The Doors at Dusk and Dawn: A Shattered Sands Novella by Beaulieu Bradley P

Author:Beaulieu, Bradley P. [Beaulieu, Bradley P.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy
Goodreads: 36239368
Publisher: Quillings Literary
Published: 2017-10-10T06:00:00+00:00

❖ ❖ ❖

Devorah watched from afar as the celebration for the traverse’s second contest was winding down. Leorah and Kirhan were drinking together, telling tales by the fire with many of the other riders, including Derya, who lay nearby, her broken leg propped up as she sipped from a flask the physic had given her. It was a restorative, but it seemed to be making her just as drunk as the rest of the gathering.

Devorah wanted to speak to Leorah—about all that had happened in Sukru’s tent, about the amethyst’s supposed abilities, about the second ring—but she wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. There were more questions that needed answering first. So while it might not have been the perfect time to speak with Leorah, it did seem the perfect time to find some of those answers. Everyone was occupied with someone, including Şelal and Armesh, who were busy speaking with the other shaikhs, and would be for some time.

When a new song was picked up by a rebab, a lay of Bahri Al’sir, a pair of flutes and a dozen drums joined in, and all those around the fires lifted their voices in song. Devorah took the opportunity to lose herself in the darkness. She’d not gone a dozen steps, however, when a hand landed on her shoulder.

She turned to find Leorah standing there, looking confused, perhaps hurt. “Where are you going?”

Devorah held herself around the middle, made herself small as she motioned to the gathering behind her. “It’s very loud.”

“It’s a celebration,” Leorah said, “for my victory.”

“I know, but the noise. It’s creeping into my bones. I’m starting to itch from it.”

Leorah looked crestfallen, like she had when they were children. She was so used to getting into trouble she’d always expected extra helpings of praise when she managed to do something to be proud of. “Aren’t you happy for me?”

Devorah realized how unkind she was being. What Leorah had done was an incredible accomplishment.

She took Leorah into her arms. “Of course I’m happy for you. What you did today I could never have done, not in a thousand years.”

Leorah hugged her back, then pulled away. “Then join us! Come sit by the fire and sing!”

Devorah shook her head. “It really is too much for me. But we’ll celebrate another time, yes? We’ll go into the desert and share hummus and olives and flatbread, like we used to.”

Leorah opened her mouth to object, but then stopped herself. She nodded once, smiling. “I’d like that.” After placing a quick kiss on Devorah’s cheek, she was back at the fire, sitting by Kirhan’s side, nuzzling into him and raising her glass of silver araq as they hit the refrain.

Devorah left and wandered between the tents. When she was certain she wasn’t being followed, she went to the largest: Şelal’s. A guard was posted, but it was only Old Khyrn, who hated revels just as much as Devorah did. He was sitting in a folding chair, slumped—awake, but close to nodding off.

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