The Lost Desert Files

     Tomos arrived late.

     This was also not unusual.

     He came running through the palace hall with one sandal half-loose, a piece of flatbread in one paw, and a look on his face that said he had missed something important and knew it.

     "I came as fast as I could," said Tomos.

     The Zafara looked at the bread.

     "You stopped for food."

     "I came fast after I got food."

     Nabile pointed at him.

     "See? He understands breakfast."

     The Zafara looked at Jazan.

     "I like him more now."

     Jazan looked at all three of them.

     "I called you here because someone used Razul's old spy signs to steal records from my archives."

     Tomos stopped chewing.

     "Oh."

     "Yes," said Jazan.

     "That is worse than I thought."

     "What did you think this was?"

     Tomos looked at the bread.

     "Honestly? I thought maybe the statue came back."

     "We are not talking about the statue," said Jazan.

     "I still don't know about the statue," said Nabile.

     "Lucky you," said the Zafara.

     Jazan placed the note from the safehouse on the table.

     Tomos leaned over it.

     He read it once.

     Then he read it again.

     Then he pointed at one line.

     "The place where Sakhmet first lied."

     "Yes," said Jazan.

     Tomos frowned.

     "That sounds rude."

     "That is not the main problem," said the Zafara.

     "It feels like one of the problems."

     Nabile nodded.

     "It does sound very rude."

     Jazan rubbed his eyes.

     "I am surrounded."

     The Zafara tapped the note.

     "It is a clue. Old spy messages liked sounding clever."

     "Did you write messages like this?" asked Tomos.

     "No."

     Nabile looked at her.

     The Zafara sighed.

     "Fine. Maybe once."

     "What did it say?" asked Tomos.

     "No."

     "Was it dramatic?"

     "No."

     Nabile smiled.

     "It was dramatic."

     The Zafara folded her arms.

     "It worked."

     Jazan cleared his throat.

     "The place where Sakhmet first lied. What does that mean?"

     Tomos scratched his head.

     "Could be an old court record."

     "No," said the Zafara.

     "Could be a temple."

     "Maybe."

     "Could be the market."

     Nabile blinked.

     "The market?"

     "People lie there all the time."

     The Zafara looked at him.

     Tomos shrugged.

     "You asked."

     Jazan sat down.

     "Can we please pretend this is serious?"

     "It is serious," said the Zafara. "Unfortunately."

     She looked at the note again.

     "The wording is old. Or trying to sound old. Sakhmet first lied. Not Jazan. Not Amira. Not the palace. Sakhmet."

     Nabile leaned on the table.

     "So the city."

     "Or something from before the city was the city."

     Tomos snapped his fingers.

     "The old border stones."

     Everyone looked at him.

     He looked surprised to be useful.

     "What?" he said.

     "Explain," said Jazan.

     Tomos straightened a little.

     "There are old stones outside Sakhmet. Very old. Older than some roads. Some people say they mark where the first city line was."

     Nabile frowned.

     "I have heard of those."

     "They are mostly buried now," said Tomos. "There is one near the old caravan road. Kids used to dare each other to touch it at night."

     The Zafara looked at him.

     "Did you touch it?"

     "No."

     Nabile stared.

     Tomos looked away.

     "Maybe."

     Jazan sighed.

     "Of course you did."

     "It was not glowing then," said Tomos.

     The room went quiet.

     The Zafara slowly turned her head.

     "Then?"

     Tomos swallowed.

     "I mean, it glowed once."

     "Once."

     "Maybe twice."

     Nabile covered her face with one paw.

     "Tomos."

     "I was young!"

     "You are still young," said the Zafara.

     "I was younger."

     Jazan stood.

     "Take them there."

     Tomos pointed at himself.

     "Me?"

     "You know the way."

     "Mostly."

     The Zafara groaned.

     "Why does everyone know things mostly?"

     They left Sakhmet before noon.

     Jazan did not come with them.

     This was good because three people were already enough people.

     Also, if King Jazan went walking through the desert to look at a strange old stone, everyone would notice.

     Nabile came.

     Tomos came.

     The Zafara came because, sadly, it was her problem.

     They followed the old caravan road until the city looked smaller behind them.

     The sand was bright.

     The sun was bright.

     Everything was bright.

     The Zafara pulled her scarf higher over her face.

     "I hate desert clues."

     "You live in the Lost Desert," said Nabile.

     "That does not mean I like every part of it."

     Tomos walked ahead of them.

     "I think it is this way."

     "You think?" asked the Zafara.

     "Yes."

     "That word is not making me happy."

     "It is better than guess."

     "No, it is not."

     Nabile looked around.

     "There are rocks over there."

     "Those are not the rocks."

     "There are more rocks over there."

     "Also not the rocks."

     The Zafara stopped.

     "Tomos."

     He turned.

     "What?"

     "Are we lost?"

     "No."

     He paused.

     "Not very."

     Nabile stared at him.

     "How lost is not very lost?"

     "Less than fully lost."

     The Zafara looked up at the sky.

     "Wonderful."

     They walked for another few minutes.

     Then Tomos pointed.

     "There."

     At first it looked like a broken tooth sticking out of the sand.

     It was a stone, half-buried and worn smooth by time. Strange marks ran along one side. Most were too faded to read.

     The Zafara walked closer.

     The stone did not glow.

     That was a relief.

     Then Tomos said, "It glowed blue before."

     The Zafara stopped.

     "Why would you wait until now to say blue?"

     "I thought the glowing part was the important part."

     "The color is also important."

     "Oh."

     Nabile looked at the stone.

     "It is not glowing now."

     "Good," said the Zafara.

     She knelt and brushed sand away from the base.

     There were marks.

     Old marks.

     And newer marks.

     The newer ones were small scratches.

     A line.

     A dot.

     A line.

     The Zafara stared at them.

     Nabile noticed.

     "More spy signs?"

     "Yes."

     Tomos leaned in.

     "What does it say?"

     "Do not lean on the possibly magic stone."

     Tomos leaned back quickly.

     The Zafara brushed more sand away.

     The marks led around the stone, toward the buried side.

     She dug with her paw for a moment.

     Then she stopped.

     Nabile crouched beside her.

     "What?"

     "There is something under it."

     "Under the stone?"

     "Yes."

     Tomos looked nervous.

     "Are we allowed to dig up old stones?"

     "No," said Nabile.

     The Zafara kept digging.

     Tomos looked at Nabile.

     "She is still doing it."

     "I noticed."

     Under the sand was a small metal plate.

     It was old, but not as old as the stone.

     The Zafara pulled it free.

     On it was a scarab mark.

     The same scarab from the wax seal.

     Nabile sighed.

     "I am starting to dislike scarabs too."

     "Good," said the Zafara. "You are learning many things today."

     The metal plate had words carved into it.

     Tomos wiped some sand off with his sleeve.

     "Can you read it?"

     The Zafara looked.

     Then she looked again.

     "I can read some of it."

     "Some is better than none," said Tomos.

     "Not always."

     Nabile leaned closer.

     "What does it say?"

     The Zafara read slowly.

     "First gate. False oath. Beneath the old sun."

     Tomos blinked.

     "That is not better than none."

     "No," said the Zafara. "It is not."

     Nabile looked toward Sakhmet.

     "First gate could mean an old city gate."

     "False oath sounds like the lie part," said Tomos.

     The Zafara looked at the stone again.

     "And beneath the old sun..."

     She stood.

     "Oh no."

     Nabile looked at her.

     "We are back to oh no?"

     "Yes."

     "Is it a big oh no?"

     "Medium."

     Tomos looked relieved.

     "Medium is not too bad."

     The Zafara put the metal plate in her bag.

     "Medium can become large."

     Tomos looked less relieved.

     The old sun was not hard to find.

     It was a symbol.

     A very old symbol of Sakhmet. A round sun with long sharp rays. It used to be carved above old public buildings, before newer banners and newer rulers and newer problems covered everything.

     Tomos knew one place where the old sun was still visible.

     The old guardhouse near the east side of the city.

     It had not been used for years.

     Which, of course, meant it looked terrible.

     Nabile stopped outside it.

     "Why is every place in this mystery falling apart?"

     "Budget cuts?" said Tomos.

     The Zafara looked at the old building.

     The sun symbol sat above the doorway.

     Most of it was cracked.

     One ray was missing.

     The whole thing looked like it wanted to fall on someone.

     "Nobody touch the door yet," said the Zafara.

     Tomos froze with his paw almost on the door.

     "I was not going to."

     "Yes, you were."

     "Only a little."

     Nabile moved closer to the wall.

     "There are marks here too."

     The Zafara looked.

     Black thread had been tied around a loose brick.

     She groaned.

     "Again?"

     Nabile pointed at it.

     "What does this one mean?"

     "It means someone is enjoying this too much."

     "That is not the real meaning."

     "It is my meaning."

     She untied the thread.

     Behind the brick was a gap.

     Inside the gap was a key.

     Tomos smiled.

     "Oh good. A key."

     The Zafara stared at it.

     "No."

     "No?"

     "Keys in walls are almost never good."

     "That seems unfair to keys."

     Nabile took the key before Tomos could.

     The Zafara checked the door.

     Then the hinges.

     Then the floor.

     Then the top of the doorway.

     Tomos waited.

     Then waited more.

     "Are we going in?"

     "Yes."

     "When?"

     "When I am sure it will not drop a net on us."

     Tomos looked up.

     "There is a net?"

     "No."

     "Then why did you say net?"

     "Because now you looked up."

     Nabile laughed.

     The Zafara opened the door.

     Nothing happened.

     Tomos smiled.

     "See? No trap."

     A small dart shot from the wall and stuck into the doorframe beside his ear.

     Tomos stopped smiling.

     The Zafara looked at him.

     "One trap."

     "That was very close."

     "Yes."

     "I did not enjoy it."

     "Good."

     Inside, the old guardhouse was dark and dusty.

     A broken desk sat in the middle of the room.

     A few old shelves leaned against the wall.

     There was an old map of Sakhmet, so faded that half the streets were gone.

     Nabile lifted one corner.

     "This map is ancient."

     Tomos leaned in.

     "Does it show the first gate?"

     The Zafara looked at the map.

     Then she looked at the building.

     Then she looked at the floor.

     "Move the desk."

     Tomos brightened.

     "I can do that."

     He pushed the desk.

     It did not move.

     He pushed harder.

     It still did not move.

     Nabile helped.

     The desk moved one inch.

     The Zafara watched.

     Tomos looked at her.

     "Are you helping?"

     "I am supervising."

     "That is not helping."

     "It is helping me."

     Finally, all three of them pushed.

     The desk scraped across the floor with a terrible sound.

     Under it was a trapdoor.

     Tomos pointed.

     "Found it."

     "Yes," said the Zafara.

     "We found it."

     "After moving the desk."

     "Still found it."

     Nabile brushed dust from the trapdoor.

     There was another scarab mark on it.

     Of course there was.

     The Zafara unlocked it with the key.

     The trapdoor opened with a low creak.

     Stairs led down into the dark.

     Tomos looked down.

     "That looks safe."

     "No, it does not," said Nabile.

     "I was trying to be brave."

     "Try quieter," said the Zafara.

     They went down.

     The room below was small.

     It had stone walls.

     It smelled like dust and old paper.

     That was never a good smell.

     There were shelves built into the wall, and most of them were empty.

     Not all.

     A single scroll case sat on the lowest shelf.

     Red.

     Dark red.

     The Zafara picked it up.

     "This is the one from the palace."

     Nabile looked around.

     "So the records were brought here."

     "Some of them," said the Zafara.

     Tomos frowned.

     "Where are the rest?"

     A voice answered from the stairs.

     "Not here."

     All three of them turned.

     A figure stood at the top of the steps.

     Their face was covered.

     Their cloak was desert brown.

     Their boots were palace guard boots.

     Tomos pointed.

     "Those are the boots!"

     The figure looked at him.

     Tomos lowered his paw.

     "Sorry."

     The Zafara stepped in front of the shelf.

     "You left the signs."

     The figure nodded.

     "Yes."

     "Why?"

     "Because you would know them."

     "That is not an answer."

     "It is the only answer you need."

     Nabile moved one paw toward her belt.

     The figure noticed.

     "Do not."

     Nabile stopped.

     The Zafara held up the red scroll case.

     "What do you want?"

     The figure tilted their head.

     "You still ask the wrong question."

     "I ask many questions."

     "Then ask better ones."

     Tomos whispered, "That is rude."

     The figure looked at him again.

     Tomos went quiet again.

     The Zafara took one step forward.

     "Who are you?"

     The figure reached up.

     For a moment, the Zafara thought they would remove the scarf.

     Instead, they dropped another piece of black thread onto the top step.

     Then they ran.

     "Oh come on!" shouted Nabile.

     The Zafara ran up the stairs after them.

     Tomos and Nabile followed.

     By the time they reached the street, the figure was already gone.

     Of course.

     The Zafara looked left.

     Then right.

     Nothing.

     Only a few confused merchants and one old Kau eating figs.

     Nabile came out behind her.

     "Did you see where they went?"

     "No."

     Tomos climbed out last, breathing hard.

     "I saw something."

     The Zafara turned.

     "What?"

     "They had a ring."

     Nabile frowned.

     "What kind of ring?"

     Tomos held up his paw.

     "Silver. Black stone."

     The Zafara went very still.

     Nabile looked at her.

     "What?"

     The Zafara picked up the black thread from the step.

     Then she looked at the red scroll case in her other paw.

     "That ring belonged to Razul's inner spies."

     Tomos swallowed.

     "I thought you were one of those."

     The Zafara looked at him.

     "I was."

     Nabile looked down the empty street.

     "So who was that?"

     The Zafara did not answer right away.

     Then she said the only thing she could say.

     "Someone who should not still be here."

     To be continued...