THE WATER-POET'S DAUGHTER

INTRODUCTION

“Tell me about yourself.”
“I have already told you all you need to know.”
“You told me your name... tell me about your family. 
“As you wish. My father was a water poet. A man who could catch the rain in his hands, and toss it back in a weave of words that would make the heavens weep…a man who could unlock the secrets imprisoned in a teardrop, and pull the stories from the seas. My mother was a reader of the sands, and all that lies buried beneath them. I am my mother’s daughter. Do you wish me to read the sands for you Templar?”
“What will it cost me?”
“Everything…and nothing.”
“You speak in riddles demon!”
“And, you like a fool. I can feel your desire through the sands you lay bleeding upon. The heat of your rage! You have been betrayed. Left to die in the desert, and yet when I offer you the answers you seek…you make barter like a fishmonger’s wife. And, I am no demon.”  
“What are you then?”
“I told you. I am the water poet’s daughter…a reader of the sands.”
“You’re a girl.”
“And, you a boy pretending to be a knight! I know you wear your master’s robes…carry his sword in your hands. Croicroga is its name. The blade of Gwynendad, Prince of Moeria, heir to the Oak Throne of Argoneh.”
“How do you know that?”
“All who die upon the sands are known to me. Your fire! It burns low. The jackals will come if you do not keep it well lit.”
“Look around you. There is naught to burn but sand.”
“Your horse. His bones will fuel your fire for many hours. His flesh will nourish you, and his blood will slacken your thirst. That is the way of the desert. It is expected.”
“Duendal has been with me since boyhood. I would rather die than lay hand upon him. ”
“As you wish. But, when you die, the jackals will take him. They will gut him where he stands, strip the flesh from his bones, and suck the marrow from them…and he will die in agony instead of honor.”
“Not if I give him to you. He’s yours! Just promise me you won’t leave him to the desert.”
“You would sacrifice your life for his?”
“He’s my friend.”
“Then it appears we have reached an accord. Your horse for my services.”
 “That’s it?”
“He is a fine horse, and like I said…I’m not a demon.”
“It’s hard to tell underneath all those veils. They’re made of sand aren’t they?”
“Yes."