Menin Warriors by Rayann Marse

Author:Rayann Marse
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Steamy eReads
Published: 2021-04-10T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Aurora was under the table, doing her best to cheer Ignu up, when a knock sounded at the door. Ignu made a wordless sound, a grunt that was evidently interpreted as assent; the door opened, and two servant males walked in, bowing to Ignu and then bowing a second time when Aurora poked her head out.

"I will come," Ignu said. "Let me finish my meal."

But he had no plate in front of him. The servants gave each other looks of confusion, but Aurora didn't see that; she was already back to work.

Ignu did come, first in her mouth and then out the door with the servants. Aurora hopped on his back and rode along. When Menin walked at their natural speed, as they did now, not even her long legs could keep up.

Apparently, their destination was on the opposite side of the ship. At one point they even took an elevator, a tube that shot up a shaft on a tide of air and then somehow levitated in place to let them off. Probably by magnetism, if Aurora had to guess.

And they arrived at the doors to the Mindseat. They were shut and guarded, and it was easy to tell that something important stood beyond them. They were jet black, at least on this side, but seemed to absorb and hold the light, releasing it in bursts of sparkling luster. The handles were of quartz or something similar, veined with ribbons and streaks of color. As they approached, a servant dashed out of a side corridor and stood poised with handfuls of cloth squares. He distributed these to Ignu and the other servants. They used them to grasp the door handles, protecting them from oils and dirt.

Inside, a ceiling loomed high above, laden with slabs of that same black material. Between the slabs, carved and painted frescoes leapt out in three dimensions, like inverted statues. Aurora stared up at them, at these reclining and hanging shapes of Menin in various theatrical, exaggerated poses. Tales from history or mythology, things that might have happened in the deep past but whose details had been exaggerated to a degree of romance and elegance seldom seen in actual battle.

Though the ceiling must have been fifty or sixty feet high, the actual platform of the Mindseat nearly reached it. A huge set of stairs led up to the chairs where a group of elderly Menin sat speaking to one another. They used normal voices, but their words echoed and carried far in the acoustics of the room. Aurora caught their inflections and syllables, but her translator did not.

The servants accompanied them to the base of steps then saw their way out. The doors were shut behind them; the stoic guards went back to their places.

One of the elders finally broke away from the conversing group and came to the edge of the platform. Looking down the many steps, he spoke; his voice boomed through the room, filling it to every corner. This time, it was easily translated.

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