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Daka grimaced at the carnage of entrails and blood. “Thy poison thimble is the finger of
Medusa.”
“The Sahara will be a permanent home to these scorpions now,” Sooth said.
“The Istari will come looking for them,” Daka said.
“They will never find them,” Sooth replied. “The sand is our ally.”
“Bandits got them?” Daka asked.
“Time is a bandit, Daka, and he comes for us all eventually. The unrighteous . . . a little
sooner!”
Daka placed his boot onto Goban’s head as he tugged, and then snatched his arrow from
the eye socket. He looked curiously at the arrowhead. Goban’s eyeball was neatly skewered like a
tortoise egg.
Daka chuckled. “A souvenir for the queen.” He tethered the treasure-laden camels to his
horse, and together, he and Sooth rode back toward the city. The desert wind wasted no time
covering the bodies with sand. These lovers, these dreamers, alas, they departed together.
