The high desert air tasted clean and pure, and the brilliant white stars nearly outshone the large moon and its small companion. Cheyne often marveled at the little moon-it had been an integral part of every ancient civilization he had studied. In Argive, each record of the moon's advent was the same, though. One night it hadn't been in the sky-the next night, it was, and it had been there ever since.
It just appeared there, no way of knowing how. Like me, he thought as he trudged up the dunes to the vault, where Muni leaned casually against the marble slab they had moved that morning. It lay in the same position, the plaited ropes in their original knots.
"I am glad you have returned safely from your adventure. My apologies, by the way, for the assassin, though you acquitted yourself admirably. I had my hands full with his three friends."
"You followed me?" Cheyne looked at him incredulously. Muni smiled broadly, his teeth showing very white in the darkness.
"No. I took a dead man home. On my way back, I saw your predicament." Muni held the ropes up and offered him one end, securing the other one around his own waist.
Cheyne did not move. Muni sighed.
"Cheyne. You come and go as you will. When our paths cross, it is my calling to assist if I may. A simple 'thank you' will suffice, my friend." Muni bowed deeply, as Almaazan man to man.
Cheyne was glad of the darkness. It covered his embarrassment. For the first time, Muni had just acknowledged him as an equal and he had nearly let his anger make him a fool. He returned the bow and took the rope. "You're not going down?"
"No. Kifran and I will stand guard up here. I will feed you buckets and empty the backfill. The only things likely to disturb you inside are the living vermin." He smiled.
Kifran, a large, bearded Sumifan, saluted Muni and