The desert was a place of illusions and mirages- a place of intense extremes where the faint-hearted could not hope to survive. Those who eked out a living in the unforgiving sand mounds either fast learned to deal with the harsher realities of life or merely sat awaiting certain death in the dehydrating heat. It was not a forgiving master.

Lukas knew this well enough. His thirty-odd life had been spent attempting to scrape out a decent living in the hot city of Carthage- a fate certainly not favourable to any but when one was born surrounded by the natural barricade of sand and more sand, one tended to learn to make do with what one had instead of daydreaming of what could be. Dreams were worth nothing in these barren wastelands. Only reality.

He rubbed his eyes, wiggling his sweaty toes slightly to remove the tiny grains of sand that had gotten into the crevices between each toe. The sand was a grim, persistent reminder of the life to the people of Carthage- it went everywhere. Children cried upon finding them in the food, wives complained about it while sweeping, men laughed about it while waiting for the glass to cool. Sand was life, sand was death- that was the unspoken understanding that everyone shared. No one knew how life would have been without the sand; no one could quite imagine how it would be without it either.

“Laugh about it, complain about it all you want in crowds,” his father had told him when Lukas had first followed him on one of his rounds. “Never talk about it when you’re alone- remember that! Ears are everywhere. Once the desert hears you, you’ll never find your way out.”

His father never quite returned from his next visit to the other city. Some said that he had been caught in a sandstorm and probably starved to death. Others told him that his father had probably been captured by the cannibalistic Undergrounders and served as supper. No one had been able to give a certain answer, for no one ever dared venture past the oasis. He had watched as his older brother took the same route after the disappearance, slogging day by day until the same happened to him.

And now, it was his turn.

He chanced a look at the sky. The hot eye was almost at the horizon, and a cold zephyr had begun to rise the sands. It was time that he was going.

His sandaled feet made tiny crunches on the ground as he strolled through the almost empty marketplace. The merchants were almost done with packing the leftovers of their daily business, greeting him rather distractedly with half-waves as they calculated their earnings of the day. They knew him well enough to be able to greet him at sight, but none of them ever looked him in the eye. He was their regular supplier of material, yes, but to admit that one knew an outcast would be the same as instant suicide. No one mixed with the outcasts, though business transactions were allowed. It would spell financial ruin.

He nodded respectfully at two women who were talking to a priest at the side of the road. Their reactions never differed- the women would look all together horrified at being acknowledged by such a low-caste person, while the priest would utter a soft “Peace”. Only those involved in religion could actually look him in the eye- religion loved and acknowledged all, or so the preaching went. Others merely ignored him or looked affronted upon noticing his presence.

The long market street had reached an end, and smack in the middle of the road was a mule. A boy held the reins tightly as it tugged at it, looking all too restless at the long wait. Lukas came to a stop.

“Mamma tells you to be careful,” the boy intoned as he handed the camel-hide reins to Lukas. A handful of coins was handed over to the smaller boy in retribution. “The winds are coming in.”

“I will,” Lukas replied as he watched the younger boy count the coins under his breath. No schooling unlike those from higher castes, yet he knew how to count money even to the third denomination. When circumstances dictated that you learn how to live your life, you were to listen to it and not cry out like a rebellious child. “Five and a half. No need to count.”

“Just checking,” the boy shrugged as he pocketed the brass circles. “Mamma will be glad. Jaga.”
—-
Jaga- take care.

And take care Lukas certainly did tonight. The winds of the desert seemed to conspire against him tonight, raising more sand than they usually did, dropping the temperature faster than usual. He shivered, feeling the cold seep through the thin, rough fabric of his clothes.

The faster he got everything done and over with tonight, the better- it seemed that the seasonal rains may come soon. With any luck, Carthage would be blessed with rain tomorrow- enough to last them for weeks before they went back to the water-trading with the nearby oasis.

“The desert is great,” he uttered, half to himself, half to appease the great spirit of the sand that was probably listening to his mule’s every laborious step. If he was to meet his contact tonight, he would have to pray for the blessing of the desert to clear the sands that blinded his eyes.

A field mouse peeped out from its burrow as his mule plodded past, chittering slightly with a slight twitch of its nose. It was quiet out here with no sign of people, save for the sighing of the wind as it brushed above the sands. He trained his eyes to the horizon, watching for any sign of human life.

There was a black speck in the dying sunlight amidst the huge shadows of the mountains to the north. As Lukas rode closer, it enlarged into a shadow, and at last into a silhouette holding a tiny beacon that gave insufficient light for anything else but to light a few steps. The man from the Underground city was swathed head to toe in thick black fabric, leaving no section of the skin exposed to the air save for the eyes. Lukas had heard that the Undergrounders were sensitive to the light, and even the dying light had a phenomenal effect, a peeling effect if it was exposed even for short spans of time. He had never quite bothered to find out if this rumour was true- the Underground culture was not of his interest. Business remained business.

“The desert spirits greet you,” he uttered the usual greeting as he stopped the donkey. The fidgety beast tossed its head at him, braying obstinately.

“And may you be blessed,” came the wary reply. “What have you to trade with us today?”

He needn’t check the pouches on the mule to be able to rattle off the list of merchandise that the merchants had entrusted upon him to trade. When one spent their entire life being the go-between the Overworlders of Carthage and the Undergrounders, one shared no friends, no social contact with others to be able to occupy themselves with hobbies, so to say.

The veiled stranger listened and nodded at each item mentioned. “A goodly trade we shall have,” he spoke briefly. “I assume that you’ll be wanting the same items as previously requested?”

Lukas nodded, opening his mouth to repeat the orders from the merchants that he had received. However, before he could utter a word, there was a cry from one of the caves in the mountains. He turned his head, distracted.

Mountain cats and hyenas lived in the sparsely populated mountains, he knew, but that cry had sounded too human to be animal. There was talk that the entrance to the Underground city was from one of the caves in the mountains. No one knew. No one had ever seen the Underground city, not even him though he dealt with this same man on a regular basis.

The other man mimicked Lukas’ action, turning to the mountains. “They have expelled one from our ranks,” he spoke, a most regretful tone lacing his voice. The ends of his veil lifted slightly, blown by the wind. “He shall be left out to perish.”

It was not a suggestion- it was a statement. There was no place for outcasts for the Undergrounders.

“Peace be with his soul,” Lukas spoke with nary a sentiment for the abandoned boy. The other people could do whatever they liked with their own kind; it was none of his business. “Let us not delay each other any longer. Will you please lead on?”

“Certainly.”

Above head, there was the welcoming sound of thunder.