by Glenda Larke
MASTER SON, The: Title given to the heir of the sandmaster of each dune; not necessarily a blood son of the sandmaster.
MEDDLE: A herd of pedes.
MICA FLINT: Shale’s older brother; disappeared, either killed or taken prisoner by the Reduners during the raid on Wash Drybone Settle.
MOIQA, Highlord: Highlord of Qanatend, wife to Lord Iani, mother of Lyneth, believed to have died during the siege of her city.
MOTHER CISTERN: A cistern, supplied by mother wells, that in turn supplies water to a city through tunnels.
MOTHER WELL: Wells dug down into the water table, from which water runs into a mother cistern.
MOTLEY, The: The multi-colored mixture of paint powders that forms a base coat for a waterpainting; necessary to fix the future of the scene depicted.
MYRIAPEDE: The smaller of the two species of pedes. Has six segments behind the head/thorax, three pairs of feet per segment. Can seat five to six riders if there is no baggage, but manages better with only two to three riders. Feelers are as long as the body.
NEALRITH ALMANDINE, Highlord of Breccia: Cloudmaster Granthon’s son, rainlord. Died at the hand of Jasper after being severely tortured by Davim.
OPAL, Madam: The owner of the snuggery where Terelle was raised.
OTHER SIDE, The: Anywhere across the Giving Sea.
OTHER SIDERS: People from the lands of the Other Side. Other Siders visiting the Quartern are mostly traders and seamen. They are not encouraged to stay long because of their waterless status.
OUINA, Highlord: Middle-aged Highlord of Breakaway, widow, mother of six children, none having more water talent than a reeve.
PACKPEDE: Length variable, three to five times the length of a myriapede, with eighteen segments and fifty-four pairs of legs. Feelers generally no longer than a myriapede’s.
PALMUBRA: Sun hat used in the Scarpen, woven from the leaves of the bab palm.
PEDE: Large desert herbivore native to the Red and White Quarters; black pedes now used throughout the Scarpen, Red and Gibber Quarters, and white pedes in the White Quarter as personal hacks (see MYRIAPEDE) and beasts of burden (see PACKPEDE). Tearing, cutting and crushing mouthparts masticate food externally. Has poor eyesight, excellent sense of smell.
PEDEMASTER: Man given responsibility for the care of a stable (Scarpen Quarter) or a meddle (Red Quarter) of pedes.
PINNACLE, The: Ruler of Khromatis. Always a Watergiver.
QANATEND: The Scarpen city closest to the Red Quarter, taken and held by the Reduners.
QUARTERN, The: A loose confederation of four distinct quarters (gibber plains, sand dunes, stony drylands and salt plains). Ruled by a Cloudmaster who has limited powers, each quarter largely independent except for water-related concerns and matters involving trade routes, for which they are centrally taxed.
RAINLORD: A water sensitive who can move small bodies of water and who can kill in the “rainlord way,” i.e. take a person’s water from their body. Both men and women rainlords are addressed as “Lord.”
RED QUARTER: That section of the Quartern consisting of lines of red sand dunes, peopled by Reduners.
REDUNER: Anyone born in the Red Quarter, or who has chosen to adopt the dune culture and lived long enough on the dunes to be stained red.
REEVE: A water sensitive who can sense but not move water.
RUSSET KERMES: A waterpainter born in Khromatis, great-grandfather of Terelle Grey. Murderer of Terelle’s father before she was born.
RYKA FELDSPAR, Rainlord: A short-sighted Breccian rainlord of limited water sense; a scholar and teacher. Married to Lord Kaneth Carnelian.
SAMPHIRE: The only city in the White Quarter.
SANDMASTER: The ruler of a dune, commanding all the tribes found on that dune; usually a water sensitive.
SCARCLEFT: The Scarpen city ruled by Highlord Taquar Sardonyx.
SCARPEN QUARTER: The most prosperous of the Quartern’s four quarters. Consists of five stepped cities of the Escarpment, two port cities and one northern city on the other side of the Warthago Range.
SENYA ALMANDINE, Rainlord: Adolescent daughter of Highlord Nealrith and Rainlord Laisa. An unskilled rainlord.
SETTLE: A Gibber village, usually located inside a drywash.
SHALE FLINT, Stormlord: Gibber-born son of Galen and Marisal, identified and trained as a stormlord by Taquar Sardonyx, then by the rainlords of Breccia and Cloudmaster Granthon. Also known as Jasper Bloodstone. His claim to the rank of stormlord or to the title of Cloudmaster is debatable.
SHUFFLE UP, to: The process that changes a waterpainting from a mere artwork to a work of magic fixing the future of the scene and people portrayed in it. It entails the use of the motley by a waterpainter of talent.
SIENNA: Terelle Grey’s mother, a woman of Khromatis who died in a Gibber settle after running away with her lover, Erith Grey. Granddaughter of Russet Kermes.
SINUCCA: A plant, the leaves of which can be made into a contraceptive paste.
SNUGGERY: Higher-class brothel (with either manservants or handmaidens as sex workers).
STORMLORD: Water sensitive with higher powers than a rainlord. Can move fresh water or water vapor over long distances in larger quantities than a rainlord. Can make and move clouds.
TAQUAR SARDONYX, Highlord: Highlord of Scarcleft City. Unmarried and childless.
TERELLE GREY, Arta: Great-granddaughter of Russet Kermes. Born in the Gibber Quarter, but apparently related to the ruling family of Khromatis. Waterpainter.
TIME OF RANDOM RAIN: Period before the rise of water sensitives, about a thousand years ago, when rain was uncontrolled and scarce. Reduners were the major force in the Quartern during this period.
TRIBEMASTER: A man who leads a tribe of any dune of the Red Quarter; usually a water sensitive.
VARA REDMANE: Elderly widow of the Sandmaster of Dune Scarmaker and now apparently leading a rebellion against Sandmaster Davim’s leadership. Whereabouts unknown.
VIVIANDRA (VIVIE): Terelle’s “sister,” actually unrelated, sold with Terelle to Opal’s Snuggery by her father. Now a handmaiden.
WARRIOR SON, The: Title given to the sandmaster’s warrior leader on each dune; not necessarily a blood son of the sandmaster.
WASH DRYBONE SETTLE: Gibber village where Shale Flint was born.
WATER-BLIND: Lacking any water sensitivity i.e. unable to sense the presence of water.
WATERGATHERER, The: Now the main dune of the Red Quarter, as the home dune of Sandmaster Davim and his tribes.
WATERGIVER, The: Believed by the Scarpen pious to be the intermediary of the Sunlord who taught men and women to manipulate water, thus bringing the Time of Random Rain to an end. His actual origins are disputed, even among the waterpriests. Real name believed to have been Ash Gridelin.
WATERGIVERS: Name sometimes used by the people of Khromatis to indicate the water sensitives of that land. Includes waterpainters and those who can move water.
WATERHALL: A cistern room where the flow of water in and out is controlled by reeves.
WATERLESS, The: Anyone who is not entitled to a daily free water allowance. In the Gibber and Scarpen Quarters, anyone born to a waterless father or deemed to have no regular employment is one of the waterless.
WHITE QUARTER: The section of the Quartern closest to Khromatis. Peopled by the Alabasters. Produces salt, and related mineral products. Samphire is the one plant that grows well. Native pedes are white in color.
ZIGGER: Winged flesh-eating, blood-drinking beetle native to the Red Quarter and now used as a weapon. Can be trained not to attack their owners. Excellent sense of smell and eyesight.
ZIGTUBE: Tube used to release ziggers, useful for determining their direction of flight.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book owes much to others. They know who they are, but they deserve to be named here. Phillip Berrie gave his usual invaluable comments as a beta reader. So did Karen Miller who, in spite of her own writing commitments, still found time to give insightful
comments. Then there’s Donna Hanson, who has the wonderful knack of seeing mistakes that everyone else misses. Alena Sanusi not only keeps me on track grammatically but supplies me with much-needed moral support and good company in the local coffee shop during my breaks from writing. I don’t know what I would do without her. And I mustn’t forget the Voyager Purple Zoners, who always have answers to my questions—thanks, folk.
And then there are all the professional people involved in bringing a book to publication. Most definitely I wouldn’t get anywhere at all without them! At the top of that list there are my two wonderful editors, Stephanie Smith in Australia and Samantha Smith in the UK. My heartfelt thanks also goes, as always, to my agent, Dorothy Lumley.
extras
meet the author
Glenda is an Australian who now lives in Malaysia, where she works on the two great loves of her life: writing fantasy and the conservation of rainforest avifauna. She has also lived in Tunisia and Austria, and has at different times in her life worked as a housemaid, library assistant, school teacher, university tutor, medical correspondence course editor, field ornithologist and designer of nature interpretive centers. Along the way she has taught English to students as diverse as Korean kindergarten kids and Japanese teenagers living in Malaysia, Viennese adults in Austria, and engineering students in Tunis. If she has any spare time (which is not often), she goes birdwatching; if she has any spare cash (not nearly often enough), she visits her daughters in the United States and her family in Western Australia. Find out more about the author at www.glendalarke.com.
introducing
If you enjoyed STORMLORD RISING, look out for
STORMLORD’S EXILE
Stormlord: Book Three
by Glenda Larke
“I can see it.” Terelle’s voice in his ear, her hand on his shoulder in encouragement.
Jasper opened his eyes and peered through the open shutters of Qanatend’s stormquest room. Ignoring both the steep slopes of the defeated city below and the plains beyond the walls, he raised his gaze instead to the peaks of the Warthago Range. A distant billow of dark cloud was a blotch on the blue of the sky, the smudge of a god’s thumb.
The strain eased out of his shoulders and his hands uncurled. Silly to tense up like that, but this was the first cloud he’d ever brought to the north when he was so far from the sea. It had been one of the most difficult stormshifts he’d ever had to make.
He glanced back at the waterpainting on the table behind him, then again at the scene outside; they were identical. “Your power, not mine,” he said.
“Dryhead,” she said, her tenderness a balm to his worries. “Without you, my waterpainting would go horribly wrong, and you know it.”
She looked tired, and he was reminded how much shuffling up exhausted her. “Why don’t you rest for a bit,” he suggested, indicating the sofa in front of the fireplace at the other end of the room, “while I get this rain where I want it?”
“Mm. I think I will,” she said. She removed the painting from the paint tray, crumpling it in her hands. “Who’s getting the water?”
“Golderrun. It’s one of the far northern dunes.”
He watched as she walked to the other end of the long room to throw the ruin of the painting into the empty fireplace. Using the contents of the tinder box on the mantelpiece, she set fire to it. The paint curled, then crackled and sputtered, burning with rainbow colors as the resin within caught fire. He wondered if it assaulted her artistic soul to destroy her own creation, even though they had agreed it was necessary.
“I wish I could just acknowl—” he began.
She silenced him with a gesture. “We’ve said it all before.”
“You have, anyway.”
“I’m a terrible scold.”
People must have confidence in their stormlord, she’d said. Better they don’t know about me, not yet. All true, but to take sole credit for something they did together just felt… rotten. The smile he gave her was rueful.
“Wake me when you’ve finished,” she said, and sank down out of sight on the sofa.
Turning to his task of moving the rain-laden cloud, he concentrated on keeping it together on its passage over the dunes. Pebblered first, then Widowcrest, after that, Wrecker, Sandsinger…
Because the back of the sofa was turned his way, he couldn’t see Terelle but he was so aware of her water he could tell she was asleep before their cloud even reached Pebblered. He worked on, but while the storm was still a mile or two short of Widowcrest, he was interrupted.
Someone knocked at the door. Not the tentative knock of a servant but the imperious rapping of someone who did not intend to be denied entry. Jerked away from his focus, he almost lost his hold on the water vapor. Cursing under his breath, he halted the movement of the cloud. He didn’t need to open the door to know who was on the other side: Iani Potch, now Highlord of Scarcleft, Ouina who was Highlord of Breakaway, and two other rainlords, both priests from other Scarpen cities. And worst of all, Basalt, who was calling himself Lord Gold even though the Council of Waterpriests had not yet confirmed him as the Quartern Sunpriest.
Pedeshit.
Terelle popped up to peer over the back of the sofa. She blinked sleepily at him, eyebrows raised in query. He shook his head at her and indicated she should stay out of sight. Eyes suddenly widening in apprehension, she did as he asked.
He steeled himself. Anything that involved Lord Gold was going to be sunblasted tedious. And of course, the man didn’t wait for him to answer the door but marched in, his priests and the two highlords trailing behind.
“You wanted to see me?” Jasper asked politely. “I am stormshifting at the moment. Can’t it wait?”
Basalt flushed purple. Jasper was taken aback. He’d thought his words innocuous, but the Sunpriest obviously thought otherwise.
“No, it cannot!” he said. “Do you think we can’t sense what you are doing?”
“I am sure you can. But why should it bother you?”
“You are sending water into the Red Quarter!”
“Yes. That’s my duty, as Cloudmaster.”
“You aren’t the Cloudmaster yet, you sandworm!”
“And you, my lord, aren’t the Quartern Sunpriest. At least there aren’t any other contenders to my position, though, so I think it relatively assured.” There, I can give as good as I get, Basalt. I’m not the boy you used to teach anymore. Treading on the heels of that thought was the rueful acknowledgment that his youthful umbrage had resurfaced.
“My lords, please,” one of the waterpriests said, his tone placating. “There is no need for name calling.”
Basalt turned his cold stare on the man, who faltered. Iani stepped between the priests to speak, his palsied hand trembling like a sand dancer in a mirage, his lip weeping dribble down his chin.
Oh, sandhells, Jasper thought, steeling himself to meet the misery in the man’s eyes.
“Jasper, look around you at what was done to this city,” Iani said. “Where are the people? Where are the children? Where’s my Moiqa?” The last question he answered himself, chin quivering. “They nailed her to the gate while she was still alive. Her blood is still there, staining the wood. You can see it. Did you know that? Kaneth carried her remains up to the House of the Dead…” His voice trailed away. The tremor in his hand began to shake his body.
“Iani, I am truly sorry, but—”
“How can you send them water?”
His anguish made Jasper wince. Before he could speak, Lord Ouina continued in the same vein, her anger roiling behind the glint of her eyes and the contempt of her tone. “They’ll laugh at us and think us weak, and send their armsmen and their marauders after us all over again. They enslaved the brightest and best of us. Their sun-blighted army has wrecked tunnels and maintenance shafts. Why not make them thirst? Have you baked your brains too long in the sun? Do you want them to come back again and take whatever we have left? The next time it could be my city that suffers.”
>
“Not all Reduners are colored with the same dust,” Jasper said. “They didn’t all support Davim in the past and they don’t all support Ravard now. Would you have them all thirst, even their children, because some among them are murderers?”
“Yes!” Iani’s dribble spattered them both as he took a step closer, shaking an agitated finger. “If they’d been kept busy hunting water before, they would never have had time to attack us. Qanatend would not have fallen and neither would have Breccia. Moiqa would still be alive, and Nealrith and Cloudmaster Granthon.” He dabbed at the spittle running from his permanently sagging lip.
“If I cut their water, they’ll steal more from our cisterns,” Jasper replied. “Then they’ll come and batter at our gates.”
“No they won’t,” Basalt said. “Because now we are the victors. We should assert our strength and beat them into the ground, the godless heathens that they are.”
“I thought the problem you had with them was that they had too many gods,” Jasper said mildly and then berated himself. Being facetious might be satisfying, but it was only going to make Basalt hate him all the more. He hurried on. “If I cut their water, it will be those who support us who suffer first and most. My lords, please, you are wasting your time. The moment we think it is all right for Reduner children to die by our actions because they are Reduner, we lose our own humanity. I will not do it.”
“Children grow up,” Ouina said. “Reduner children become the Davims and Ravards of this world.”
“It’s because of Ravard, isn’t it?” Basalt glared at Jasper, his anger barely under control. “That’s why you continue to water the dunes. Because he’s your brother. Have your family ties warped your judgment?”
Jasper’s eyebrows shot up, his astonishment genuine. “You are accusing me of being a traitor?” The surprise was followed by a stab of fear. Basalt was a powerful man, soon perhaps to be even more so. He needed to be careful, yet resolute. Sunblast it, that’s not easy. Basalt was now in full spate like a rush down a drywash.
