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     As Ulrika combed her long hair, she paused to lay her hand upon the scallop shell on her breast, its presence a reassuring promise of her reunion with Sebastianus. She and her escort had left Antioch weeks ago, but in the time since, she had been unsuccessful in finding her mother in Jerusalem. And so Ulrika had given orders to Syphax to take her to Babylon, where she would join Sebastianus's caravan.

     Her heart raced at the thought of seeing him again. When they had said farewell in Antioch, to follow their separate roads, Ulrika had not been prepared for the terrible feeling of emptiness that had filled her in the days that followed. As she had ridden in the covered carriage, in the escort of Syphax and his men, following an ancient road southward, an unaccustomed sadness had enveloped her. She had needed to tap into all her will power to keep from giving orders to turn back and join Sebastianus.

     She could not bear to be parted from him.

     She and her escort had left Jerusalem the day before and stopped for the night at the base of the hills that looked out upon a bleak, arid region of unending rock and sand. Their next stop was Jericho, from which they would take an ancient trade route across the desert to Babylon. Ulrika trembled with excitement. She had spent every waking moment thinking about Sebastianus, their last night together in Antioch, their passionate kiss. She would close her eyes and feel him again, his body, his power. His touch. His taste. In Babylon, Ulrika and Sebastianus would be free to love at last.

     And then Sebastianus will go to China while I search for Shalamandar and its crystal pools. My love and I will be reunited after that, of this I am sure.

     Stepping out of the tent, Ulrika was surprised to find, in the crisp pale dawn, a deserted campsite. She looked around. Syphax and his men were nowhere to be seen. Had they gone hunting, perhaps? Or in search of fuel for the fire? As sunlight broke over the ragged cliffs, illuminating the campsite, Ulrika saw that the horses and pack mules and tents were gone.

     Turning in a slow circle, she scanned the wilderness, the sharp wind in her face, and all she saw were barren cliffs and dun-colored hills. Golden rays of dawn were dissolving shadows in their path, leaving a tawny wilderness to stretch in all directions beneath a clear blue sky. There was little greenery, despite the spring equinox having just been celebrated. This barren land was populated with rocks and stones, boulders and sand, canyons and plateaus—but no people.

     Ulrika knew why the men had snuck off into the night: she had told Syphax she was out of money and that he and his men would only be compensated when they re-joined his employer's caravan. Ulrika knew the sort of men Syphax and his comrades were: men who followed the nearest coin. They had grumbled about going to China and falling off the edge of the earth. This would have been their chance to cut ties with Sebastianus Gallus and find safer and more profitable employment elsewhere. No doubt they had heard of more lucrative employment while they were in Jerusalem.

     At least, Ulrika saw with relief, they had not left her without provisions. At the doorway of the tent were a sack of lentils, a bag of bread, and a generous waterskin. And they had left one donkey, its tether tied to a rock while the beast munched on weeds.

     As the sun crested the hilltops, Ulrika took her bearings. Jericho lay a few miles to the northeast. Directly ahead, although she could not see it, lay the Sea of Salt, the terminus of the Jordan River. I will go east, she decided, and turn northward when I reach the sea. At Jericho I can join a caravan to Babylon.

     She decided she would leave the tent, as it was too cumbersome to dismantle, fold, and pack onto the donkey. The little creature would carry the food, water, and her possessions, and she would walk. But as Ulrika bent to pick up the sacks, she saw with dismay that they had been slit open, the contents scattered and covered in bird droppings. Ruined! The waterskin, too, had been cut. In alarm she saw animal prints in the sand, left by the paws of a giant cat—a lion or leopard. And the water had long since seeped into the earth.

     Which meant she was alone in the Judean wilderness without food or water.

     THE MORNING AIR WAS fresh and biting, the sky a deep blue with scattered white clouds. Ulrika led the donkey by its tether, her travel packs and medical box tied to its back. She picked her way around rocks and boulders, expecting the terrain to flatten soon and show more growth. Although it was spring, and rains had recently visited this region, the wilderness blossoms and grasses were already withering and drying up, leaving only dun-colored hills with deep ravines.

     With the sun in her eyes, Ulrika trekked steadily eastward, looking for signs of habitation, even if just a lone shepherd's tent. But as the sun climbed in the sky and the day grew warm, she encountered no other souls. A wild donkey fled from their path, and birds circled overhead. Ulrika kept her eye out for leopards and lions, for surely at her slow pace, she must appear easy prey.

     It was a desolate land, the barren, striated hills pocked with caves, like dovecotes, one of which had been the abode, long ago, of two women who lived in a cave with their father. Ulrika had heard the local legend of two sisters who were childless and without husbands, and who had conspired to get their father drunk, have sex with him, and thereby perpetuate the family line. The story went that they were successful in seducing their father, a man named Lot, and became pregnant with sons who went on to be patriarchs of new nations.

     Noon came and went. The sun began its descent toward the west as Ulrika pressed on through a region of limestone and chalk, dried vegetation and stones, and no water.

     Finally the brown, barren landscape flattened. Ulrika left the hills and ravines behind, and saw up ahead, in the near distance, the shimmer of pale blue water. The Sea of Salt.

     Although hungry and weary, Ulrika pressed on. There would be people there—food and rest.

     Shadows were growing long, the sun turning orange when she finally arrived at the shore. Ulrika stared at the strange shoreline that seemed layered with a fine, white ash. She had known this was not a freshwater lake, but a "dead" sea of salt, with no plants or fish. However, she had hoped to find drinkable water. But for as far as she could see, all along the salty shore thick with foul-smelling mineral deposits, there were no tents, no people, not even a lone camel. Which meant no fresh water.

     On the other side of the flat, glassy sea, on the far eastern shore, mountains rose, with no signs of towns or cities. Northward, to her left, the River Jordan flowed near the populous and prosperous city of Jericho—but that was miles away, too far for her to reach tonight. Southward, to her right, lay unknown territory. And behind her, westward, the rocky hills seemed to support no life.

     The shore of the sea was riddled with dangerous quicksand pits, hazardous tar pits and pools of asphalt that gave of an acrid stench. She dared not venture farther in such hostile terrain as night was falling.

     Ulrika scanned the hills for refuge. A cave, perhaps. She would search for a well or an underground spring.

     Suddenly, a chilling sound filled the desert silence. The wail of a jackal. A moment later, more wails rose to the darkening sky. Ulrika tried to determine their location. A pack of hungry jackals would not be shy about attacking a defenseless human.