The thing you can’t risk is the navigator. Not in the desert. Igo knew the tales of parties that strayed from the worn stone paths that cut through the shifting sands. He sat huddled around fires where the echoes of ghosts would reach out from the flames as if to hold on to their direction.

You can’t lose the navigator in the desert.

But there’s nothing so potent a curse as the fervent hope that something won’t happen. So on the sixth day as they crossed under the orange tinted moon that marked their storybook trail, fate intervened.

Out in the embrace of the sands, Igo knew the others hadn’t found his key yet. The reason he begged them to journey out here. The reward of a sand dragon hardly countered the risk. Too smart by half, a sand dragon can go months without a proper meal. Igo’s mentor, Galith, had told Igo about a sand dragon that tracked a man for three years as he crossed the sands. A horrible fear to face a creature more patient than yourself— horrible still to face something smarter. But the heft of glory weighed heavier on souls then the weight of coin, so Igo didn’t enter the sands alone. Hardly anyone ever did.

Sand dragon for a sky boat— even the gods would have laughed at that deal. Igo wasn’t looking to barter, so he loaded up crates he kept covered from the burning winds and away from the others. Wouldn’t do if the other men got jumpy.

Blacksmiths know how to find the edges to all things. Even those that don’t want to be found. The ones others believe impossible to be found. They’re not unlike sculptors, Igo thought. They saw the lines in the mass. Revelation to those that learned to see. Or for those born with the gift, as Igo had been. As his mother before him and back through their line. It’s how his family found the stone road through the heart of the sands. It’s why he couldn’t stop now. Not when he needed to see beyond the edge of the lines. Beyond the edge of the sands and what his people believed to be endless.