Darian studied the nomad. The eyes, dark and ancient, did not hold the calculating avarice of a Roman, but the practical wisdom of the wilderness. He had vowed to trust no one, but he also knew the desert would kill him before Rome's legions found him. He needed this guidance.
"I seek passage to the deepest oases, where the Senator's reach is only a desperate rumor," Darian said, his voice measured. "The Roman I ran from is a noble named Aurelian. His father is a Senator who controls much of Alexandria's port. I am hunted by them. If I accept your guidance, what is your price, Sentinel?"
The nomad remained still for a long moment, the silence broken only by the gentle snort of the resting camels.
"My people are the Akkadian, and we recognize Rome for the disease it is," the nomad finally replied. "They poison the coast and bleed the interior. We do not take Roman coin. My price is not gold, desert walker."
The nomad then pulled back a fold of the heavy cloth, revealing a face deeply tanned and etched with fine lines, belonging to a woman with a strong, severe jaw and eyes that missed nothing. Her name was Ashara.
"My price is information," Ashara continued, her gaze direct and challenging. "Your magic—the shadow you carry—is of an ancient lineage, a power Rome fears and tries to eradicate. You struck a blow against them in the capital. We want to know how that was achieved, and what your true intentions are for the power you wield. Rome will send others like Aurelian to find you. We will offer you passage, protection, and the chance to replenish the fire in your soul, but in return, you must share the full scope of your schemes against the Senate."
She stepped toward him, the spear point lowering to the sand. "Do not lie. The desert exposes lies, and if you betray us, it will bury you without complaint. Will you walk with the Akkadian, and share the truth of the shadows?"
Darian felt the pressure of the moment. This was the first major test of his vow of mistrust. He was trading dependence on a false lover for dependence on a ruthless tribe. But Ashara offered what Aurelian never could: sanctuary and the means to master his dangerous magic.
"I will walk with you, Ashara of the Akkadian," Darian agreed, giving his allegiance not to a person, but to a shared enmity. "My intention is simple: retribution. I will teach you the political weaknesses of Senator Valerius, and I will show you how to blind the Roman eye with shadows. But know this: I trust only the cold darkness I carry, and I will serve no master but the path to vengeance."
Ashara gave a curt nod, a faint acknowledgment of his defiance and his honesty. "The wise only trust the desert, Darian. Now, the sun is rising and the Roman patrols ride with the morning heat. You have an hour to rest and share my water. Then we move. The first lesson of the rogue's path is this: Do not stop running until you reach ground that your enemy cannot hold."