Read The Dancer from Atlantis for Free Online Page B

spoke against the idea. ‘No need. You and I have coats, Oleg has his padding, I can lend Erissa my saddle
     blanket. And the … shaman wagon … it shines, no? Why wear ourselves out scratching around for sticks?’
    ‘Water nearby will keep the air from growing too chill,’ Oleg pointed out from the experience of a sailor.
    Reid decided to save his lighter fluid for emergencies, or for what tobacco was in his pouch, though he dared not smoke until
     he had an abundance to drink.
    The sea – definitely a sea, salt as it was – would help a trifle. He’d read Alain Bombard’s report; you can keep alive awhile
     by taking continual sips. And they might try for fish with whatever tackle they could rig. In the long run, however, and not
     a terribly long run either, nothing would save them but rescue from outside.
    The glow enclosing the time vessel swirled in soft white and pastels, a hateful loveliness that barred off the water, food,
     shelter, medicine, tools, weapons within. It lit the desert wanly for some yards around. Sahir had known how to unlock it;
     but Sahir lay stiff awaiting the jackals. Reid felt sorry for him, who had been a well-intentioned man and wanted to live
     as badly as anyone, and sorry likewise for the partner whose ray-raddled flesh sprawled in the machine that had betrayed them
     all. But his pity was abstract. He’d never known them as people. He himself, and these three with him, remained to be saved
     or to die a harder death.
    Oleg yawned cavernously. ‘Woof, what a day! Are we lost intime as you believe, Duncan, or borne off by evil Lyeshy as
I
think? Either way, I’m for sleep. Maybe I’ll have such pious dreams the angels will carry me back to my little wife.’
    ‘Do you want the second or third watch, then?’ Uldin asked.
    ‘None. I sleep in my mail, helmet and ax to hand. What use, seeing an enemy from afar?’
    ‘To make ready for him, you lump, or find a hiding place if he’s too strong,’ Uldin snapped. Dirt, grease, stink, scars, and
     everything, the Hun nonetheless reminded Reid of a martinet captain he’d had. The Russian growled but yielded.
    ‘Let me take first watch,’ Reid offered. ‘I can’t sleep yet anyway.’
    ‘You think too much,’ Uldin grunted. ‘It weakens a man. As you will, though. You, next me, last Oleg.’
    ‘What of me?’ Erissa inquired.
    Uldin’s look told his opinion of putting a woman on sentry-go. He walked from the illumination and studied the heavens. ‘Not
     my sky,’ he said. ‘I can name you the northerly stars, but something’s queer about them. Well, Duncan, do you see that bright
     one low in the east? Call me when it’s this high.’ He doubtless had no idea of geometry, but his arm lifted to an accurate
     sixty-degree angle. With his awkward gait, he sought the spot where his horse was tethered, lay down, and slumbered immediately.
    Oleg knelt, removed his coif, and crossed himself before saying a prayer in his Old Russian. He had no trouble finding rest
     either.
    I envy them that, Reid thought. Intelligence – no, don’t be snobbish – the habit of verbalizing has its drawbacks.
    Weariness filled his body with stones and his head with sand. Most of Uldin’s kumiss had gone to wash down the jerky they
     had had for supper; what was left must be hoarded; Reid’s mouth felt drier than deadwood. His skin was flushed from the day’s
     exposure, yet the cold gnawed into him. A brisk walk, several times around the camp, might help.
    ‘I leave, Duncan, soon to return,’ Erissa said.
    ‘Don’t go far,’ he warned.
    ‘No. Never from you.’
    He waited till she had vanished in the night before he started on his round, so he could watch her. Not that he felt enamored
     – under these circumstances? – but what a woman she was, and what a mystery.
    The castaways had had slim chance to talk. The shock of arrival and of Sahir’s appearance and death, the stress of heat, thirst,
     and language transfer, had overtaxed