A lone oil lamp cast flickering light across the sandstone walls of a modest room.

The shutters of the sole window occasionally rattled in the wind. Distant thunder roiled, but no rain followed. 

Swordeater laid on a simple bed. His chest had been stripped bare, and the wound dressed in clean bandages. His skin was still pale, but his breathing had settled into slow rises and falls.

It would be peaceful, if it weren't for the knowledge that his only means of travel was either damaged or destroyed. Sandhailer sighed, and buried his head in his hands. He remained like that for a while.

A small, wooden door opened to his side. He looked up from his concerns, to see a young woman holding a platter with a simple teapot and a few small dishes. After days in the desert it felt like a meal not unbecoming of royalty.

The young woman smiled through a thin purple veil, and he did the same behind his own even if she wouldn't be able to see. Perhaps she could tell from his eyes, as she nodded.

"The elder will meet you in the morning, Rubaan." Captain. A title reserved for those commanding the ocean ships and royal navigators – but used colloquially by the peoples in the desert to address the sandsailers.

"Thank you." He took her hand in both of his for a moment, as a sign of gratitude. She took it with a graceful nod, and he let go of her again.

He had his meal in silence, resting the platter on his lap whilst setting the teapot down beside him. The liquid itself was bitter and strong, but he was grateful for any flavour other than the leather of his waterskin. Dates, a simple flatbread with dried vegetables, and a slice of watermelon made the rest of his meal. There was no meat, but he did not expect more than had already been given to him.

He had undone his veil on one side to eat and drink, but did not take it off fully.

When Swordeater stirred suddenly, he immediately did the face-cover up again. The man glanced around in a daze, clearly confused by the room. Only when their eyes met, did clarity return to his gaze. He attempted to sit up, but gasped loudly and clutched his waist.

Sandhailer placed a hand on his shoulder, holding him against the cot.

"Stay down."

Swordeater nodded and took a trembling breath, fighting the pain.

"Why are you still here?" The man groaned.

"My sailer is gone." He stated truthfully, but Swordeater shook his head, unsatisfied with that answer. It seemed that the endless questions had taught him which answers were insufficient. 

"When you cut me loose, I was certain you left me to die. You should have – I don't understand why you didn't? You have your missive…"

Swordeater looked at him, but he did not so much as waver, staring right back. He took the letter out.

"I am fast, not cruel." Sandhailer held the parchment between his fingers. "It's only paper."

"But that is not true at all." Swordeater immediately shook his head. "That letter could save a thousand people."

"Or condemn them. I don't know, so it doesn't matter." He tucked the letter away again, and leant against the back of the chair. Swordeater incredulously shook his head, but stayed quiet for a while. The silence appeared to make him uncomfortable, so soon enough a question arose.

"Haven't you ever gotten curious about what is in those messages?"

Sandhailer shrugged.

"I never read any. I don't get paid for that."

With a soft sigh Swordeater laid back down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling for a few moments.

"Eat some." Before Swordeater could ask more questions, Sandhailer picked up the small plate of leftover dates and held them out.

Swordeater sighed and accepted the food. As he did, Sandhailer stood up from his chair and fastened his cloak around his neck.

"It is a long way to Jawhara."

"Jawha,- you are taking me there?" Swordeater stammered in shock, his mouth full of dates.

"Eat. Then rest. We will leave in three days." Sandhailer said, not caring to explain. He swung the small door open and left.