By the fourth day, the first threads of our journey began to fray. The heat was sucking moisture out of wood and skin alike. The tuspaks groaned as they knelt for the midday rest. Their hides were covered with red dust, making them look more like oddly shaped dunes than animals.
The trouble had started earlier that morning. A crack shot through the air and the lead wagon lurched and tilted left, grinding to a halt. One of the main pulling straps had snapped.
I jumped down and ran to the front. Olen had beat me to it; he held the severed ends of the thick leather band. His face was red and angry.
"Rot?" I asked.
"Negligence," Olen replied. "Look at it."
He handed me the broken ends.
"This didn't just snap," he continued. "It must have been fraying for days. The oil is dry. It should have been caught. We're getting careless." To him, this was a deep moral failing.
It was to me too. Perhaps even a crime.
Olen yelled for a spare.
We had lost an hour in the morning sun replacing the harness. The water cost was high; men were sweating, and the tuskpaks were being exposed without progress.
When we finally stopped for the midday break, I retreated to review my documents in the shade. The quiet was soon broken by noise coming from near the water wagon.
I went over to find water dripping steadily into the unquenchable sand. The Quartermaster was staring at the same leak with a face pale as starlight. He was young and unusually meticulous.
Bastien stood over him, looking stiff and avoiding eye contact with anyone. "The check for the seals is supposed to be done everyday, Quartermaster."
"I always do the checks, Captain," the Quartermaster said as he wrung his hands. "I swear that I did it. It must have worked loose while we were underway."
"Heat and sand destroy everything in the Red Sand Sea," Olen said. He was crouched by the large tuspak leather supply bags. "If you don't keep the containers damp, the seams dry out and pull apart. It's a novice mistake."
"I swear that I dampened them as part of the procedures I did this morning," he protested. "I swear on the Sun! I do it every morning." He raised his palms toward the sun, a gesture of Epistoic oathmaking. For an Epistoic, to lie under oath before the sun was to invite the most terrible withering of joy, because deceit made one unfit to receive the sun's simple, honest pleasures.
As I watched the scene unfold, I saw what I was looking for. I wasn't sure if it was a crime or just an dispute, but it was an opportunity. Would the verdict be Green, Yellow, or Red? Or something I couldn't predict?
"Quartermaster," I said, staring intently at the young man. "Please come with me." All the men's eyes were on me, but none moved from their place.
Bastien, on the other hand, was quick. He stepped into my path, stiff as a board to block me. "With all respect, my Prince," he said. "Disciplinary matters fall under my responsibility. And as a safety issue, the King's word is law here and overrides yours."
He was challenging my role. As Second in Command, he was the backbone of the mission and, next to mine, his word was law. Overriding him publicly would risk the integrity of the command structure and undermine the very discipline we needed most right now.
Bastien then came close and whispered to me, "We don't need this, Elyan." He looked like he was near collapse from exhaustion after just four days of travel. The man could easily handle weeks without looking half this bad. "We need order. The men are tired, and their focus is slipping. I'll handle the punishment."
I pulled him close and whispered, "Your point is made, my friend. I just want a private discussion with him." I pushed Bastien away and spoke loudly, knowing the stakes. "You may handle the punishment, Captain Bastien. But I'm going to have a private talk first." My heart pounded. "Please stand aside." I hated to pull rank on him, but the success of the mission depended on data, and this was data that required collection, even if it turned out not to be useful.
Bastien's mouth tightened, and he inhaled sharply. For a long moment he didn't move. Then he stepped aside, stiff and wooden. "As you wish, my Prince."
The words carried the sharpness of a reprimand.
I led the trembling Quartermaster to my awning and sat him on a stool. "Wait here. Don't move. Don't look over your shoulder. I'm going to be over there," I gestured. "Don't respond even if it sounds like I'm talking to you. Wait until I come back."
I stood behind him, where he would not be able to see the stone. Fortunately the men were staying away. I pulled out the strange black stone and placed it on my desk.
My mind focused on the rules of my hypothesis. Brightness meant certainty; color meant fault.
"Is the Quartermaster guilty of negligence regarding the water loss?" I inquired silently in my mind. The stone sat silent and unchanging.
"Is the Quartermaster guilty of negligence regarding the water loss?" I asked again, this time aloud.
Again, nothing. Perhaps it was the wrong question.
"Is he responsible for the leak?" I asked aloud again.
This time something happened. A flicker. It was faint. Like the sight of smoke in a dark room. Almost no luminosity. Zero certainty and no color.
I tried again. "Did he lie about the morning procedures? "
The response was another faint swirl. Still no information, yet the stone was responding. Something was missing.
I came around and put one hand on him.
The Quartermaster trembled. "Am… am I free to go, Highness?"
"Not yet. Do not answer this question." I said.
He looked completely baffled by my behavior, asking questions in the third person which he was not expected to answer.
It was embarrassing for me too. But I had to try. One hand was on him and one hand was on the stone, but I kept the stone where he couldn't see it.
"Is this man guilty of negligence?" The stone swirled yet again, no differently.
I turned and let him see the stone. I gave it one last try. He had no idea about its purpose. He must have thought it was just a gem held by a very strange royal. "Is this man guilty of negligence?"
It flickered. Brighter this time, but still a dingy gray. No answer. Why? The stone reacted only when the Quartermaster was present and weakly then. Presence mattered, but wasn't enough.
"Highness?" The Quartermaster was asking for permission to leave.
"You may go," I whispered. "But check the containers again. Thoroughly."
He walked as fast as he could without running, like a thief fleeing from a city prefect.
I tried to arrange the data I had collected in my mind. No response at all when I questioned the stone alone. When I touched him but kept the stone hidden, a faint swirl. When he could see the stone, though he didn't understand it, the flicker was stronger.
The stone wasn't entirely based on the facts, then. It wasn't based on the accused. There was something about the context that was making the difference. I sat alone with the stone. Failed.
It was then that I was shaken back to the present by Bastien's appearance at the edge of the awning. He looked drained. "Well?" he asked flatly. "What do you want to do?"
I put the stone back in the pocket. "I learned nothing."
Bastien sighed and rubbed his eyes. "He's a good kid. An Epistoic. He wouldn't lie under the Sun. We're all just tired." He looked over our encampment. "I'm going to tighten the rotations, and I'll take the two first shifts myself." He swallowed, the Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "If you need to make an example to hold the line... start at the top."
I stared at him. This wasn't the Bastien I knew. Bastien was a man of steel and standards. If a strap broke, he found the man who failed to oil it and ensured they remembered. He didn't offer himself up as a sacrificial lamb for a subordinate's mistake. Not unless the mistake was actually his.
"We're not going to punish him, Bastien," I said softly. "But it looks like you haven't been sleeping, and that's not good for you or for our mission. Get some rest tonight."
"I sleep when we're safe," he snapped back. "And nothing is secure out here."
He didn't give me a chance to respond. He put his hand on his sword hilt as if he expected an attack from the endless dunes.
I watched him go. Olen had been right. Our standards were slipping. I had to be very careful about how I managed the situation until I figured out the root cause.
And until then, I had to understand why my Second in Command was driving the expedition into the ground.