Chapter 2: Caravan of Ghosts

They departed at dawn aboard a sand skiff that Dara had procured through connections Khalil decided not to question. The vessel was a flat-bottomed craft fitted with triangular sails that caught the desert thermals, gliding across the dunes with surprising speed and almost no sound. Dara piloted while Khalil navigated, cross-referencing the midnight map with his own charts of the region. The discrepancies were unsettling. His charts showed nothing but empty wasteland for three hundred kilometers in every direction. The midnight map showed roads, settlements, and landmarks that had not existed for centuries. 'The map does not show the desert as it is,' he told Dara on the second evening. 'It shows the desert as it was. These settlements were buried by sandstorms hundreds of years ago.' 'Then we follow the ghosts,' she replied, adjusting the sails without looking up. 'Ghost roads are still roads.' She was right. Beneath the sand, the ancient roads provided a firm surface that the skiff could travel faster on, and Khalil learned to identify them by the subtle difference in how the dunes formed above them. They found the first buried settlement on the third day, its rooftops barely protruding from the sand like the backs of sleeping animals. Dara anchored the skiff and they climbed down to investigate. The buildings were remarkably preserved beneath their blanket of sand. They found pottery, tools, and scrolls written in the same ancient script that appeared on the map. Khalil unrolled one carefully and felt his breath catch. It was a census document listing the names of people who had lived in a city that the world had forgotten ever existed. 'These people were real,' he said softly. 'Meridian was real.' 'My employer has never doubted that,' Dara said. She was watching the horizon with a troubled expression. 'What worries me is that we are not the only ones following the ghost roads. There are tracks in the sand. Someone else is ahead of us.'