The Desert Prince
ACT II: THE TEACHER IN RAGS
Chapter Three: The Philosopher of Dust
“Water is never where you want it,” the voice said. “And truth seldom looks like what you expect.”
I turned, my hand moving instinctively to the hidden knife. On a low dune’s lee stood a man who could have been made of dusk itself, small and sun-leathered, with eyes too bright for his weathered age. He wore rags like…
