Darkin: A Journey East by Joseph A. Turkot

surprised that you can read, Adacon, for I was the only other on the farm able to do so. How was it you learned?”
    “I’m not sure—odd as it may sound—I suppose I was taught somehow, by someone, in my earliest years. As far back as I can remember I could already read fairly well, though I learned more over time as I found ways of getting books on the farm.”
    “Ah! You too learned to steal from the wagons! I thought I was the only one who knew it possible. Their dumbfounded faces must have looked funny upon seeing the empty wagons.” Erguile laughed.
    “Well I never spoiled an entire wagon, but I surely confiscated my share to read.”
    “Ah, I see. Well I guess you missed out on the fine tobacco that sometimes rolled through.”
    “Both of you seem rather learned for slaves, more so than I thought a slave ever could be,” said Krem with a touch of bitter-sweet in his voice.
    “Hah, and smart enough you are for a dwarf of a man, without the girth mind you, and at the ripe old age of who knows how many centuries past!” Erguile joked and they all laughed.
     
    The three roamed deeper over the dunes of the unchanging desert, stopping only briefly here and there for a drink of water. The sun began to fall in the western sky, and the scorching heat began to subside at last. Adacon wondered about the thief as they walked in silence, and his mind played the night over and over again in his memory. The unforeseen circumstance Krem had spoken of, it had to be his own mentioning of the creature—what else could have made Krem change their plans? After all, Krem said that the news came to him late at night, and that was enough for Adacon, though Erguile must have thought old Krem referred to an insight of magic. Either way, Adacon felt a slight fear, mainly because he knew not what he was afraid of. But if Krem had reason to keep off the dunes after nightfall, Adacon believed that it had to be something terribly evil. There would be a time to question Krem; it was not now, and it would have to be in private.
    “Do you suppose we’ll actually reach the place anytime soon? I am growing tired, this wretched sand makes for hard footwork,” grunted Erguile, fatigue in his voice.
    “The Solun can be very cruel when it wants to be. I fear we may not make it all the way to the tower tonight, but we must reach the Vashnod Plains at least,” Krem said.
    “Have your estimates been misguided, poor Vapour?” mocked Erguile.
    “No, but it is both of you whom I’ve misjudged, for our speed is lessened on your account,” responded Krem.
    “Pah! My account? Surely I am stouter of leg than an old dwarf such as you…” Erguile said.
    “He’s aided by unseen things Erguile, you must remember that,” Adacon spoke up.
    “It is not your fault anyhow—the Solun breaks the strongest of men under its glare,” Krem reassured him.
    “But will we be safe in the Vashnod for the night?” asked Adacon. “You spoke warily of staying out past sundown in the desert, so what of the plains?”
    “My dear Adacon, to believe you are safe anywhere upon Darkin in the age of Grelion is folly, but I don’t think we’ll find trouble on the plains this night. It is mostly nomads roaming there, a desolate place really, and not many of Grelion’s men patrol it,” said Krem.
    “Nomads? What sort of nomads?” questioned Erguile.
    “The sort that take matters into their own hands, but if we are to leave them be I don’t think we’ll have trouble,” spoke Krem.
    “Good enough. I look forward to getting another taste of the food you’ve brought for us, and a fresh pipe,” said Erguile.
    “Come, let us hasten lads. I expect you two to be able to at least keep up with an old Vapour!” goaded Krem, and with that he broke away in front of them, increasing his speed to a mild run. Adacon and Erguile were quick to compensate for the difference in speed, and they caught up.
    “I wish for a steed in this hour, and for the rest of our