In the shadow of a cracked red sandstone bluff, the camp curled like an uncoiled whip against the desert gale.
Three low-slung awnings of patched camel hide were anchored to the bedrock with heavy iron pins.
Around the outer edge, a shallow trench had been dug by hand, filled with white, crystal-clear powder that gave off the sharp, bitter-salt smell of lye and bitter alum.
Lu Chen stepped down into the depression. Then, the emerald glass beads crunched beneath his boots.
Tink—tink.
Inside the nearest awning, a shadow twitched.
A dozen gaunt figures scrambled out from the canvas flaps, clutching crude weapons.
They brandished notched scythes, fire-hardened willow poles tipped with mountain sheep horns, and rusted butcher blades bound to broom handles with rawhide.
