Servants of the Sands by Leona Wisoker

Author:Leona Wisoker
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, fantasy, epic fantasy, political intrigue, desert, desert worlds
Publisher: ReAnimus Press

Chapter 56

Aerthraim Fortress was laid out and designed very differently than any other desert Fortress. Where Darden, Scratha, Sessin and F’Heing all circled their rooms around a central meeting point—usually the teuthin—Aerthraim Family chose to spread out more sideways than square. The mahadrae’s rooms were at the southernmost, and widest, end, past which sheer cliffs to three sides dropped to a distinctly hostile set of reefs far below. The loremasters’ tower stood midway along and to one side, set deep into an equally imposing rise. Their rooms went almost as far beneath the surface as above.

A steady curve to the structural line brought the main gates to face northeast. Once through the gates, rooms spread out to left and right, providing guest quarters, dining hall, kitchens, bathing areas, meeting rooms, gardens—everything a guest might need or desire. The loremasters’ tower served as the midpoint, where public became private. Outsiders could, occasionally, visit the Aerthraim loremasters, but never stepped past that line.

Every inch of the public area was plainly, unabashedly, built of aenstone blocks.

Azni hadn’t been in the least surprised, after her audience with the loremaster, to be escorted to one of the lesser front guest rooms. Neither was she surprised when she was led, not into the deeper fortress, but to one of the public casual meeting rooms. The thick ceiling and slanted roof allowed conversation to proceed without having to shout over the roar of even the most torrential rains.

The sight of Irrio lounging on a large green sitting cushion beside the mahadrae, however, stopped her a step past the archway. She caught herself before blurting out a vastly unwise question.

He regarded her with sardonic amusement as he said, “Lord Darden. You certainly slept long enough.”

Azni drew in a steadying breath and turned her attention to the mahadrae as Kallaisin rose to her feet.

“Azni.” Kallaisin spread her arms, smiling beatifically. “Welcome home.”

Azni took a deliberate survey of the woman, not bothering to hide her suspicion. Kallaisin had grown thinner since their last meeting, her dark hair cropped short and braided back in tight rows. She’d developed fine lines around eyes and mouth, her nails were cut almost to the quick; and her clothes, while still fine, displayed a simpler design and cut than she’d favored before her ascension to mahadrae.

Kallaisin laughed and turned in place, pale skirt swirling; raised her arms, lowered them, then faced Azni again, still smiling. “No longer beautiful, either of us; but there are other things more important than beauty, aren’t there?”

Azni bowed, her jaw tight against several thoroughly inadvisable responses. “Mahadrae,” she said as she straightened. “I’m honored by your presence.”

“I’m not in the least honored by yours,” Kallaisin said lightly. “Have a seat, Azni.” She pointed to a stack of sitting cushions. “There’s a blue one. You always liked blue, if I recall. Or was it yellow? It’s been so long.”

Azni set her teeth together, chose a red cushion, and settled some distance from Irrio. He remained sprawled comfortably, watching her with unconcealed amusement.

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