“Hoy, Etjole,” the swordsman prompted him. “Come on now, don’t let me win without a fight. I say it looks like a castle. What would you call it?” As they walked past, salt crystals crunching under their sandals, he studied the pale ramparts admiringly.
“I cannot argue with you this time, Simna. A castle or fortress of some kind. I could not imagine calling it anything else, because that is exactly what it looks like.”
“Then we are agreed.” Turning to his right, the swordsman started toward the silent formation. “Come on, bruther. Don’t you want to see what it looks like up close?”
“I am certain it looks the same at close range, except that individual crystals of salt will begin to stand out.”
Shaking his head, the swordsman continued toward the looming structure. “All this traveling in my company still hasn’t made you a more jolly companion. Go on, pass up the chance to study up close a fascinating phenomenon you’ll never see again.”
As always, Ehomba’s tone was unchanged, but his thoughts were churning fretfully. “Let me guess: You’ll catch up to me in a few minutes.”
“Depend on it, bruther.” Turning away, Simna continued blithely toward the salt castle, moonlight reflecting off the hilt of the sword he wore against his back.
In front of Ehomba, nothing moved on the lake bed. No pennants of gleaming salt waved in the clear, stark light. No white-faced figures emerged from the weathered hill to greet him. Except for the barely perceptible breeze, all was silent, and still.
Frowning, he pivoted to look back the way they had come. It was with considerable relief that he saw the reassuring oversized shape of Hunkapa Aub standing and waiting patiently not more than a few yards behind him.