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her.”
    I lowered the brush but didn’t turn to face him. “No one can replace her,” I said. “Why would you ever begrudge me something as simple as a friend?”
    “I’m your friend, Lukien,” said Malator. “The only friend you need. Cricket can’t help you find peace. Neither can Gilwyn or anyone else. Only I can do that, but you need to listen to me. Learn from me. You have a destiny.”
    “Which you won’t tell me about, right?” I threw the brush to the ground. “It’s always riddles with the Akari! If it’s my destiny then it’s
mine
. Who are you to keep it from me?”
    “I’m not a fortune teller,” said Malator. “I can only be a guide.”
    “Right,” I sneered. “What was that thing you drew? And why’s it important for me to go to Akyre all of a sudden? That was my idea, Malator. You had nothing to do with it.”
    “I see things, Lukien. I don’t always know what they mean.” Malator folded his arms over his chest with an imperious, irritating expression. “But a host needs to trust his Akari.”
    “Give me a reason to trust you,” I pleaded. “Tell me what this great destiny is you’ve got planned, and I won’t take Cricket to Akyre. Just once tell me the truth without wrapping it in riddles.”
    Malator refused to budge. “The future cannot be revealed. You know that.”
    “Then I’m going. I’m going, and I’m taking Cricket with me, and to hell with my destiny!” I pulled the sword halfway from its sheath. “You can keep me alive, Malator, but that’s all I want from you. From now on you serve me—not the other way around.”
    “I’m an Akari, not a slave,” he bristled. “Let me be a friend to you. Trust me—and leave the girl here.”
    “Why? Is she in danger? Because I can protect her, Malator. You of all people should know that.”
    “You’re not immortal, Lukien. How many times must I tell you?”
    “I know what I can do.”
    “Leave the girl here.”
    “No deal.” I determined to meet his stubbornness with my own. “Cricket comes with me. You’ll just have to live with your jealousy, Malator.”
    “I could leave you,” he warned.
    “No, you can’t, because I have the sword, and you’re bound to it. You leave when I decide it’s time for you to go. That may be in a day or two or a decade or two, but it’ll always be my choosing.”
    His impish smile returned. “Your path could be wondrous, Lukien. If you let me help you.”
    “Then let it be my path, Malator. That’s all I want from you.”
    He said nothing more, simply disappearing, leaving me alone in the moonlight. I sheathed my sword and felt his quiet energy within it. He had frightened me. As accustomed as I was to talking with a ghost, I was rattled. If he had something wondrous in store, why couldn’t he tell me? Why did the Akari always couch their words in puzzles?
    Curious, I went back to the spot where he’d drawn in the sand. Most of the picture was gone, except for a bit of the creature’s head. It was inanimate now, no better than something a child might draw. But I swear I saw nothing wondrous in it, and the word that gripped me wasn’t destiny.
    It was death.

5
    T he worst part about crossing a desert isn’t the heat. It’s not the way the flies eat your skin or the fear of running out of water, either. The problem is how small it makes you feel. Anyone who’s done it knows what I mean. Once you’ve traveled for just a few hours, you look back and see nothing. And when you look ahead you see nothing, and you keep looking and looking and there’s nothing. There’s just sand and dunes and the horizon. There’s a fever that sets in when all you see is desert. If a man isn’t careful, it can madden him.
    I had made the crossing more than once, and wasn’t afraid for myself. I knew how to guard against the desert’s bewitchments. We had our mounts and our mules loaded with everything we’d need, and I had my map. Still, I worried about Cricket. All that first day