The Emperor's troops had been so exhausted that the final watch had been unable to be vigilant. Therefore, it was easy for the band of men in lightweight desert clothes to overtake the imperial group. They had even done it without alerting anyone until it was too late.

The leader of the group, Metehan, held one of the men dressed in fine clothes at the point of his sword before he could waken. But the grey-eyed man's reaction was confusing when he realized that he was captured. Rather than be afraid, he seemed annoyed at one of the other men in his group. 'How odd!'

The other man, who was burly and in a general's uniform, also seemed relaxed enough to argue. The two men bickered back and forth until Metehan could take it no longer.

"Enough! Are you not the least bit worried that you have a sword at your throat?" he asked the man at his feet.

The grey-eyed man scanned the group briefly, barely turning his head against the sword. It seemed he was looking for someone in particular, but he did not let his gaze rest too long on any one person. Then he shrugged. "This is not even the worst thing that has happened to us in the past day, let alone week. I am all out of worry. Anyway, if you were going to kill us, you would have done it before we were awake."

Metehan was again struck by the man's courage. "You are a bunch of fools out here with no water, food or transportation. And you are filthy, though your clothes are very fine. I did not kill you because I am curious. Why are you out here?"

"Trust me, it was not our first choice," the general who was bickering earlier chimed in. The man had an easy smile, but Metehan needed to remain on his guard.

"We would be happy to explain, but the sun is quickly rising. As you pointed out, I am not dressed for this weather. Perhaps you know of some shade nearby?" the grey-eyed man's voice was humble. Metehan considered his words.

"We will get you somewhere more comfortable and then you will explain," he said at last.

The grey-eyed man relaxed slightly. "Thank you. My name is Devrim. I will answer for this group."

"I am Metehan," the leader of the desert people answered. "But do not thank me yet. Bring them!"

Metehan's men pulled out cloths laced with something that smelled very strong. Placing it over the captive's mouths and noses, they quickly fell asleep. Devrim instinctively looked toward a blue-eyed maiden before his eyes rolled back in his head and closed.

"Ah, so she is the one you want to protect. Very interesting," Metehan mused. His chieftain would be eager to know that information.

----------------------------

The ache in Devrim's head was profound as the drugs wore off, and he regained consciousness. His hands were tied in front of him, but he was sitting on a cushion leaning against Junayd. The soldier was already awake.

"Where are we?" Devrim asked as he straightened.

"Not sure. Maybe you should ask him." Junayd used his chin to point to the third man in what appeared to be a large tent.

The man sat on a cushion cross legged staring at them quietly. His lightweight, flowing robes were made of fine cloth and the scarf which he used to cover his head from the sun was now hanging from his neck. The aura from the man was strong and imposing, and Devrim was not sure he could match the man's presence even on his best day.

"I am Orhan, Chieftain of the people of the Drifting Dunes," the man announced. "And to answer your question, you are in my tent."

The Emperor nodded his head in recognition. Although the Orhan was imposing, the Chieftain did not seemed to be threatening them. Dervim decided that respectful acceptance of the situation was his best option. Of course he didn't have many options just now.

"I appreciate you bringing us into your home. We would have been sun scorched and dying without you." Devrim acknowledged. "Thank you for your hospitality."

Orthan held up his hand. "Do not thank me yet. I have not decided if you are a guest or problem just yet. Now, please tell me your name."

"I am Devrim."

"You are the Emperor," Orhan stated without a doubt.

Devrim glanced toward Junayd, who shrugged. He had not said anything to indicate their identities.

Orhan gave a soft chuckle. "Your subordinate did not give you away. Your clothing did. Dirty as you are, I would recognize that fabric anywhere. My wife designed and made it with her own hands. It is only sent to the royal family. You do not look like Her Majesty or the princess, and you are not young enough to be the prince. That only leaves you, Your Majesty."

Devrim looked down at his clothes. The pattern was unique, he had to admit, but he never considered its origin. "Your wife does beautiful work, Chieftain."

"I will tell her you said that." Orhan was pleased with the Emperor's gracious attitude. He had expected someone more haughty and was pleasantly surprised. "Why are you here?"

"We were chased by gnomes and the crumbling ground into the desert. Then a huge wave of sand pushed us into your area." Devrim explained.

"You are either crazy or telling the truth. No one would use that as their lie. What happened before you met the gnomes?" Orhan prodded.

The Emperor looked long and hard at the Chieftain. "By your question, I think you already know. My son, Alaron, has seized the throne, and we were forced to run from him."

It was a huge risk to admit the change of power, but if the Chieftain knew and Devrim lied, it would all be over anyway. Othan did not seem surprised. He stroked his chin.

"That is a problem. Do you seek our assistance?" The Chieftain raised his eyebrows in question.

"We would appreciate your assistance very much, but letting us pass through unhindered and pointing us toward water would be more help than we deserve. Safe passage is my humble request."

If they could leave peacefully, at least they had a chance of finding the rest of the imperial forces, if any of them were left. Devrim had no idea how many troops were under the Chieftain's control.

"I place my life in your hands." Devrim bowed his head briefly, but held the other man's gaze.

The Chieftian said nothing for a long time. His eyes, which were brown with a hint of gold around the irises' rims, seemed to be reading Devrim's soul. It was unnerving.

"While you are deciding what to do with us, may I inquire about the rest of our group?" The Emperor asked to break the tension. His face was full of genuine concern.

"Everyone is safe and unharmed." A ghost of a smile crossed Orhan as he studied the Emperor. "Your nature is very disarming. It is very much like a certain blue-eyed girl I met a short while ago." His knowing face caused both the "guests" to shake their heads.

"What did Mairwen do this time?" Devrim asked, not denying the girl's identity.

"She foxed her way out of the sleeping cloths and foxed her way into my good graces…" Orhan answered while putting his fist on his heart.

"That sounds about right," Junayd laughed.

Devrim nodded. He only wondered what his little girl had done this time to receive the approval of the Chieftain in so short a time.

———————-

(That morning)

Mairwen saw the cloths with the strong scent being placed over the mouths and noses of her allies. The men of the Dunes knocked out the strongest soldiers first, and so the princess easily faked being asleep like the rest before anyone got to her.

The Dunesmen bound the the hands of the strangers. Then they hoisted their unconscious captives on camelback in groups and began the trek back to their camp.

Mairwen was able to flex her wrists as they tied her up. It was a trick that Brinn had taught her more as a party trick, but perhaps the elf knew that is was a skill worth having. Once she was laid across the camel, Mairwen worked to free herself of the bonds. It did not take long before the ropes fell away.

The Princess peeked to gauge the situation. The captors' eyes were searching forward, and she carefully picked her way down the camel and toward the ground. The animal was huge and walked with a thudding, uneven gait. His lumbering was too much for her, and she was flung into the sand.

One of the men noticed her fall, but before he could react, she popped up and ran toward the front of the group. She was only on the third camel, so it was not a long walk.

"Lookout!" the Dunesman called.

Metehan, who was leading the group back to the Chieftain, turn and saw a beautiful young woman match his stride with a confident air.

"Where are you taking us?" the Princess asked calmly.

"You are not trying to run away," Metehan observed. "You people are very strange when captured."

"I will not leave these people behind and honestly, where would I go in this desert? Are you taking us to your mayor?" Mairwen kept her hands daintily in front of her to prove that she was no threat. Her posture interested the Dunesman greatly. Metehan got the impression that the girl was actually quite good with a weapon. Why else would she act so comfortably while he he his hand on his sword?

The men who had seen the girl run approached their commanding officer. Metehan stopped them. "I will speak with her," he said.

"But she will see where we live!" one protested.

"She didn't know that is where we are going until you told her. Now it is on your head!" Metehan dismissed the men back to their post. He offered the girl some water. "We have no mayor. We have a Chieftain."

"May I meet him?" Mairwen asked politely.

"You will meet him shortly, though I do not think he will be quite prepared for you." Metehan gave a half-smile.

The princess swallowed the water from the container. "You know," she said with her head tilted to one side, "I hear that often."