Sharani series Box Set

by Kevin L. Nielsen

  Talha nodded, not looking at Lhaurel. She gestured and one of the priestesses appeared at her side in an instant.

  “Tell the Captain to make ready for the ship’s arrival. The tide will be on our side again before evening and I wish to be at sea tonight. I’ve been away from Estrelar for far too long and I do not wish to delay it any longer than absolutely necessary.”

  The priestess nodded and scurried away. Talha turned back to Lhaurel.

  “A ship is a vessel which travels across the water,” Talha said, standing and brushing off her clothes while a priestess collected her writing tools and book. “This particular vessel was commissioned from one of the Great Houses—House Kelkott, I believe.” Talha’s face took on a pensive look for a moment and she tapped a finger to her lips. “That reminds me, there are protocols we must discuss before it arrives.”

  Lhaurel’s mind spun with the thought of a vessel travelling across such a massive expanse of water, but she tried to keep it out of her expression as she followed Talha away from the wagons. Lhaurel leaned a bit on her staff as she walked.

  “When the ship arrives, there will be a lot of activity here on shore,” Talha began, her expression serious enough that Lhaurel gave the woman her full attention. “You are not to participate in it. You will remain by my side. You will remain silent at all times, not just as we board, but also for the entire time we are aboard ship.” Lhaurel’s lip formed a thin line and she half opened her mouth to ask a question, but Talha’s eyes flashed and Lhaurel closed it again.

  “You will not question me, nor speak to anyone but me unless I have given you leave to speak. Only speak the Orinai tongue and not this barbarous slave dialect we’re using now. You will wear the clothing I instruct you to wear and you will carry your staff with you at all times. Is this understood?”

  Lhaurel hesitated for a moment, trying to decide what sort of an answer she was supposed to provide or if she was going to try and ask a question anyway. She wanted to resist—the thought of simply following along without being able to interact left Lhaurel’s skin crawling with unease—but the hard lines of Talha’s stony expression stopped her.

  “Yes, Talha.”

  Talha nodded. “You should address me as Sister.”

  “Yes, Sister.” A memory tugged at the back of Lhaurel’s mind, a memory of calling other women ‘sisters’ who had no real relation to her. That had been the tradition back in the Sidena. Lhaurel shook her head, wondering if that too was something that had been carried down from the ancient past.

  “What?” Talha’s voice snapped like a whip.

  “Just memories, Sister,” Lhaurel said. “And questions. Always questions.”

  Talha nodded curtly, the sharp gesture softened by the small half-smile on her lips.

  “Good. It is only through questions that you learn. Prudent questions, that is. Now, it’s time we started acting our part as Sisters. Do not speak from here on out unless directly bidden.”

  Lhaurel sighed, but nodded. More and more, Talha reminded Lhaurel of Khari and the way the short, fiery woman had treated her when trying to break her. Lhaurel suppressed the small flush of irritation that crept up in the back of her mind at the reminder. Wasn’t once enough?

  “Good.” Talha gestured back toward the wagons. “There are clothes for you in your wagon. Put them on and wait down by the water where you were.”

  Lhaurel ground her teeth together behind closed lips, but did as bidden.

  The clothes were oddly reminiscent of the Roterralar mystic robes. A tight, white shirt and light brown leggings that hugged Lhaurel’s form went underneath a pure white half-robe. At least, that’s how Lhaurel thought of it. The top was as tight as the undershirt, with sleeves that extended down to her wrists. The bodice laced snugly from the middle of her chest down across her stomach, but the rest of the garment—which extended all the way down to the ground—was split at the front and swept down to either side, exposing her legs and allowing her free movement as she walked back to the water’s edge. A blue belt of worked leather or a similar material fastened around her waist. Not a shufari, but it served the same purpose.

  Over the next hour, the blot on the horizon grew until Lhaurel could make out its vague shape. It seemed to be divided almost in two, the upper half a strange pattern of white and the bottom a thick dark shape with space in between the two halves. As it drew closer, Lhaurel was able to see a few wooden pillars, so massive as to almost be unbelievable, between the white billowing parts of the ship. As the ship neared, Lhaurel was able to see that ropes and lines stretched from the pillars and the crossbeams and the whitish parts were actually giant pieces of cloth or canvas tied to the upright beams which came out of the ship. The main wooden section sat in the water and a number of indistinguishable people scurried about it.

  On shore, priestesses and soldiers quickly broke down the wagons and set about placing all of Talha’s possessions into wooden boxes and piling them near the shore. Lhaurel didn’t have any possessions other than her staff, but her wagon was also broken down and the contents placed in a separate pile. Lhaurel once again marveled at the sheer amount of wood here outside the Sharani Desert. Between the ship fast approaching and the wooden crates, it was more wood than Lhaurel had ever seen in one place before.

  Lhaurel watched it all mutely, lost in her own overwhelmed thoughts. Talha stood on the other side of the bustling activity, mutely leaning on her own staff, garbed in the white half-robes Lhaurel also now wore.

  After a time, the ship turned in the water, exposing just how long and wide it was. For a moment, Lhaurel wondered if something had gone wrong and the ship was preparing to leave, then she let out a small gasp as a rope with a metal hook at the end was thrown off the side of the ship to splash into the water below and the ship slowed to a stop. Lhaurel brought a hand to her lips and gave a furtive look around her, but no one seemed to have noticed her small outburst.

  The figures on the ship lowered several smaller vessels over the side. Several figures jumped into them as they were lowered down toward the water while other men clambered down once the vessels touched the surface. Lhaurel watched in openmouthed awe as the figures in the vessel pulled out some long pieces of wood and began steering the vessels away from the larger ship and toward the shore.

  “Close your mouth,” Talha hissed in a whisper, walking up alongside Lhaurel.

  Lhaurel jumped, but snapped her mouth shut.

  It was only after a long moment that Lhaurel realized Talha had spoken in the Orinai tongue. Lhaurel frowned slightly, lips pursed in confusion. She’d only been learning the language for a few days. How had she recognized what Talha was saying?

  A memory tickled at the back of Lhaurel’s mind, but it slipped away before Lhaurel could turn her full attention to it.

  A half dozen soldiers in red armor filed in around Talha and Lhaurel, standing at attention. They carried long spears and wore swords belted at their waists. Lhaurel didn’t recognize them, but assumed they must have been with the other soldiers she’d known had been around their wagon, even when she hadn’t seen them.

  The little wooden vessels came closer and Lhaurel was able to make out the men in them. Their skin bore a weathered and tanned look like the warriors of the Rahuli, though these men were taller and looked more like the Orinai soldiers than the priestesses and other servants. Lhaurel wished she could ask about that, or anything at all, in all honesty, but she retained her silence. Though the larger part of her wanted to rebel, she knew Talha’s power and also remembered that the safety of her people hinged on her obedience. For now, at least.

  The little vessels thumped onto the shore and some of the men jumped out into the rolling waves and dragged them higher up the sand. Another man leapt out once his vessel was clear of the waves. He wore a large hat, a dark overshirt with no sleeves, and boots covered in golden buckles that came almost up to his knees. He strode up to Talha and Lhaurel and swept his hat off his head before folding into an elegant b
ow. Behind him, some of the other men leapt out of the vessels and started grabbing crates.

  “Honored Sisters,” the man said in the Orinai tongue, though he kept his eyes fixed on the ground. “I am humbled to have you aboard my vessel.”

  Again, Lhaurel was amazed to realize she understood it. Talha cleared her throat to reply. Lhaurel focused her attention on the woman.

  Talha spoke, but Lhaurel didn’t understand a word of it.

  Confused, Lhaurel frowned and opened her mouth without thinking, then snapped it shut as soon as she realized what she was doing. The man before them licked his lips and shifted his head in Lhaurel’s direction, though he didn’t meet her gaze. He said something Lhaurel didn’t understand.

  What was going on?

  Talha made a curt gesture and said something short to the man. He bowed again, flourishing his hat, and then walked back to the small vessel where several of the other men were now waiting alongside the craft.

  “Keep your face still,” Talha hissed, pitching her voice so low and quiet that only Lhaurel could hear. “Don’t draw attention to yourself.”

  Lhaurel swallowed and tried to blank her expression, but it was difficult amid the myriad thoughts and questions jostling together in her mind. She could feel the edges of a headache threatening at the base of her skull, but she ignored it, drawing on her own stubbornness to blank her face and stand upright.

  Talha moved toward the small vessel and Lhaurel followed. The soldiers moved forward on either side of them, the lead guards running forward to offer their arms and, in Lhaurel’s case, a knee on which to stand to get into the vessel. Talha gave her a subtle nod toward one of the benches that crossed the bottom of the craft and Lhaurel took a seat, gritting her teeth as the vessel rocked a little in response to her movement.

  “Let’s be off, Captain,” Talha said.

  Lhaurel looked over at Talha, forcing her expression to remain calm, and leaned against her upraised staff. Talha didn’t seem to notice. The hat wearer—the captain, Lhaurel assumed—said something in return, but Lhaurel didn’t catch it.

  Her teeth ground together. What was going on?

  Several more men piled into the craft and grabbed the long pieces of wood with widened ends, dipping them into the water while those still on the sand pushed it back into the waves.

  The boat started rocking. Lhaurel fought down a sudden panic. The thought of falling into the water below without the protection of her powers to aid her left Lhaurel’s mouth dry with fear.

  Talha’s face remained calm and impassive.

  After a moment of intense concentration, Lhaurel oriented herself to the pattern of the movement and her stomach and nerves calmed. She focused on the retreating shoreline, watching the outline of mountains in the far distance from which the plume of smoke could still be faintly seen slowly shrink away. Before long, Lhaurel heard the sound of wood hitting wood and shouts from above. They’d reached the ship.

  The next few minutes passed in a blur of activity. The smaller vessel was hauled up onto the ship. Lhaurel had to force herself to remain calm through the process, though it left her knuckles white against her staff and she was sure her expression betrayed her more than once. When they reached the top of the ship, a half dozen men scurried about clearing a path for Lhaurel and Talha. The captain exchanged words with Talha and the other men on board the ship, then he personally led Talha and Lhaurel through a door and down within the ship, which turned out to be hollow inside, like one of the wagons, but much, much larger.

  Lhaurel strode along in silence, trying and failing to keep track of it all or at least understand parts of the conversations going on around her. The captain led them to a hallway of doors, gesturing to two of them. Talha said something and the captain left with a bow.

  “You’re in that one,” Talha whispered in the Rahuli language. She gestured to the door closest to Lhaurel. “I recommend you try to sleep.”

  Lhaurel nodded and entered the small room, finding it well lit inside. A small bed lay against one wall. Lhaurel walked over to it and sat down. She laid her staff down on the floor and then reached up to massage at her temples. Her head throbbed with a dull ache, her mind still rocking and tumbling about like the small vessel had on the ocean waters. The world was so much bigger than Lhaurel had ever known. Locked in the Sharani Desert, she’d thought the Forbiddence was the border to life as it was known. She’d only occasionally wondered if there may have been something on the other side. It had been more a childhood fancy than any actual real or serious contemplation. By adulthood, every Rahuli simply accepted their life as fact. The genesauri were the present danger, not something completely unknown and unknowable on the other side of the Forbiddence. Now, her mind struggled to grasp what she saw around her. Kaiden had known. Somehow. Lhaurel pushed the thought away with effort. She couldn’t afford to add more confusion to her already overtaxed mind right now.

  With a sigh, she stretched out on the bed, finding it incredibly soft. She lay there for a long moment, wondering why sleep eluded her. After a time of listening to the sound of creaking wood and the thump of activity above her, Lhaurel pulled the blanket from the bed and slid down onto the floor. She was asleep in moments.

  Chapter 8: Stoned

  “The Progression of the Arts is subject to both internal and external interpretation and, as such, has no real definition. This is the cause of much consternation among the other six Sisters.”

  —From the Discourses on Knowledge, Volume 17, Year 1171

  Gavin and the other Rahuli followed the crowd that surged through the streets. Farah had gotten after him that morning for not taking her with him when he’d left during the night, and then again for not coming back until so much later, but, thankfully, Shallee had arrived shortly and had spared him a further lecture. Now, walking through the streets, the former outcast woman carried her son wrapped in a thick blanket and beneath the folds of her cloak. He protested, wriggling and trying to get the blanket off, but Shallee was faster than he and managed to keep him adequately covered against the cold. Farah walked near him as well, though closer to Shallee at the moment, cloak pulled tightly around her shoulders, chatting off and on with Shallee. The two had formed a budding friendship, for which Gavin felt immense relief. He didn’t know what he would have done if the two hadn’t gotten on well.

  Gavin smiled, welcoming the pleasant sight after the long night of troubled wandering and conversations. Of the two hundred and forty-seven surviving Rahuli, he and Shallee were the only two outcasts left. It left him with a foreboding sense of loneliness, but that, at least, bore a certain familiarity.

  The crowd pressed through the streets, Rahuli mingling with Orinai far more than Gavin was comfortable with, though he didn’t let it show. He’d come to a decision during his long, silent contemplation the night before. He would not let the Orinai consume his people. There was a heritage there, a legacy of over a thousand years. Gavin would not give them reason to suspect him or his people, even if it meant standing by while Brisson’s people carried out their revenge. Not that Samsin was innocent, or that Gavin himself wasn’t guilty of deaths that may not have been necessary, but stoning Samsin was wrong. Deep down it just didn’t feel right.

  But more than that, more important than anything else, he needed his people to survive. Not just that, though. He needed them to flourish.

  “How are the aevians handling things?” Gavin asked, glancing sidelong at Farah.

  Farah shrugged and brushed some of her blond hair out of her eyes. “They’re taking it better than we are, actually, especially the grye. It’s almost as if they prefer the cold.”

  “Good. Are they getting enough food and attention?”

  Farah rolled her eyes. She’d taken over Khari’s responsibilities with the aevians after the Matron’s death. “No, I’m starving them.”

  Gavin opened his mouth to defend himself but Farah cut him off with a raised hand and pursed lips. Her other hand rested on her hip. “
There’s plenty of hunting in the mountains and, if there wasn’t, Brisson’s people have massive herds of cattle and other animals that would make good eating for the aevians.”

  “Keep away from their cattle,” Gavin said a little more forcefully than he’d intended.

  “What do you think I am? A child?” Farah put both hands onto her hips and frowned up at him. “There’s plenty of hunting. They’ll be fine without Brisson’s supplies, I was just stating possibilities.”

  Gavin winced. “I know. I—I mean, we don’t need to seem any more reliant on them than we really are.”

  Farah gave him a look that quite clearly told him she was still upset with him, but nodded anyway. “Agreed.”

  Gavin gave her a tight-lipped smile and Farah turned back to her conversation with Shallee. He was glad Farah had the foresight to already be doing what he needed. Gavin had started to form a plan in the wee hours of the morning, as the first tendrils of dawn pierced the darkness and tinged it with purple. Part of that plan would involve the aevians. For much of the rest of it, Gavin would need to find Evrouin and Cobb. That, and hope he could convince Farah to go along with it, but now wasn’t the time for that.

  The crowd hit the edge of the huts and spread out in a wide arc. Gavin edged to the left when the crowd parted, gently but firmly pushing through the throng in an effort to make it to the forefront. Farah and the others hung back. Gavin wasn’t a large man among his own people, and most of Brisson’s people were of a size with him, but they noted his darker complexion and thick, muscular frame when they turned to see who was pushing past them and let him through. The greatsword at his waist may have had something to do with it as well. By the time Gavin had made it through half the crowd, those in front had noticed him moving forward and parted for him.

  Samsin stood on the edge of a sheer precipice, unbound and wearing simple, but clean white robes. The hidden valley in which they hid continued down below the cliff, but it was at least a ten span drop where they stood now. Further down the valley, the shelf they were on now and on which the huts were built sloped down and met up with the rest of the valley below, but here it formed a perfect place for a stoning. On the inside, Gavin shuddered. On the outside, Gavin kept his face calm, collected, and otherwise impassive. He needed to be there. He needed to see this. But, more than anything, he needed to be seen witnessing it.