After the first day, she hasn’t made any advances which feels… relieving in some way and disappointing in another. Not that I favor being made the lesser of an outsider, but she can probably best me in almost any area, without even speaking of wealth. Especially knowing her wealth, almost any of the troupe would probably give their station to become her lesser. My reputation would be destroyed, though. Very few are let to lead troupes which collect trappings from the outside; to give up my career so that I may become her lesser is beyond foolish, and if I think she would give up hers and become my lesser, I am as delusional as she.

Ahead, dunes get smaller and smaller, until they blend into the sky on the horizon. It brings forth indescribable feelings of contentedness. I can never give this up; this desert is my home. It is the only place where I truly feel free, away from the influence of man. So what if I will not enter wedlock and become a lesser? There could still be fun to be had before and after we reach Ania. What could go wrong? I let out a chuckle. Always, the women who interest me are the ones who could make fast friends of my head and the sand.

I can save that line of thinking for later, though. For now, I pull the sundial and compass from the pouch on Hayi, who grunts to let me know that he is hungry- as always. I know of an oasis which would be a moderate detour, but one for which the troupe would be grateful. I have been with them for 3 years. In that time, they have grown to respect me, even Buzan, who is 15 years my elder and more stubborn than a desert flower. I remember the bickering and shouting when a mere 20-year-old was raised to lead the troupe. All the fighting- hell, I still have a scar on my knee from when Buzan had laid wire and a host of nettles and cacti before my tent. Back then, I thought they had truly meant to kill me. I smiled at my own naivety nostalgically. I really owed my success to my troupe.

Of course, I should ask the client if she is willing to take the detour towards the oasis, but I honestly doubt that she would even notice we have turned, as absorbed into practice as she is now. Still, I want to find some excuse to talk to her. I signal a stop to eat, and my second, Emag, shoots me a knowing glance as I dismount and move towards the back of the file. I take back all I have said about owing my troupe anything, the jealous louts.

---~

The desertfriend, Relyn, moves towards me with a reddened cheeks. No doubt the troupe has been teasing him, as they had for the past days. It was very fun to watch him get riled up over their jaunts. One of the troupe, Faaryl, who rode in front of me, had explained on the second night that among desertfriends, wealth and ability determined one’s role in marriage, and I had more or less asserted that he was fully beneath me. At least, that is what I have concluded; All his talk of lesser and greater made little sense to me. My disrespect of Relyn did not seem to bother him, though- actually it was quite the opposite, much to the amusement of his troupe, who could not keep grins from their faces as they cracked jokes at his expense. Still, they seemed to respect the man, only going so far as to tease him as a brother or sister would.

I have been patient in waiting for him to finally show his interest, but my patience is starting to wear thin. If he will not speak outside of business with me today, I will say enough to have him redder in the face than the death mountains before he lays to rest.

“How does your practice fare?” he asks, once again.

I chain a diagonal slash into a quick sheath of my sword. “Well. The poor balance of my ride is decent training for slashes on bad footing.”

He laughs to himself, and hands me a parcel of dried, stringy meat. “Do you ever think of anything besides dueling.”

“Sometimes, when it does not interrupt my training; Sometimes I even think of men.” His face reddens; Ahhh what fun. I can hardly blame any of his troupe for teasing him so. Interestingly, he does not turn away, and instead offers his hand to help me dismount the camel. The thought of rejecting it crosses my mind, but I would rather not have him run away again, so I take it.

I guess he can see my discomfort, though, because he asks “Is something wrong, swordsmistress?”

I shake my head. He stares at me, unconvinced. “Call me by my name.” I tell him. It would not do to have a man worry over me- has he forgotten he is speaking to a renowned duelist? In fact, it is probably best if I make certain now that he understands I do not need someone to look after me as a mother.

“I appreciate your concern, Relyn, but I wish to make clear that you needn’t be concerned at all. ‘The duelist’s lover wears only black.”’ I tell him flatly, “It is true I have some interest in you, but do not attach yourself to me, or you will only be met with strife.”

His face takes on a little pallor as he says, “I was not expecting anything like that, miss. I only was showing concern for my client.”

Good. As long as he understands I do not want a relationship, we can have some fun, him and I. It would be fun to watch his tanned face flush red beneath me.

“Tomorrow night, we will be arriving at an oasis. You should come to my tent then.” he says. He glances at my face, “If you would like.” he quickly adds.

I nod and reply “Sure Relyn” saying his name in a honeyed voice to provoke him. Of course, the man turns away, hiding his expression. I smile at the side of his head and offer prayer in thanks of Khelar for the opportunities he provides me. Soon he would be unable to look away from me. The next night could not come fast enough.

After a moment, though, he resumes idle chatter about trivial matters such as my hometown. For whatever reason I feel inclined to ask him questions in return, even though I do not care about his answers. These back and forth questions continue, and I begin to wonder why it is I am choosing to continue this conversation, rather than practice. Perhaps I have missed out on genuine conversation recently, as solitarily as I have been living over the past few years. At least, that is the only explanation which makes sense to me.

Eventually, he has spent too long caught up in conversation, and some of the troupe stands around waiting for him, staring with humor in their eyes. I make eye contact with Faaryl, and wink, which sends him and some of the other members of the troupe into laughter. Relyn looks up from me and finally notices the troupe standing about, staring at him. His face drains of blood a little bit, but he surprisingly keeps the blushing from his face. “Alright, we probably ought to get back to our travels” he says, loud enough for the troupe to hear. An older man, whose name I haven’t learned shouts out “Shouldn’t your greater decide that?” The crew breaks out into laughter. Now, though, Relyn seems to lean into the joke, “Well darling, what is your command?” The faces of the troupe are almost as outrageous as the ones Relyn himself could make, and I was hit with a pang of sadness, seeing the type of bond which I could never have. I did not wish to bring down the mood, however, so I tried my best to smile and told them “Let us go.” I wish Relyn did not look at me as if he had seen right through my false smile.