Chapter Two

By the time the sun was setting across the horizon, we still had no idea found to work. Some had had ideas, outrageous ones at that. We tried them anyway. Did they work? No.

When the sun had finally set, and darkness fell upon the wasteland (which made it even harder to see, what with the winds blowing as they were), it was obvious that this would be our campsite for the night. Still, I announced it and posted sentries. And then I sat. And waited.

I waited about three hours, and then five extra minutes, just to make sure. I needed everyone to be asleep. When my time of waiting had passed, I stood and slithered silently around the rows of tents, graceful as a cat, tiptoeing, making no sound in the swirling sands.

I traveled the half-mile to the River of Sand, or ROS, as it had come to be called. I stared at the sands, feeling the strange, manic, suicidal urge within me to jump in and be drowned. Drowned in sand.

Luckily, I’m not that stupid.

I watched the sands run by, at an alarming rate, just like a river, and my thoughts traveled back to my childhood. Times long forgotten. Me, as a six-year old . . . was that really me? Me, who for once, didn’t care about power or money, that time when I had been so young? My goals of treasure and power had accumulated quickly. Six, seven, yes, seven at the latest, had to be the age before I had started working to accomplish my goals. The age before I had become obsessed with riches, money.

That was the way I would still liked to have been. But it was too late for that. What choice did I have? I had no family, no friends, no one. I had done the only thing I could.

Hadn’t I?

I jerked out of my thoughts, suddenly remembering why I had come to the river. Not to relive my childhood. To find a way across.

I was sure that if I looked at this obstacle by myself, from every angle---literally---I could solve the problem.

I began to walk to the left, along the length of the river. We knew nothing of who lived in this desert wasteland; maybe, if someone was crazy enough to live here, he/she could help us find a way across.

I hadn’t been searching long when I came across a flying carpet. It was fairly unusual, I must admit, to see a flying carpet, but it was what was riding on it that caught my eye. A small bundle of . . . cloth. Clothing. Blankets. But peeking from beneath the many layers, I saw two golden slits. Eyes.

It was a man. A man on a flying carpet, smothered by endless layers of blankets.

I stepped forward, holding out my hands to show I meant no harm, though I made sure I could feel my knife blade stuck through my belt slapping reassuringly against my thigh. The man made no move, but gestured toward a sign. “While journeying through the desert, please visit our shop.”

Ah, a shop. A shop for what? Who was crazy enough to hold a shop out here?

But that thought only stayed in my mind for a moment. My eyes were riveted on the flying carpet. A certain flying carpet which could take certain people across a certain river.

“Hello there, friend,” I spoke carefully. “What is it that you sell here?”

“Do you really want to know? Well, you have to by to find out,” came the hoarsely whispered answer. His voice was like someone walking across a field of dry leaves.

Keeping a friendly look on my face, I took another step towards the carpet. “Well, I would really like to know what it is that you are selling. How much?”

“Three hundred rupees.”

Three hundred rupees? Three hundred freaking rupees for . . . what? My nice attitude was gone. This guy took me for a fool. That didn’t exactly make me happy. Time to cut to the chase.

“Listen, I have a bargain I would like to make with you,” I said, my voice now much colder. “If I pay for some of your product, in return, I would ask for you to ferry my expedition across the River of Sand.”

He tilted his head to the side---or at least, I think it was his head. His being buried in blankets didn’t help to make out any features about him. His eyes grew thoughtful. But then he shook his head. “Nope. You would have to pay me more than three hundred rupees. For my services, I would require three times that number.”

Three times that number?! Gee, did he think rupees grew on trees? Or in the sand, for that matter? I just didn’t have that kind of money.

This greedy fool was really ticking me off.

“No deal,” I scowled. “Lower the price.”

“Nine hundred. That’s the best offer you’ll get.”

I breathed deeply, trying to rid myself of the adrenaline rush of anger. I did not want to kill this man. I did not want to kill this man.

“Forget it.” I was about to stomp off, when a thought occurred to me. Since I didn’t have any other plans, this was my last hope. “I’ll take an order of your . . . whatever they are.”

“Yes, mistress.” He rummaged about it the trunk behind him, and took out a small bundle. “Money first.” He gestured toward a basket next to him.

I walked forward and dropped a few hundred rupees in the basket. He shook his head. “You gave me only two hundred. Give me the extra hundred right now, or I do no business with your kind forever.”

How did he know? Not feeling ashamed at all, I shrugged and dropped in another hundred.

“Good. Here you go. Please come again!”

I grabbed the bundle and dashed a ways away. Then, I unwrapped it to see what I had bought.

Bombchu!

Bombchu?! He sold me fifty bombchu? For three hundred rupees?

That did not make me happy. What a rip-off!

Shrugging angrily, I stomped quietly back to my tent, or would have, except that stomping caused you to sink through the sand. So, I tiptoed angrily back to my tent. Tossing my bombchu inside my arrow quiver for now, I lay down on my blanket, but sleep would not come.

Into the early hours of the morning I lay there, cursing the carpet merchant, cursing the bombchu, cursing whoever put me on this whole expedition, cursing Ganondorf himself, for having come along. How was I supposed to deal with this? The stress ate away at me, unless I blamed someone. So I lay there, blaming everyone I could think of.

It was dawn when I finally drifted off to sleep. But two hours later, I awoke, completely refreshed, practically bouncing with excitement. It was risky, but it just might work!

I stumbled out of my tent, then forced myself to calm down. I had to look like this was no big deal. No big deal. Except that my career, and possibly life, was saved!

I hurried across the sand and down to where breakfast was being set out. There was no way we could make a fire; the wind would blow it out immediately, and we might attract unwanted enemies.

I called up two of my most trusted underlings and walked them a few feet away from the group. “Listen, both of you. I have chosen you since you have been loyal to me, and have always worked hard and properly. I cannot trust just anyone with this mission.” I smiled grimly at them. “Now, I want you to walk to the riverbank. Then turn and walk left a few hundred feet. You will see a carpet merchant. Buy one order of his product. Here are three hundred rupees. Do as I ask. Go!”

The two soldiers knew better than to question me. They immediately turned and left.

I noticed Ganondorf, apart from the group but near the breakfast dishes. When I turned and walked in that direction, he stood from the box he’d been sitting on and spoke to me. “Good morning, Nabooru,” he said. “Is there any way to get across the river today?” I almost detected a sneer, but like I said before, the man was a rock. You heard what he wanted you to hear and saw what he wanted you to see.

“Actually, I believe we have located a way to cross the river,” I announced, keeping my pride out of my voice.

“Have you, really?” He didn’t sound surprised at all. Which kind of disappointed me, actually.

“Yes. Two of my soldiers will soon return with what we require to cross the river. We will be across and well on our way by noon.”

One might think that, this wasteland being the desert-type, and extremely hot, you would want to travel during the night when it was cooler, and sleep during the day to escape the heat. Well, there was a slight problem there. The winds made it hard enough to three feet ahead of you during the day. During the night they were nearly impossible. We had no choice but to march during the day.

Ganondorf nodded, and turned away, towards the rising sun. “Once again the sun rises,” he commented. “But who will live to see it set? That is the question we must answer.”

He turned back toward me and noticed my odd look. “It is a saying, a ritual, if you will, that I devised. I say it every morning, for luck.” I nodded stiffly. That man just got weirder and weirder. Though, of course, I couldn’t tell him that. “Well, then, we will commence with crossing the river after breakfast,” I told him. I turned and left, shivering a bit to myself. Was it cold out today?

How stupid a question was that? I was standing in a desert full of sand which greatly absorbed the heat, with the sun beating down on me even though it had just risen, and I wonder if it’s cold?!

Going back to my tent, I realized I felt fine. The only time I had caught a chill was when standing next to Ganondorf.

My mother had a saying I can remember. “If the air is cold around him, his heart is made of ice.” I had never really understood it before. Until now.