Plains of Sand and Steel: Uncommon World Book Two by Alisha Klapheke

Author:Alisha Klapheke
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780998737935
Publisher: Alisha Klapheke
Published: 2017-06-15T22:00:00+00:00

17

SEREN

At the funeral on the training field, Seren’s people gathered into an enormous circle and hummed, a pulsing noise deep in their throats. Adem, Cansu, Erol, and Hossam lifted Meric’s wrapped body up the ladder set against the pyre’s thick stilts and settled it on the lahabshjara leaves and striped pillows. Tongues of Flame glittered like amber in sunlight around the ivory linen encasing Meric’s thin arms and legs. Tails of silk, a different color for each of the Empire’s noble clans, flickered in the breeze beneath the pyre, slowly beginning to smoke. Chieftains removed their yatagans from their sashes and set them, hilt first, on the ground around the pyre tower. Though Meric had never set foot on a battleground, as kyros and leader of the army, he would receive a warrior’s funeral.

The women of the high-caste—many who’d never accepted Seren because of how she talked to the low and middle-caste as equals—gathered into a smaller circle within the larger one. They took up the prepared buckets of oasis water. A few gave Seren kind, sad looks. Perhaps Seren’s part in defending the city had won them over.

“May the Fire bless you, Chosen,” one of snobby Qadira’s friends whispered, her face clean of any judgment. She seemed sincere.

Seren dipped her head in thanks and clutched the handle of her own bucket.

The water sloshed as the women took the traditional three steps, nine, three, pausing appropriately to say a quiet prayer as they continued toward the pyre’s base. They joined in on the humming with the rest of the city’s inhabitants. Seren raised the proper notes in the back of her throat, enjoying the feel of being a part of her people’s ritual. The humming filled her, calmed her, and strengthened her legs so she could keep on. As one, the women stopped. They poured the clean water into the dusty ground, watering the tiny purple flowers that grew there, and protecting the city from fire.

Varol, as a blood relative, received the lit torch of lahabshjara branches and began his brother’s ascent to the next life. More ka’ud burned around Meric’s body. Only a kyros's funeral could demand such a rare sacrifice. The flames leaped and strained toward the sun, the blue smoke like a great hand raising Meric up and up and up.

Seren had never loved him, but the thought of never seeing him again strangely cut her heart. She was glad for the moment when the rest of the city came close, tucking in together.

Ona came up, her hands clasped in front of her. Seren couldn’t tell whether Ona was ready to embrace her or run her through.

Meekra approached too, but she gave Seren and Ona space to whisper, her own eyes on the pyre and a chaotic look of anger and sadness on her face.

“Death is a thief,” Ona said very quietly. “It doesn’t ask permission. It always makes me feel cheated.” Her nostrils flared as she stared at the ground.

Seren set her bucket at her feet

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