The Storm: Irin Chronicles Book Six by Elizabeth Hunter

Author:Elizabeth Hunter [Hunter, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781941674178
Publisher: Elizabeth Hunter
Published: 2018-04-16T16:00:00+00:00

“You have more magic than you know,” Renata said. “And I can teach you to use it. I can teach you how to fight.”

Thawra’s chin lifted, and Renata no longer saw a frightened victim. She saw a woman who hoped.

Hope was powerful.

“I will learn,” Thawra rasped out. “I want to.”

Renata held her hand out to Thawra. “Then you are exactly where you need to be.”

Renata watched the family that night at dinner. Max had made a stew he’d learned from his uncle, a typical warrior’s meal with boiled meat and potatoes and root vegetables. It was perfect for dinner, and the little family wolfed it down. Renata had peeked at their stores. They’d been existing on canned meats and beans and flour they’d probably scavenged from the house. Though all of them were thinner than they ought to have been, Zana was nearly gaunt. It was obvious he’d been going without food so Thawra and Evin could eat.

“What did you do?” Renata asked quietly as they were finishing their food. It was the first time she’d spoken to Zana since she’d called him a monster and tried to kill him. “Before the war. Back in Damascus. What was your profession?”

He smiled a little. “I was a carpenter. I worked for myself, which let me avoid most people.”

Grigori, like Irin scribes, could not sustain contact with humans without draining them of their life force. But while Irin scribes had magic to help their control, Grigori were given no such knowledge by their angelic fathers.

“Did you do some work on the porch?” Max asked casually. “Over on the east side? I noticed some of the wood was different.”

“I did,” Zana said. “I found some lumber in the barn last summer and decided to replace a few of the railings.” He glanced at Renata warily. “I didn’t think anyone would mind. They were loose. I didn’t want anyone to fall. And we’d taken some food from storage in the house.”

“It’s fine,” Renata said absently. “Thank you for fixing it.”

“You’re most welcome.” Zana reached over and used his napkin to wipe Evin’s cheek. “Drink all your milk, bug.”

“It tastes funny,” Evin whispered.

“It’s different because it’s fresh,” Zana said. “But fresh is better. It will make you strong.”

Max reached for Renata’s hand under the table.

Thawra tapped the table and signed, Zana is very gifted. He was more than a carpenter. He was an artist. He sold a table for one hundred forty thousand pounds once.

“What was that?” Max asked. Renata translated for him.

Zana laughed ruefully. “It’s a good thing I changed our money to gold. That much in Syrian pounds wouldn’t even buy the lumber for that table anymore.”

Max asked, “Where you able to bring some money out?”

Zana nodded. “I have some savings. I always kept gold. I’ve lived too long not to know how quickly things can change. But we have no papers, and I’m sure any gold I exchange would not be the correct value on the… informal market. So I’ve tried to save as much as possible.

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