The Oathbreaker's Shadow **SAMPLE COMPLETE**

Part 10 - Chapter 5.2

To find Loni, Raim followed the sound of bleating goats. Sure enough, as the dust began to clear, he saw his grandfather, heels dug firmly into the ground, trying to coax one of the beasts into motion.

‘Where’s . . . Dharma?’ Loni spluttered between heaves.

‘She’s gone on ahead.’ Raim moved behind the three oversized beasts and pushed their tails till they took small steps forward out of annoyance.

‘What? You shouldn’t have left her alone. I would’ve got them moving sooner or later.’

Raim looked into the surly yellow eyes of the goats and seriously doubted it. The people of the steppes treated their goats well – so well that they grew to the size of young horses. Raim had heard that goats were smaller and scrawnier than sheep in the South. It was no wonder. The Southerners, especially around the capital of Aqben, were well known to the Darhanians as a stagnant, lazy people, never moving, treating the land like a slave, working it relentlessly. When he thought of the South he was glad for the enormous, savage desert between them. No one except the savage Alashan and the destitute Chauk survived in the desert. And they survived only because they had no choice but to – they were not welcome anywhere else.

When the goats were all moving and the entire tribe had begun the long journey back towards the capital city of Kharein, Raim ran forward to find Dharma. The scene was organized chaos. The smell of fresh camel dung invaded Raim’s nostrils and he held his nose as he passed by a particularly stinky beast. The neat single file line had degraded as families speeded up or slowed down in order to travel side by side and gossip about the messenger and the old man they had seen being driven off in a cart destined for the Garra prison.

Raim ran up behind Dharma, surprising her by hoisting her onto the back of their camel as he grabbed the reins. Her bright giggles in turn made him laugh, and he was glad that his grandfather had a lively young girl to raise after being stuck with two serious boys. Although he and Khareh never failed to make trouble and keep Loni – not to mention the Prince’s bodyguards – on his toes, Raim’s dedication to becoming Yun meant he had always restrained himself, not daring to make a mistake that might ruin his chances. Khareh once bragged to Raim he had run so far into the Sola desert he had thrown stones at the Chauk. While Raim strongly doubted whether anyone – even a prince – had that kind of courage or endurance, Khareh certainly had the freedom. He didn’t have to worry about having Yun mentors to upset, or a grandfather to scold him. Batar-Khan rarely questioned Khareh – the scene in the royal tent had been one of the very few times Raim had ever seen the Khan confront his heir.

Raim didn’t know what had happened to Dharma’s parents; but it was well known that they were not of Moloti tribe origin, for she had arrived in the company of two soldiers. Loni knew. A new promise knot had appeared round his neck the same day she arrived. It wasn’t hard to guess, though. Men and women who disappeared without word or warning were only destined for one place: Lazar.

‘Pass me my loom, please, Raim,’ she said, patting the top of his turban with her tiny hands as he walked. He threw the reins over his shoulder and fumbled through one of the saddlebags. He had taken special care to pack Dharma’s travel loom close to the top of the pack; he knew she would ask for it. She was always weaving and the elders all complimented her on her skill. The loom was as wide as Raim’s forearm and twice as long. Dharma used it to weave squares of carpet as they were wandering through Darhan, and later the squares would all be sewn together to create walls and floors for their yurts or blankets for cold nights. Even Raim, who was no expert in such things, could recognize the intricacy of her loom work, the woven figures so lively he could almost see them moving. With her skills, she could hope to join the Una tribe of weavers, who had won Batar Khan’s Royal Warrant and were widely regarded as the most superior of all the weavers.