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Gage was aware of the looks people were giving. The silent wave of whispers that followed Gage and his escort. “So, Somba, you actually learned English? Instead of getting a tab?” Gage ventured.

The elf actually smiled. “Of course. Tabs are made by the magic of others. Kumdahari magic is steeped in tradition. There are those who use them, but it is out of necessity.”

“Have the kumdahari been taking the time to learn the languages of others then?” Gage eyed the glimpses of the spire through the gaps of the awnings as they approached.

Somba shook his head, “No. Again, some have done so for ease. Our tribe was deep in the deserts of our home. We knew of other elves through other tribes, but we were remote. When we had visitors, they were few and easily dealt with by a single individual to interact with. Now we are surrounded by numbers that rival those of our own tribe. It has strained our resources and our hospitality.”

Gage nodded along, feeling some sympathy for the kumdahari. “I can’t say that this transition has been easy on anyone.” As they entered the space around the spire. “Since I am the only human, I can’t imagine there was much need to learn English. Thank you for taking the time. Will you be translating for the conversation?”

“No. I am needed elsewhere.” Somba hesitated as he stopped the group just outside the massive stone spire. “Besides, it will not be necessary, will it?” He finished as Gage leaned back to look up at it, as this was the closest he had ever been. Before Gage could speak, Somba continued, “Please, follow Bacabar. He will take you where you need to go.” With that Somba turned to leave.

As he strode away over the sands, Gage called out after him. “Wait, I don’t have my… translation…” He trailed off and let out a sigh as Somba disappeared under the awnings. Gage turned back to the other guard that had been walking with them. “Bacabar?”

The kumdahari snorted, his face stern as he gestured for Gage to follow him. He then turned and trotted into the spire. Gage paused only for a moment and muttered to himself, “Okay, not as friendly.” Before he followed the elf into the stone.

As Gage stepped in, he paused to let his eyes readjust to the sudden lack of light. He blinked and looked about, surprise taking him. The entire first level of the spire was very open. Thick stone columns connected the floor to ceiling, holding up the entirety of the stone spire. It was cool and dry the moment he crossed under the stone spire. Up many of the columns there were stairs cut into the stone. A few even disappeared into the depths.

Gage had to pick up his pace to catch up to Bacabar. His guide or guard, perhaps both, lead him up a set of stairs. And another. And another. At first Gage marveled at each floor. The stairs and paths lead not only through the stone, but around the outside of the spire as well. These paths led to carefully tended gardens and small courtyards that Gage was sure were surrounded by the actual homes of the kumdahari. The interior spaces seemed to be for social purposes and a way to stay out of the sun.

Heights were not usually a problem for Gage. He had done some rock climbing and mountainous hikes after moving to southeast Utah. He loved doing them as much as he had loved rafting and even the heat. Just like it was different being in a desert of intense heat with nothing around, the height was quite another thing when you were on the side of the tallest thing for days in any direction.

Gage was panting by the time Bacabar showed him into a small courtyard. It was different from the others they had passed. While they had been more practical, this one was almost opulent. The courtyard had an outer walkway and an inner sitting area, separated by a lined garden. The walkway met the entrances to various rooms cut into the stone of the spire, while the sitting area was covered by an awning. The awning was the color our of sand, which contrasted with the dark stone of the spire.

Bacabar showed Gage into the inner courtyard and gestured for him to sit. There were ornate cushions surrounding the edge. On the left was a low table while on the right was a fountain. An actual fountain bubbled away. Right down the middle between the two was a walkway that led across the courtyard to a detailed entryway.

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Gage looked around and saw no one. Taking a deep breath, he moved over and sat at the table. Almost as soon as he sat, two kumdahari women came out of one of the side rooms. They wore what reminded Gage of a kaftan, a very colorful and patterned dress. Each had hair braided and bundled up into an intricate bun. One set a cup down in front of Gage, while the other poured water into the cup from the tall and narrow jug she carried. Then they both left before Gage could say a word.

Gage stared in shock at the cup of water. The settlement below either used only as much water as they needed or used their water to make broths. With the broths they could pack in more nutrients and everything else a body needs while also hydrating them. It was a careful balance between the two that kept most people going. This was extravagance.

As Gage struggled to gather a coherent thought, movement caught his attention. From the detailed doorway at the end of the courtyard stepped a man. The same kumdahari man who had delivered the speech in the bazaar almost two months ago. Gage had heard of him speaking to the masses a few times since but had not seen or heard any of it himself. The elf wore a white wrap, like a sarong, about his waist that nearly touched the ground. His shirt looked like a tunic made of gold. It glimmered in the light as he moved across the walkway and into the courtyard.

The kumdahari’s gaze fixed onto Gage and seemed to appraise him. His eyes were flat and neutral, his face expressionless. Gage made to stand, but the elf cut him off with a wave of his hand. As Gage reseated himself, the Son of Sand sat at the far end of the table. The Son snapped his fingers, and from the same side room the water bearers had come from, came a small line of people. Each carried a tray of food.

It smelled delicious, almost on par with Rosehip’s cooking. Despite himself, Gage’s mouth began to salivate. He watched as a wide variety of food was set along the length of the table. Meats, greens, grains, and breads were all placed down. The smell of each dish filled the small awning-covered area.

When Gage opened his mouth to speak as the servers disappeared, the Son raised his hand once more to cut him off. Perhaps he doesn’t actually speak English, like Somba said. How are we supposed to have our conversation then? Is there actually going to be conversation? Or is he just showing off? Gage grumbled mentally to himself. The Son closed his eyes for a moment and Gage could see his lips moving. When the Son opened his eyes, he gestured for Gage to eat.

Without waiting for him, the Son began to pick food off the many plates and line a plate for himself. Gage let out a sigh and followed suit. The food truly did look delicious, but it had been so long since Gage had eaten a full, solid meal. He followed the Son’s example and used his hands. Grabbing some rice and meat, a few vegetables and… tubers? I think that’s a tuber… I think. Compared to the Son’s plate, Gage’s looked rather sparce.

With another gesture from the Son, the two began to eat. They both ate slowly and steadily, savoring the food and taking their time with it. It was truly delicious. Very little of it was anything he recognized from out in the settlement. Instead, Gage made the assumption that this was traditional kumdahari cooking.

After Gage had eaten his fill, which was not nearly as much as he wanted to, he settled back onto his cushion and sipped on his water. For a short while his eyes wandered around the small courtyard before settling on the Son of Sand. It was an odd title and from what he gathered it was not an official one of the kumdahari. The Respected was generally the only one with an official position as something of a high priest or priestess and a village head combined together.

The Son of Sand was more an impromptu faction head that had developed among the Akalahari tribe. He represented those who wanted to isolate themselves away and cast off the refugees, leaving them to the desert. The Respected, as the official head of the village, wanted to keep with the tradition of generosity that their ancestors had been known for. It was this divide over what to do with the tribe’s resources that the two seemed to contend the most over.

Since the settlers had started being able to contribute fairly consistently, it had greatly eased the tensions over resources. Water alone, being the major concern. Gage had heard from one of the few gardeners allowed into the spire of a well that was the source of the water. The well reached down, far into the earth, to a sort of reservoir. But since everything had been changed about when the worlds merged, no one knew if it was as large as it had once been, or if it had any further source feeding into it.

If there was nothing feeding the reservoir and if no rain ever came, an increasing concern as time went on, then the fear was that the water would run out sooner rather than later. It was with this topic that the Son of Sand seemed to be drawing more and more support from his fellow kumdahari.

Gage was pulled from his thoughts as the servers reappeared. Quickly, they whisked the plates of food away to disappear into the depths of the spire once more. Gage took a deep breath and looked up to the Son of Sand.

The cup slipped from his hand and clattered against the table, spilling its contents. Hovering over the Son of Sands shoulder was an archon orb of deep, purple light. “Now, Kin, it is time for us to talk.”