Chapter 2: Kalann Sefu

If you asked Kalann Sefu what the hardest part of living in the desert was, he would tell you it was the sand.

Not just because it got everywhere. Not just because of how course and rough it was. No, the real problem with sand is that it was all but impossible to build anything on it. With such a loose foundation, houses and buildings were all but guaranteed to sink. And if you were the sort of madman who decided to be an architect in those conditions? Not even the spirits could save you from driving yourself crazy.

Wiping sweat from his brow, Kalann paused to take a drink from his waterskin. He winced at the taste. It had been a long time since they'd had proper rain, and the water supply was stagnating quickly. If the dry season didn't let up soon...

He shook the thoughts off. *Leave those worries to Hother. You've got a house to finish.*

Sighing, he dug into the bucket beside him with a worn iron trowel and added another layer to the top of the waist-high wall in front of him. It was a long, arduous process building with mud. You had to wait for every layer of mud to dry completely before putting the next one on, a process that could take up to an hour. He'd been working on this particular house for the past week, and he still hadn't finished a single wall. And that was fast for him.

*Perhaps I should've been a craftsman*, he wryly thought. *Imagine all the beautiful trinkets I could make out of sand.*

Something plinked against the bucket. Kalann stopped mid-work and looked up. *Oh no.* Sure enough, dark clouds were starting to gather in the sky. The brilliant sun began to disappear into grey.

"Really?" he yelled up at the sky. "Of all days?"

The sky answered with another plink against the wall. Then another. It seemed Kalann's worries had been answered; there was a rainstorm on the way at last.

Sighing, Kalann shoved his trowel into the bucket of mud. *Guess that's all the work I'm doing today.*

Sending a silent prayer for his half-finished wall to survive the rain, he took off for home.

* * *

The desert village of Pailan was concealed inside a deep canyon, a fissure carved by an ancient river that had long since dried up. The crevasse was so wide that the entire village fit into it and still allowed room for vast expanses sand and soil on both sides. It was one of the most isolated communities in Geyron, far away from the politics and chaos of the great cities, safe and secure in its own little world.

As Kalann hurried down the streets, he saw his friends and neighbors slipping inside. Junia the baker flashed him a smile as she threw a tarp over her wares. "What a time for a storm, eh?" she called.

"The spirits must hate me," Kalann said, coming to a stop.

"Oh, don't be so glum. You're not important enough for them to hate."

Kalann sighed. If even Junia's snark wasn't getting him riled up, he must be truly dejected.

He'd faced many bad days in his life; it was the cost of living in such a harsh environment. This one, however, felt a bit like a personal insult. He had wanted to really *explore* the desert outside the canyon, seek out plots of land where the village could expand to accommodate its slowly growing population. This should have been one of the most productive days in a long time. So of course it was now, of all times, that the dry spell finally decided to break.

He noticed Junia looking at him with a concerned expression; his bad mood must have shown on his face. "Sorry," he said, trying to perk up. "I'll be okay."

"Hmmm." After a moment's thought, Junia reached under the tarp and tossed a loaf of crusty bread at Kalann. "Here, on the house."

"Woah!" Kalann caught the bread. "Thank you, but-"

"No buts. Nothing like fresh-baked bread for a bad mood. Now get inside before you get my handiwork all soaked."

Kalann smiled. Now his mood was starting to look up. "I'll treasure it," he said, jogging off.

"And tell Sparks he still owes me for last month if you see him!" Junia called after him.

"Will do!"

The rain was starting to pick up. Kalann tucked the bread under his tunic to keep it dry and started to run. Junia was right; good bread shouldn't be ruined in the rain.

* * *

Mercifully, Kalann made it back home before the downpour really started. From inside, he could hear the harsh patter on the room. His stomach twisted; there was no way his wall was going to survive a storm this large. A week's worth of hard effort, gone.

*Seems the universe is determined to make me miserable today*, he thought bitterly.

Sighing, he shuffled to the kitchen table and slumped down into a chair. There was some goat's cheese still on the table from last night; a quick sniff suggested it was still edible. In short order, he'd sliced the bread, spread on the soft cheese and started munching away. Perhaps he'd feel better with some food in his stomach.

He glanced around his home. Like all the houses in the village of Pailan, his house had only one floor, with a cellar beneath. Like all the others, it was loosely divided into three rooms: a kitchen, a lounge, and Kalann's bedroom, each separated by an open doorway coverable with a rough curtain. Like all the others, the wooden door to the house was in the lounge, the central room. The exact same design, just one of so many identical copies tucked together in the shadow of the canyon walls. It was so incredibly boring. That was why he'd decided to be an architect as he grew up: if his world wouldn't become more interesting on its own, then perhaps he could give it a push.

Over on the lounge table, Kalann could see parchment scrolls laid out in a cluttered mess, weighted down by rocks to keep them open. His diagrams. He felt a faint twinge of pride. He'd spent years working on new building designs, tweaking and refining them, coming back every time he thought he was finished and finding new ways to improve them. They barely resembled the first, incredibly rough drafts he'd drawn up when he was barely ten years old. Now all he had to do was actually build them, and perhaps then his life would stop feeling so... stagnant.

Assuming the rain ever let up, of course.

He sighed. His train of thought had brought him right back to the accursed rain. *I've got to hand it to you*, he thought dryly, *you are a master at finding ways to make yourself miserable.*

Hopefully, it would clear up before too long. After all, not many rainstorms this strong reached so far into the desert of Aridus.

He took another bite of bread. It really was delicious, warm and nutty and spotted with doughy pockets. And the tangy cheese made it even more mouth-watering. Silently, he decided he was in Junia's debt. Once this storm was over, he would repair her house free of charge. It was the least he could do in return.

Until then, though, all he could do was wait.

* * *

The storm continued well into the night. Indeed, it only seemed to grow stronger as the sun fell on the horizon. By the time most of Pailan was asleep, it was raging as if to wake them all up. Thunder rocked the sky and rain carved away at the mud houses. No one would be fool enough to be outside in this weather.

Which is why no one was out to see the dark figure who appeared at the top of the canyon ridge.

Evartan paused and looked around, making sure he hadn't been followed. Then, slowly, he set down the cliffside toward the rain-soaked village.