Erus are oviparous. They lay eggs twice a year. The humidity of Jin-Sahalia provides the ideal conditions for breeding. The city’s eru market is famous for the riding breeds, developed for speed, agility, and endurance.
—Extract from Know Your Steed by H. Kolm
Sylah needed to find Hassa. Somehow the Ghostings were connected to the truth. She had spent another two strikes going through the journal but had reaped no more clues.
When Sylah entered the bedroom after her bath, she stopped in her tracks.
“Maiden’s tits…”
She was desperate to find Hassa as soon as possible, but three baskets of Anoor’s belongings were piled high. Jewelry, headpieces, scarfs, pantaloons, suits, dresses, all of her prized possessions. Sylah regretted agreeing to help her with this.
Walking into the nearly empty dressing room, she found three simple outfits hanging on the rack. One was a gray suit, another a pale red dress, and the third was her training gear.
“Oh, Anoor,” Sylah said softly. She rifled through the clothing she was discarding and pulled out a pile of gold and green material that Sylah thought might be a dress. She tucked the dress into one of Anoor’s now empty drawers. “You’ve got to keep something nice for the winners’ banquet.”
She looked at the baskets and cursed. She’d have to take an eru. Sylah hated traveling by eru.
Sylah located Anoor’s eru, named Boey as the stall indicated in silver swirling letters. Anoor’s carriage was by the side, and it was as ostentatious as Sylah predicted. Made of thin steel to protect from the tidewind, the edges of the carriage swirled with gilded flowers of gold and silver. The driver’s seat, a lip on the front of the carriage, was cushioned with a velvet throw. If Sylah drove that into the Duster Quarter, she’d only be left with wheels.
“Fuck.” Sylah dumped the first basket of Anoor’s belongings by her feet. “I’m going to have to ride you across the Tongue.” The eru huffed as if she knew this journey was going to be uncomfortable for both of them. Driving a carriage was hard enough, but riding on top of the eru—that was near impossible. It was for Sylah, at least. She was never destined to be a part of the wardens’ cavalry, and growing up, she’d always been glad that erus never factored into the Aktibar. Not that it mattered now.
“Need some help?” A small girl dressed in the red pinafore Sylah had come to detest slipped under the stall.
“Would you be able to saddle this eru for me?”
“You have permission to ride Miss Elsari’s eru?”
Oh shit, Sylah had thought the girl’s tone was helpful, but it turned out she was just plain old annoying.
“Yes, yes. This is her stuff. You can check with Gorn, her chief of chambers, if you want.”
“I will.”
Sylah ground her teeth.
“Okay, go check with her. I need to bring down another two baskets anyway.”
“You’ll need the carriage?”
“No, I can’t drive that.” Sylah waved at the big piece of jewelry on wheels. “Can you just add a couple of packs to the saddle?”
The girl nodded.
After checking with Gorn and another two trips to Anoor’s chambers, Sylah was finally packed and ready to go. She jumped onto the eru—after her third try using the stirrups, mind you—and picked up the reins.
The blue eru snorted at Sylah and scuffed the floor with a clawed foot. It had been a long time since Sylah had ridden. Not since their escape from the Sanctuary. Even then, they’d had a carriage, and driving from the seat was much easier than getting used to the twisted motion of the lizard while on its back.
The Sandstorm’s eru was called Huda, and she was a sweet and gentle creature. Something about Boey made Sylah think that wasn’t the case with her. Boey was strong and lithe, like all the large lizards, but her snort seemed pulled back in a sneer, her blue eyes a little too intelligent.
Sylah wondered if Huda was still alive. They’d had to abandon the old lizard at the nearest town, just in case the army followed their trail all those years ago. Sylah didn’t want to think of that memory. Not today, not ever.
“Have you seen Hassa recently?” she asked a Ghosting who had appeared near the stable door.
No, I’m not sure who you mean,the boy signed, moving toward the back of the barn.
It was the same answer she got from many Ghostings. They either refused to answer her or pleaded ignorance. Distrust always shifted in their eyes.
“All right, Boey, we’re on an adventure. Let’s go.” She kicked and flicked the reins with her wrist, but the eru didn’t move a handspan.