[Child of the 7th Age]

Narika and the Eagle Encampment:

Since the heart of the storm lay to the north, the winds did not attack the Eagle encampment with the same ferocity that had been directed against the travelers who were venturing south and east across the desert. Yet, by mid-day, most of the maenwaith had tugged scarves and hoods over their faces to ward off the constantly blowing sand. Few ventured outside the circle of tents. Only a handful of young men ran about with ropes and staves, rounding up the horses and other beasts. They herded the animals towards a small scrub grove on the far side of the water hole where low-lying bushes and a few scraggly trees acted as a partial break against the wind.

Narika remained inside her tent, the howling of the winds matching her own bleak mood. Her mother lay sick in bed. Ayar was in pain, and her fever continued unabated, although for the moment the poison had at least stepped spreading. Perhaps, if they were lucky, the herbal poultices and other remedies would buy Ayar enough time so that her body could fight its way back to health.

Sometimes in the past, Narika was able to read the hints in the sky to predict when a sandstorm was about to occur. But this time, like the poison in Ayar's body, there had been no warning. The winds were muted enough that none of the maenwaith or herd beasts should meet with serious injury. Yet Narika still worried about the messenger she had just sent to Umbar to tell Ráma and Thorn that they should return as soon as possible. The lad was out in the open and would have to find some shelter from the storm. Hopefully, he would alight and sit out the worst of the winds. But, even if he somehow managed to reach the city, neither Ráma nor Thorn would be able to come at once because of the drifting sands.

Their absence still troubled Narika. She was used to relying on them during her most difficult times. Yet now, when she needed them the most, they were missing. Whom else could she turn to for advice and aid? Narika stirred uneasily as her mind took an unexpected turn and the hazy image of a familiar young maenwaith emerged from inside her head. She could try to speak with Thorne’s sister Yalisha yet the mere mention of that name left her feeling uncomfortable. The brother and sister were totally different. Yalisha’s reputation for gentleness and beauty was exceeded only by her known penchant for behaving unpredictably and ignoring traditional ways. A strange combination in a talented young woman! But then who could trust any maenwaith who had frequent contact with outsiders?

Still, Narika could not afford to stand on pride. Yalisha knew more about herbs and poisons than any other in the clan, even Narika herself. Thorne's sister regularly marketed desert plants to Mannish healers and other agents of the great households, sometimes traveling as far away as Umbar. In her journies, she'd learned a great deal about the medicines of the old ones, the Black Numenoreans who’d ruled these lands in ancient days. If Yalisha had gleaned any knowledge of this poison from her travels, this might provide the clue they needed to untangle the mystery and help hasten Ayar’s recovery. Narika would have preferred that Ráma speak with Yalisha, since the two women were close friends. But, with her sister gone, she had no real choice. She beckoned to the guard standing near the entrance of the tent telling him to pay Yalisha a visit and have her come back to speak with Narika as soon as the winds abated.