The Ivory Road: A Walk in the Sand (10 page)

“Let’s wash and be done so you can get some sleep.”

He grabbed a washcloth and a cake of soap beside the tub and lathered them up before stroking the cloth over her body. Iliana helped by washing his back and his feet. He laughed at her waggling eyebrows as she had him stand up and cleaned his body from the hips down. She tortured him with gentle caresses over his penis and testicles, both drawn taut and hard. Lustful fire lit his eyes and his cock flexed at her touches, but he made no other moves to grab her. She stifled her disappointment and finished up her own body.

By the time they’d finished their bath, she could barely keep her eyes open and allowed Brandon to dry her off. He helped her into a clean robe and tucked her into the cool sheets of the bed.

“Are you coming to bed?” She rolled over and watched as Brandon toweled himself dry.

He laughed and shook his head. “While that’s a wonderful invitation, I’m not tired yet and I have some things to do before the day ends. You get some rest and I’ll be back at sunset to share a meal, and anything else, with you.” He gave her a lustful smile. “I’ll see you after your nap.”

“All right. Thank you for the pleasure and the bath.”

“I’m at your service, mistress.” He bowed and she laughed before closing her eyes.

She drifted into slumber to the soft sounds of Brandon moving around the room, comfortable and relaxed for the first time in more than a week.

Chapter Nin
e
: “The only thing constant in this world is change…”

Iliana woke to the sound of her stomach grumbling. She took a deep breath and stretched in the bed as she opened her eyes. The light from the window showed the day had slipped toward evening and she needed to get up soon.

Despite the need to move, her mind wandered down other paths. What had happened with Brandon?
We had sex.
True, it had been rather one-sided and possibly nothing more, but if more were to come, she wouldn’t turn it down.
And what if I never get back to my own world?
If she stayed, she’d definitely want to be with Brandon.
I could help him with setting up his school.
The thought cheered her more than she expected.

Swinging her feet over the side of the bed, she rose and noted the tub had vanished. No doubt Brandon had it emptied while she slept. Most of his saddlebags still sat in a large pile near the wardrobe, but two of the smaller bags were missing.
Probably going to fence his stolen goods.
She didn’t agree with stealing, but she wouldn’t pass judgment on a world she didn’t know well.

She padded onto the balcony and looked out at the wharves and bobbing ships. The light gave the world a surreal quality and she had the urge to explore. She turned to look for her clothes, but remembered the innkeeper’s reaction to her Knalish costume and paused. How would others treat her dressed like that? Swinging her gaze back over the balcony, she watched the afternoon travelers to determine if it was best to go out dressed as a man or a woman.

The women appeared to be dressed in fitted robes with scoop-necked blouses under open surcoats, and flowing trousers gathered at the ankles. The robe-like coat appeared to be secured to their waists with a sash or leather belt, and they wore a scarf or turban over their hair.

She shot a look at the dark surcoat lying on the floor. It smelled like horse and dirt, and lay stiff from sweat and sand. She wrinkled her nose. The last thing she wanted to do was put it back on, but she had nothing else.

Reaching for it, she hissed as her arm strained and she remembered her wound. Brandon had tended it before she’d fallen asleep, using the lavender oil at her sleepy direction, but it still throbbed and pulled as she stretched.

Every joint ached and she had saddle sores from riding, but the bath had helped loosen them. Her hips complained about such treatment and she admitted it had been much too long since they’d had such exercise.
That just means I need to have more sex.
Sex with Brandon.

Her thoughts returned to him as she dressed in her dirty clothes.
I definitely want more time with him.
Since there wasn’t much likelihood of getting home the same way she came, she suspected she’d get her wish.

His generous care in the bath and after warmed her heart as she tied the sash around her surcoat over her dark undershirt. She didn’t have a brush to get the tangles out of her hair, but she braided it to keep it out of her eyes. She hoped she looked sufficiently female as she wrapped the cloth of her turban around her head and gathered up her small saddlebag. She liked Brandon, his intelligence and humor.
And his laugh is frickin’ sexy
. They’d had some scary moments, and some not-so-nice moments, but she respected the man for his abilities.

So we’re friends with benefits.

To be brutally honest, she didn’t know him well, but she liked what he’d shown her. Spending more time traveling with Brandon wouldn’t be a bad thing, especially here in Torhaine, or wherever they’d go next.
And I want to show him my loving abilities.

Iliana scanned the room and wondered at the honesty of the staff at the inn. Grimacing, she dragged all of the heavy saddlebags of treasure into the wardrobe.
Hopefully out of sight means out of mind.
But Brandon might panic when his bags appeared to be missing. She initially looked for a piece of paper to leave him a note, but decided he might not be able to read it anyway.
We speak a similar language, but writing is a whole different critter.
Her stomach growled and she mulled the notion over in her mind, but rationalized she’d be back before he could worry long.

She made sure nothing looked like it had been left behind, tucked her belt pouch into her front pocket, and slung her saddlebag over her shoulder as she closed the door behind her. She had the coins from Reichart’s people.
I hope they can buy me a new wardrobe.

Iliana slipped through the inn’s common room and breathed a sigh of relief when she avoided the suspicious innkeeper’s scrutiny. The sooner she bought more suitable clothing the better her stay would be. The oppressive heat had let up with the progress of the sun across the sky and the streets filled with evening shoppers.

She perused the marketplace for clothes to differentiate her from the Knalish while still providing enough cover from the desert sun. The vendors eyed her with mistrust at first, but when she showed genuine interest in their wares, they jumped at the chance to delight her. She found a golden linen shirt and a creamy off-white surcoat embroidered with gold thread for a few coins from a chubby man with a handlebar mustache.
I probably paid too much, but they’re worth the coin.

Another vendor sold tan and brown harem pants, loose-fitting in the legs for riding, but gathered at the ankles to keep them from flapping. Satisfied with her purchases, she tucked them in her saddlebag and wandered away from the wharf toward the eastern portion of the city. Hunger gnawed at her belly and she bought a meat pie, her mouth watering at the scents of curry and saffron.

Iliana paused just outside the gates as the setting sun painted the sands a deep salmon pink. A breeze danced on the sand, swirling it in a miniature dust devil. The sun on her back felt good, but not as good as knowing she’d survived the Karobis and all it threw at her. She smirked and brushed the crumbs from the meat pie off her hands.

You tried to kill me, but I managed to live through your gauntlet.
It didn’t mean it wouldn’t get her at a later time, but she’d won this round.
I don’t plan on traveling your sands again for a while.

She dropped the saddlebag at her feet and watched the dust devil dance in the fading sunlight. The changing colors made her smile and settled her soul. She might not know this world as well as the other, but for now she’d grabbed a measure of peace.

The breeze stiffened and the dust devil whirled closer to where she stood. The sounds of the city behind her faded a little as grains of sand stung her cheeks. Iliana squinted and blinked to keep the sand out of her eyes, but the wind strengthened. She brought her hands up to protect her eyes from the flying grains and staggered backward a few steps as the wind pushed against her.

At last, the wind died and the dust devil skittered away across the sunset-lit sands. She shook her head and snorted.
Nice try, Karobis. I’m not that easily shaken.

She sighed and reached down for the saddlebag. When she couldn’t find it, she swung around, searching the sandy expanse. Her boot caught in the thick sand and she tumbled to her knees, scratching the exposed skin.

Exposed skin?
She dropped her gaze to her body and froze. Instead of her black surcoat over matching harem pants and knee-high boots, she wore her wicking shorts, sweat-stained tanktop, and hiking boots over wool socks.

“What the hell?”

Iliana climbed to her feet, looking for anything to explain the drastic change in attire. She almost tripped over her nylon backpack resting in the sand and she gaped at it.
Where the hell did that come from?
Unease crawled up her throat and she swung her gaze to take in her environment.

The sun sank behind a range of mountains a few miles away, the blue shadows encroaching on her toes. The city of Ros Torach had disappeared and a parking lot full of cars and SUVs stretched out in front of her. Her own Jeep Cherokee sat parked not fifteen yards from where she stood and a large sign with the words “White Sands National Monument” rose out of the ground beside a split-rail fence marking a trailhead.

“Oh no.” She rubbed her eyes with her fists to make sure she wasn’t imagining the change. When she opened them again, the view remained the same, and her shoulders drooped.
I’m back home.

Everything was gone. Brandon, Aristotle, Ros Torach, and the Karobis Desert. Somehow she’d stepped back across a dimensional doorway and returned to her own world.

“It’s where I’m supposed to be and what I know best.” The words echoed in the evening breeze, but they didn’t fill her with relief or joy. She dropped to her butt in the sand and draped her arms over her knees, shaking her head. She’d returned to the world she understood.
This is good, right?
She grimaced as Brandon’s face filled her mind’s eye and her heart ached a little. She’d kind of been hoping to stay with him.
God, I hope Brandon doesn’t think I ran out and left him to his own devices.
She had no way to tell him she’d simply gone back to her world, and she hadn’t left him a note.

A warm breeze with a hint of cool brought the scents of desert and hot oil from someone’s vehicle. Normal scents, things she’d experienced in her world.
Unlike crossing dimensions.

She looked down at her backpack and sighed as her stomach sank.
What if I imagined it all?
Her heart growled at her mind for suggesting such a thing.
It was real and I know it.
But all the hard evidence around her supported fantasy.

Hey, at least I can now get to my commitments down in Australia.
Perhaps the crew of the new movie she’d been contracted to make with Taggart Crowe still waited on her.
I’m only a few days late
.

But she didn’t want
Taggart.
I want Brandon and Aristotle.

The thought surprised her and the ache in her heart grew. She shook her head and clambered to her feet, stretching out her back as the breeze cooled more with the sinking sun.
Fever dream or not, I’m not likely to see them again.
Sorrow burrowed into her chest.

Iliana exhaled and pressed a hand to her gut as her stomach roiled.
What’s wrong with me?
She shook her head and dug through her backpack for her car keys. She found her cell phone and a water bottle with stale water in it. She threw her pack over her shoulders, ignoring her injured arm as she shuffled through the sand toward her car.

She stopped at the door of her Jeep and leaned her head against the warm metal.
It’s good to be home.
The words were the right ones, but her gut didn’t echo the sentiment. Part of her wanted to open her eyes and find she’d made a mistake. She wanted to turn around and see Aristotle standing with one hind leg crooked up and resting. But when she looked to the west beyond the roof of her vehicle, more cars and blacktop met her gaze.

Iliana unlocked the door and climbed into the warm seat. She threw her pack in the back and started the Jeep. The AC blasted warm air in her face and she turned it off. She switched on the radio and rolled down the window, letting the night air cool the Jeep.

Her head spun for a moment and she leaned back against the headrest, her gaze sliding up through the sunroof. The stars come out in the velvety dark as if the world hadn’t shifted. She recognized the Big Dipper and Orion, stars she knew from growing up.
This is where I belong and my own world.
It still didn’t feel completely right.
But it’s not what I really want.

She turned on her lights as she threw the jeep into gear. The tires crunched on the gravel as she pulled out of the parking lot and sped up the road toward the highway entrance. The NPR announcer reported the date of Sunday, May twenty first at six thirty in the evening.

Iliana blinked.
Wait, May twenty-first?
Her ever-practical mind reminded her she had just enough time to make the twelve hour drive to her apartment in Hollywood, pack and catch a taxi to the airport to catch her late morning flight to Sydney, Australia. Her mind went back over all the sunrises she’d seen. Eight days should have passed.
Maybe it was a fever dream.

She shook her head.
It doesn’t matter. I’m here now.
She tried to be happy she’d gotten back to her Jeep in time, but her gut still cramped with the assertion something was wrong.
No, I’m fine. I’m home.

The blacktop stretched into the eternity of twilight and she switched the radio to a music station. Iliana straightened her shoulders for the long drive and set her mind ahead, ignoring the feeling she’d lost something important.

THE END