as such, the heat was not as oppressive as it might have
been. It was merely dauntingly hot. The air was still and
windless, and the shallow sand clearly showed the tracks
of Jalwar and Folly.
It was a good thing, because the sand did not hold their
quarry’s spoor as well as damp soil, and Mudge had
increasing difficulty distinguishing it from the tracks of
desert dwellers as they started out across the plain.
“I ‘ope you remember that map well, mate.”
“This is the Timeful Desert, as I remember it.”
Mudge frowned. “I thought deserts were supposed to be
timeless, not timeful.”
“Don’t look at me. I didn’t name it.” He pointed
toward a low dune. “The only sure source of water is a
town in the middle of the desert called Redrock. The
desert’s not extensive, but it’s plenty big enough to kill us
if we lose our way.”
“That’s a comfortin’ thought to be settin’ out with.”
The otter looked up at Roseroar. “Any sign o’ our friends,
tall tail?”
Roseroar’s extraordinary eyesight scanned the horizon.
“Nothing but sand. Nothing moves.”
“Can’t say as ‘ow I blame it.” He kicked sand from his
boots.
By the morning of the next day the mountains had
receded far behind them. Jon-Tom busied himself by
searching for a suggestion of green, a hint of moisture. It
seemed impossible that the land could be utterly barren.
208
Alan Dean Foster
Even a stubby, tired cactus would have been a welcome
sight.
They saw nothing, which did not mean nothing existed
in the Timeful Desert. Only that if any life did survive, it
did not make itself known to the trio of travelers.