The wind whistled across the dunes, whispering secrets no ear could decipher.  Undulating waves formed in the sand, the grains quickly filling the hoof prints and wheel tracks that stretched far behind the caravan.  Leiyu rode at the front, scanning the horizon for any threats.  The oppressive heat of the sun bore down on him.  His hair was damp under the weimao, and sweat ran slowly down his temple.  Through the veil, he saw the world in muted colors, much of it beige and blue.

A week had passed since the skirmish with the bandit horde.  So far, there had been no other attacks, although they did not want to grow complacent.  They were already on guard anyway and battling the elements at every moment.

When the sun sank toward the horizon, Leiyu spotted a welcome reprieve in the monotony of the desert landscape - an outline of a distant building.  They had reached a caravanserai in an oasis.  As they approached the high mudbrick walls, attendants in pale robes materialized from the arched doorways.

“Welcome, travelers!” one of the attendants said in Sargeshi.  “Will you be staying the night?”

“Yes, indeed,” Chen Yun replied.  “It has been weeks since we had a roof over our heads, and we recently lost many members of our group to bandits.”

“Oh!  How unfortunate!” the attendant said.  “Come, you can leave your horses and wagons in our stables.  Our walls are as thick as those of a fortress, and we have guards on duty day and night.  Rest assured, you will be safe here.  You can also get water in the courtyard to wash up with and a hot meal in our dining hall.”

One of the other attendants took the reins of Leiyu’s horse.  The horse whinnied and pulled back, clopping his hooves.  Leiyu laid a hand on his mane and whispered into his ear.  This calmed down the steed enough to lead him to the stables.

“Quite a spirited animal you’ve got,” the attendant remarked as they made it into the wooden frame of the stables.  There were other horses and camels already settled down in adjacent stalls.  “Does he have a name?”

“Bakhat,” Leiyu replied as he dismounted.  He took his weimao off and let it settle on his back.

“Bakhat?  What language is that from?” the attendant asked.  He scrutinized Leiyu’s face.  “Are you a Northerner or an Easterner?”

“Easterner, but I’ve lived in the North as well.  ‘Bakhat’ is not from any language.  I just made it up,” Leiyu said with a smile.  He saw the attendant raise his eyebrows.  “It’s like the sound of galloping.”  The attendant gave him a quizzical look but said nothing more.

Once Bakhat was properly housed in a stall and munching on hay, Leiyu went to the courtyard.  It was a spacious area with pomegranate trees growing along the perimeter.  Below the branches, overripe fruit had fallen to the ground and splattered long ago, leaving dried puddles interspersed among the scattered leaves on the dusty stone tiles.  

He spotted a well in the far corner and went over.  There was an old wooden bucket tied to a rope next to it.  He lowered it down the well until he could hear the water sloshing.  Pulling the rope, he raised the bucket, heavy with life-giving liquid.  Once the bucket was back at his feet, he cupped his hands, submerged them in the cool water, and brought them to his forehead.  It felt pleasant letting the droplets run down his face.

The rest of the water would go to replenishing his flask.  He reached into his sleeve and pulled out a gourd-shaped container.  Although he never really understood the mechanics of it, his sleeves had magical pockets sewn into the fabric which allowed him to store many large items easily.  From the outside, it looked like the items did not take up any space at all.  Once they went into the sleeve, they simply vanished, like a rabbit going down a hole.  When he needed a specific item, all he had to do was reach in until he could feel its surface and then bring it back out.  Pockets like these were common in the Eastern Region and they allowed people to embark on journeys while traveling light.

He removed the flask’s stopper and let it dangle from the red string tied to the gourd’s midsection.  Placing the flask on the ground, he lifted the bucket and tipped it slightly.  A tiny stream of liquid poured into the flask’s small opening.  Some of it dribbled down the curved surface while the rest sloshed around inside.  Once it was filled to the brim, he took a quick swig and replaced the stopper before slipping the flask back into his sleeve.  When he looked up, he saw an attendant standing near the courtyard entrance.

“They are serving dinner now,” the attendant said.  Leiyu followed the attendant down the corridor, glancing at the swirling floral designs on the floor tiles.  Perhaps the owners of this caravanserai installed these to create something of beauty in the middle of this monotonous nowhere - an oasis within an oasis.

They stopped at a large doorway, and the attendant motioned for Leiyu to go through.  The dining hall was spacious with minimal decorations.  Long wooden tables stretched before him like planks.  He spotted the merchants seated at the far corner of one, surrounded by strangers in cotton robes and square skullcaps.  Chen Yun looked up and waved, beckoning him to join them.

Leiyu made his way over and squeezed into the tight space between Chen Yun and Liang Fusheng.

“Hey, where did you go?” Chen Yun asked in Dongyu.

“Courtyard,” Leiyu mumbled.  “Water.”

“This one is quite sparse with words,” Liang Fusheng remarked.  Leiyu shrugged.

An attendant came to the table bearing a tray with various dishes.  He set them down on the table one by one.  There was a basket of flatbread, a bowl of dates, a large plate of dried meat, and a smaller plate with cheese.  “We also have lentil soup,” he said.  “Would you all like some?”

The travelers murmured in affirmation, and the attendant returned to the kitchen.  Leiyu waited until the merchants and other travelers each took a piece of flatbread before grabbing one for himself.

“So, where are you from?” Wang Yihui asked in Sargeshi to the traveler seated next to him.  The other man had bushy black eyebrows and a thick beard.  Crow’s feet clawed out from the edges of his eyes, and wrinkles lined his face.  His robes were a dark green and had a sheen of dust and sand.

“Western Region,” the traveler replied as he folded a lump of cheese into his flatbread.  “Sukarnaq, to be exact.”

“Oh nice, we’re heading to the Western Region ourselves,” Chen Yun said.

“Which city?”

Chen Yun paused, seeming to deliberate in his head.  He finally responded, “Ishkhandar.”

The traveler’s eyes lit up.  “Oh, the capital!  You might get there in time for the Summer Festival.  The city looks magnificent during the festivities.  I went once when I was younger.”

“Great!  Now we’ll have even more of a reason to go,” Chen Yun said with a smile.  He did not give any more details.  Leiyu guessed that he did not want to divulge to strangers that they were delivering goods to the palace, lest it tempt any possible thieves.

“Ishkhandar’s in its own little world,” the traveler continued.  “Like a wonderful dream that you don’t want to wake up from.  Other cities, well, they get by all right…”

Something about the traveler’s wistful tone made Leiyu wonder if there was more than what he was letting on.  He had no preconceived notions about the Western Region, so he doubted that its reality would disappoint him.  At the moment, the food in front of him was more important.  He reached for some strips of dried meat and ripped off small pieces to eat with his flatbread.  The rest he stashed into his sleeve.

“What is Sukarnaq like?” Chen Yun asked the traveler.

The traveler ran his hand through his beard.  “It’s seen better days.  We’ve been suffering from droughts on and off over the years.  We pray to the Goddess of Fire for help, but our harvests are meager.  I left to seek my fortune elsewhere so my family wouldn’t starve.  Been going back and forth on this desert route, transporting glass beads and carpets to sell in the Eastern markets.  It’s risky.  One of these days I’m going to get my throat slit by a bandit.”

“That happened to us,” Chen Yun remarked.  The traveler glanced at him.  “A horde of bandits attacked our caravan, and we lost all our guards.  They would have killed us too, but,”  he pointed at Leiyu,  “this one here rescued us.  He single-handedly defeated all the bandits with wind magic!”  Leiyu’s cheeks flushed and he huddled his shoulders to make himself smaller.

“Is that so, young man?” the traveler asked.  Leiyu said nothing and continued chewing on his flatbread.  The traveler’s wizened face creased as he chuckled.  “Ah, never underestimate the quiet ones.”

The attendant returned with a tray full of bowls.  “Lentil soup, freshly cooked.”  He laid them down one by one in front of each person.  Leiyu picked up the spoon that was half-submerged in the beans and brought it to his lips.  It was piping hot, and he caught a whiff of fragrant spices.  He sipped it slowly, letting the chunky concoction roll over his tongue before it flowed down his throat.  The texture reminded him of the mung bean soup that was served after meals back where he came from, although this soup was not sweet.  There was a hint of peppercorn and cumin, and some other flavors he could not name.  All food was precious, and he was discovering new ones he liked everyday.