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Leivrat.

Shacha's heart still beat fast long after King of the Dust and his man left. She approached the old commode - the only other furniture in the room beside the chair - where she kept the few things left to her from the life she once had.

She placed the two boxes the King of the Dust left her with next to her copper comb. She pulled the pins out of her hair, some fell to the floor, she did not notice. Next, she slid down the wooden bangles from her upper arms. There was a time when everything she wore was made out of gold and precious stones. It seemed to her like someone else's life now.

She looked at herself in the mirror. Timeworn and with cracks on the sides, it stood atop of the commode pinned against the wall. Her own frightened eyes looked back at her. The impressions of horrors the King of the Dust had described still written on her face. She looked at the two boxes, the silver and the green, considering which to open first - one was duty, the other mystery.

Deciding at last, she picked up the silver box and opened it and forced a calm expression on her face. Once satisfied, she pressed her thumb against the surface of the mirror, which had been made for her and responded only to her touch. The image blurred and for a while all she saw was grey sand. Then at last, a reflection of a face emerged on the surface.

She had never learnt his name. He reminded her of a hungry snake, ready to jump at her. The corners of his lips set low, betrayed him as a man who seldom laughed. His features, fine and beautiful as any Sandul's, bore deeply ingrained indifference.

"Speak." As usual, he did not greet her. It was his way of humiliating her even further and showing her how low she had fallen.

"The stranger was seen in the market yesterday. Someone set off dust crackers and he disappeared in the tumult," she said.

"What else?" This was old news for him, she sensed. Someone had informed him already.

"The Aleutan prince came to the Orvatan den last night. The Captain of the Guards turned up before I could do anything."

"Why was he there?" he asked with the same voice.

"He was there with three friends. All highborn. Came to seek fun."

"Did he mention anything that can be of use to us?"

"No," she replied, and it earned her a displeased frown. She quickly added, "The boy is arrogant and impatient. He can be easily provoked and fooled."

"The son is like the mother," he said more to himself. "Do you know how he looks?"

"Yes."

"That can be of use to us. Anything else?"

She thought of telling him about the King of the Dust's visit, but one glance at the dark green box atop of the commode made her decide against it.

"That's all," she heard herself say. The man on the other side of the mirror drew away. "Please. How is he?" she asked, her fingers squeezing the box tighter.

"Did you feel him die?"

"No."

"There is your answer," he said almost bored. The image blurred again.

"Tell me!" she screamed at the mirror, but the man was already gone.

She shook her head and placed the silver box on the commode. The Masters of the Sands will never give her any news of him. It was their way of torturing her. And it worked. Every new day she spent here, meant another day for him locked up underneath the sand.

Through the unshed tears, she looked at the green box again. King of the Dust's gift called her, it wanted to be opened. Slowly she held up the lead and her eyes lit up.

Shacha hoped it was what she thought it might be. It turned out to be better than she could have ever expected. The box contained red sand of the finest texture. The reddest of red, worth a fortune! There was a time she had it every day. That is how wealthy she was. Now even a small dose of it made her heart beat faster. She opened the drawer and pulled out a similar box, yet bigger, made out of crude green glass. She opened its lead and placed the two boxes beside each other.

Her own box contained red brownish sand. She was once poor and was raised on it. It looked dull and coarse-grained next to the fine red sand. The memories of trying it for the first time rushed back to her. He was there that day. It was his gift to her. She never thought that such happiness and bliss could ever exist.

She touched the small pile of red send with her finger. The tiny grains stuck to the surface of her skin. She moved her finger closer to her face admiring it. Mesmerised, she licked it and felt the grain dissolve within her body. It tasted like music, the most beautiful tune she had ever heard, the sweetest of the aromas she had ever known.

Her eyes wandered to her own image in the old mirror. She saw her eyes brightening, her hair shimmering with fire, the patterns on her face and body regaining their former beauty, and her skin radiating with youthfulness and health. The heat, the swollen limbs, it all did not matter. It was all gone. She was herself again.

I am beautiful. I am the most beautiful of all. I will always be the most beautiful, she thought. My love, if only you could see me. There is no need for me to be afraid. How could you ever not love me? What a foolish thing to think.

She giggled at her own image in the mirror. She loved the woman that looked back at her. Powerful. Unstoppable. Someone as beautiful as her did not have to fear life. She had forgotten it. She had become weak. Now she remembered who she was. She was Shachara of the Sandthorn Sisters. She was special. Everyone had always loved her and tried to please her. And those who didn't? She destroyed them. She will get it all back. Everything that is owed to her she will take back. And more.

She pulled down her gown. It caressed her body as it fell to the floor. She felt the breeze blow through the window and play with her naked skin. Slowly, her head raised high, Shacha walked over to the sleeping cocoon that Sanduls slept in. It looked like a dry brown leaf and it unfolded at her touch letting her inside. The leaf enveloped her, shutting out all the noises. She immediately felt the humidity levels drop to the comfortable dry. She sighed with pleasure and closed her eyes.

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Note from the writer

Please don't think that I am promoting the usage of drugs. :) Sanduls are creatures of sand, they need sand as we need food and it keeps them young and beautiful. There are different types of sand; the red sand she received from Gaulot is the purest sand that can be found. The humidity in Leivrat deforms Sanduls, the "cocoon" they sleep in (and yes, they sleep standing) helps them regenerate to a certain degree. The red sand has the ability to stop the ageing process. The red browning sand does the trick too, but not quite as well.

Let me know your thoughts on this idea. :)

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