Chapter 73: The Watcher
Sha-Mo recognised the hawk as it circled up above. The Order often tagged their messenger birds with a lightweight collar around one ankle. It glinted in the late afternoon sun.
He called his sand-sailer to a halt, disembarking and stepping a few steps away. Then he raised his arm out and whistled, high and shrill. It only took two repetitions to get the bird's attention.
The hawk dove down, alighting on his offered arm. Yes, Sha-Mo thought, definitely an Order bird. The ankle tag bore the mark of the Lotus.
He stroked the bird's plumage, cooing softly. He gently removed the missive from the tube and whispered to the hawk, "Good girl, away now. Rest."
He raised his arm a little, prompting the hawk to spread its wings and take flight once again.
He broke the seal on the message and unrolled it.
The letter was encoded and he frowned a little as he deciphered it. He rarely received communication from the Order of the White Lotus. He had his Duty, he kept Watch on the Great Library, and there was little that needed to be said.
He read,
Watcher,
The Avatar has entered the Desert. I believe he seeks the Library. The Grand Lotus has asked that we not interfere with his Journey beyond the gentlest of nudges. If you could ensure his way out of the Si Wong, it would be to the benefit of the Order, and the world.
Fung of the Si Wong.
Sha-Mo frowned at the man's signature. He'd had some contact with Fung; the man had recruited him nearly five years ago, but there had been little need for communication once his training in the cryptic arts was complete. The man often claimed to be 'of the Si Wong' and while he had lived on its fringe for some seventy years, the man was not of it. Not like Sha-Mo and his people were.
He was of the Hami Tribe and they lived and breathed the Si Wong. It was in their blood, their skin. Every tradition was borne out of the necessity of desert life. No outsider could ever claim the same.
He shook the thought away. It was irrelevant.
His mind went to the message's contents. The Avatar…
He had heard of the Bridge's return to the physical world; that was in the last letter he received from Fung, so many months ago. He'd never expected to be involved in the Avatar's Journey.
He frowned. Sha-Mo was a man of loyalties; he was loyal to his family, to his Tribe, and to the Order. As Watcher, he did just that.
In years past, the Watcher of the Library would protect pilgrims who sought it out, escorting them there and back through the perilous dunes. However since the Great Knowledge Spirit's distrust of humanity emerged, that task had changed. Now he kept them away, to save them from Wan Shi Tong's wrath.
He sighed. He looked to his people, where they stood by the sailer, watching him with barely concealed curiosity. They knew he had a Duty, they knew of the Library, but they did not know of his allegiance to the Order.
In the Language of the Desert he called out, "We must head to the Library!"
Even through their robes and goggles he could see the confusion. He gestured them to go as he climbed back on board his own sand-sailer.
Time to find the Avatar. He only wished his son were here to witness such history in the making.
Sha-Mo knew the Si Wong like he did the face of his son. It was as familiar to him as family. He could navigate it with his eyes closed. And yet…
The Great Library was gone.
He found himself consulting the sky, the dunes; checking to be sure he was in the right place.
The Library had sunk a lot even during his own tenure as Watcher, mostly due to the Spirit's dislike of humans. Only the central tower remained.
Or it had the last time he checked. Now it was gone.
He felt… lost. His purpose, his Duty, was gone. How could he be the Watcher if there was nothing to Watch?
He bowed his head, thinking. Colour caught his eye.
Colour did not have much place in the desert, not unless it was a shade of brown, beige, or orange.
The colour that caught his eye was red.
Blood stained the sand, near to where the Library once stood.
He approached it and knelt. It was… a lot of blood. Either a single person had been bled a lethal amount, or many people had been bleeding.
His frown deepened when he tracked the blood to a set of familiar tracks. They'd been left by a sand-sailer, one that had been weighed down by something heavy.
He climbed back onto his own sailer. "Follow those tracks; quickly, before the desert takes them!"
The Sandbender could not believe his eyes. While they'd lost the tracks to the desert winds, they'd found something else. Something… unbelievable.
A sand shark, dead. Killed in a savage fashion.
He'd known men and women who had tried to hunt sand sharks; they were often very young and discounted the warnings of their elders. His own son possessed the propensity for such foolishness; he tried his best to rein in the boy's recklessness, but was sometimes unsuccessful.
Hunting a sand shark never ended well. They were the greatest hunters the SI Wong had produced. They made prey out of any Sandbender foolish enough to pursue them.
And yet, someone had killed a sand shark. Brutally.
He knelt beside the body, tracing his fingers along the cuts and stab wounds. The beast had been dead for a few hours, maybe a little longer.
His second-in-command asked, "Chief, should we salvage the body?"
Sha-Mo stood. He nodded. "Take what will be useful. Leave the rest for the desert. That's the way."
His second nodded back. He repeated, "That's the way."
His brothers and sisters descended on the carcass; they stripped away the toughened flesh, taking large sections that were undamaged to tan and treat. They took some of the meat, the prime cuts. The sand shark's teeth were removed and placed in a cloth sack. What was left was placed in a pile.
Sha-Mo said the traditional prayer over the offering. "For Si Wong."
His brothers and sisters repeated, "For Si Wong."
They loaded everything onto the sailers and prepared to set off once more.
Sha-Mo's second asked, "Where?"
Sha-Mo thought about it. He decided. "The Rock."
His second nodded. They set off.
