The caravan was making decent time in their travel across the desert roads that stretched between Nashaki and the Crescent Sea Docks. Wagons, and horses, and carts, and beasts of burdens - all traveled in a long procession line of eager travelers who’d spent their trials resting in the main city and now returned out to wherever it was they would go after the docks. Of course, the sun would rise soon and the caravan leaders had went off the road to a dip between dunes where some large flat rocks provided shade. There was even a deeply dug well for water. Here, the caravan would rest during the brutal sunlight hours and as soon as night fell, they would begin again.
Ezili had walked on foot, despite the small dangers that lurked in the sands with tiny but angry snakes and bugs that didn’t appreciate those who disturbed them. All around, the droning hum of cicadas punctuated with the trill of crickets made a constant backdrop to the various noises of the caravan. Wheels creaked, and people muttered in lowly spoken conversations. An occasional boisterous laugh, or the whiney of a horse, or the shout of someone insulted broke through at times but then faded. Once the camp was set though, many of the travelers gathered around in a circle to practice and play various instruments. A couple minstrels were among them, eager to pluck at strings or blow into reeds in melodic tunes that especially entertained those children of the caravan.
They had an open cart, but no wagon, carried by a couple horses. The slaves had taken turns with sitting in the cart (which could fit up to four of them) or even laying down in the space between with a couple of woven blankets. There was, as Ezili had made sure when Saza had gone to acquire such supplies, a blanket for every individual in their group. All eight slaves, Saza Moshe, and herself; they kept close together but of them, Ezili didn’t once make use of the cart herself. As it was, she also didn’t make use of her blanket when instead, she had noticed a mother with a few too many children to wrangle to lay down on a mat too small for them all – and she’d offered her blanket instead with little ceremony about it.
They took a small spot under a flat rock for the shade it would provide and used the cart to keep their supplies covered. Ezili had settled to sit on a stone ridge that jutted out from the shadowy sands, her legs drawn under her thighs and crossed at the ankles. She stared ahead with an almost weary gaze, but it wasn’t exhaustion she felt but rather a relaxed alertness while she observed the caravan settle at the camp. After a spot of quiet, she gestured in a small wave for Saza to join her.
Leyliqe approached, however, with the young man who’d once been Palm but his actual name was Solihin. The two of them looked uncertain, but Leyliqe spoke with a steady voice, “Mistress, might we join the drum circle and dance?”
Ezili glanced across the camp to where the minstrels had gotten enough harmony to create music for others to dance to. She considered for a moment then said, “Yes, if it doesn’t tire you out for tomorrow’s walk. And don’t stray any farther than those rocks.”
Of course, she doubted Leyliqe had listened to anything past Yes… for how the slave girl’s eyes lit up. She watched while the girl grabbed onto Solihin’s hand and they ran off to join the minstrels. A few of the other slaves glanced over, including the two acrobats who had yet to speak in the slightest. Ezili looked back at them, then she nodded. They ran off to join as well.
Ezili patted the stone ridge, almost like a bench for how it could be used, in gesture for Saza to sit and she said, “Let me see your journal, Saza.”
She waited until she had it in hand, and flipped through the pages, with her blue eyes focused on the writing when she said in a quiet voice, “What questions do you have of me? You wish to be made aware, yes? Then tell me what sort of things you would like to be informed of… for there is much I could disclose to you, but all might not matter to you. Not in the way that you meant it.”
Ezili had walked on foot, despite the small dangers that lurked in the sands with tiny but angry snakes and bugs that didn’t appreciate those who disturbed them. All around, the droning hum of cicadas punctuated with the trill of crickets made a constant backdrop to the various noises of the caravan. Wheels creaked, and people muttered in lowly spoken conversations. An occasional boisterous laugh, or the whiney of a horse, or the shout of someone insulted broke through at times but then faded. Once the camp was set though, many of the travelers gathered around in a circle to practice and play various instruments. A couple minstrels were among them, eager to pluck at strings or blow into reeds in melodic tunes that especially entertained those children of the caravan.
They had an open cart, but no wagon, carried by a couple horses. The slaves had taken turns with sitting in the cart (which could fit up to four of them) or even laying down in the space between with a couple of woven blankets. There was, as Ezili had made sure when Saza had gone to acquire such supplies, a blanket for every individual in their group. All eight slaves, Saza Moshe, and herself; they kept close together but of them, Ezili didn’t once make use of the cart herself. As it was, she also didn’t make use of her blanket when instead, she had noticed a mother with a few too many children to wrangle to lay down on a mat too small for them all – and she’d offered her blanket instead with little ceremony about it.
They took a small spot under a flat rock for the shade it would provide and used the cart to keep their supplies covered. Ezili had settled to sit on a stone ridge that jutted out from the shadowy sands, her legs drawn under her thighs and crossed at the ankles. She stared ahead with an almost weary gaze, but it wasn’t exhaustion she felt but rather a relaxed alertness while she observed the caravan settle at the camp. After a spot of quiet, she gestured in a small wave for Saza to join her.
Leyliqe approached, however, with the young man who’d once been Palm but his actual name was Solihin. The two of them looked uncertain, but Leyliqe spoke with a steady voice, “Mistress, might we join the drum circle and dance?”
Ezili glanced across the camp to where the minstrels had gotten enough harmony to create music for others to dance to. She considered for a moment then said, “Yes, if it doesn’t tire you out for tomorrow’s walk. And don’t stray any farther than those rocks.”
Of course, she doubted Leyliqe had listened to anything past Yes… for how the slave girl’s eyes lit up. She watched while the girl grabbed onto Solihin’s hand and they ran off to join the minstrels. A few of the other slaves glanced over, including the two acrobats who had yet to speak in the slightest. Ezili looked back at them, then she nodded. They ran off to join as well.
Ezili patted the stone ridge, almost like a bench for how it could be used, in gesture for Saza to sit and she said, “Let me see your journal, Saza.”
She waited until she had it in hand, and flipped through the pages, with her blue eyes focused on the writing when she said in a quiet voice, “What questions do you have of me? You wish to be made aware, yes? Then tell me what sort of things you would like to be informed of… for there is much I could disclose to you, but all might not matter to you. Not in the way that you meant it.”
