Guildmaster Millinith had taken her aside and asked her to sit in on meetings where dragonlinked training would be formalized. It had been flattering, but it had also made her feel guilty. It wasn’t that she hated dragons. She didn’t. She loved them. That wasn’t the issue. It was the thought of being bonded to one that bothered her. It hadn’t at first, but the closer the possibility came to being a reality, the more and more she thought about it.
She’d been in the tub for some time, letting her thoughts wander in hopes of figuring out exactly why it bothered her and had come to two conclusions. One, she worried that the bond was so strong that she wouldn’t feel anything for anyone else anymore. And two, she worried that dragons were not natural creatures. They were so different. There was also the feeling that she was betraying Copper. It was silly, she knew, but that didn’t stop the way she felt. At least she had an idea of what was bothering her, now. The vague unease she’d felt for so long had done nothing but piss her off.
The warm bath felt incredibly good, but if she didn’t leave now, she’d be late meeting up with Cheddar for dinner. She lifted her hands from the no-longer-blazing-hot water and stared at them. Her fingers were incredibly wrinkled.
She stepped out of the tub, leaned in, and removed the stopper. The gurgling sound of water flowing down the drain began. Grabbing the towel, she proceeded to dry off. Done with her body, she sat on the wooden bench and attacked her hair, rubbing vigorously. Walking about outside with wet hair during winter was not a good idea.
“You have a nice shape.”
Sharrah lowered the towel. Polandra, toweling off at the next tub, was smiling at her. The girl must have come in to bathe while she’d had her eyes closed. “I—ah—” Sharrah had no idea what to say. “Um. Thank you.”
“I just wish mine were as big as yours.”
Sharrah looked down at her breasts. “Good gods, why?” She looked at Polandra. “I wish mine were like yours. They’re the perfect size, not too big. You have no idea what a pain these can be.”
Still smiling, Polandra took one last glace, said, “Even so, they’re pretty,” and then proceeded to attack her own hair with a towel.
Sharrah felt her cheeks heat up. She’d gotten used to occasionally catching people stare at them. But no one had ever said that they were pretty before, not even Cheddar, who she knew was a huge fan of them. Of course, if someone on the street had come right out and said that, she might have had to break their arm. But when Polandra called them pretty, it made Sharrah feel . . . proud.
With a bemused smile on her face, Sharrah finished drying her hair and got dressed.
“How old is Ikan?” She buttoned her coat and followed Polandra down the steps.
“He is one year older than Xochi.” A faint smile curved Polandra’s lips. “All Nayra’s children so far have hatched in the same month, one year apart. And all in those caves not too far from Bataan-Mok.”
“I see. So you didn’t get to spend time with him while he was little.”
“No. But getting to see Kisa and Mia makes up for it, a bit.” Her eyes lost focus and she sighed. “Though, his inquisitiveness is many times very child-like.”
Sharrah glanced at her. “What did he say?”
The tall girl’s cheeks flushed and she stared straight ahead. “He doesn’t understand people’s fascination with other people’s bodies. Breasts, for instance.”
She laughed. “Yes, children have questions about many things. And, keep in mind, he’s not even two years old, yet. He may be bigger than a horse, but he is, in many ways, still a child.”
“That is more true than you know.” Polandra shook her head.
Even though she’d only known her a few days, Sharrah somehow felt very at-ease with this girl. She seemed honest and straight-forward, with no hidden agendas. Maybe she could ask Polandra about one of her concerns.
Sharrah cleared her throat. “I understand that bond-mates are very close.”
Polandra nodded. “I would do anything for Ikan. Anything.” Again that distant look to her eyes. “And he would do the same for me.”
“Do you think that being bonded will keep you from, ah, finding someone special, or from staying with that someone?”
Polandra looked at her. Surprise and something else played across her features.
“Is the bond too strong to allow another in your life?” Sharrah tried to keep her voice even and her expression clear.
Sympathy softened Polandra’s face. “Are you worried that if you are bonded you will not have room in your heart for another?”
Sharrah nodded. “That’s exactly one of my fears.” Her next words came out in a whispered rush. “I don’t want to hurt Cheddar.” She twisted her lips. “And I don’t want to lose this feeling I have for him. I like liking him, being in love with him.”
A wistful smile curved Polandra’s lips. “Ah, yes. The boy with the pretty, long hair. Sharrah, our hearts are big enough. You need not concern yourself with that. Being bonded is not what will keep anyone from finding—or keeping—someone special.”
“Are you sure?”
“You need only look at Aeron and Willem, at Renata and the boy with the amazing red hair. Jessip? Even in the short time I’ve been here, I can see how they feel for each other. Their dragons have not prevented them from having relationships.”
Sharrah’s mouth fell open. Of course. Why hadn’t she thought of that? She’d been so worried, so consumed with fear, she’d blinded herself to the obvious.
“You need not concern yourself on that count, Sharrah.”
Sharrah stopped and turned to her.
Polandra stopped, too, a question in her eyes.
“I’ve been such an idiot,” Sharrah said. “Thank you Polandra.” She hugged her. “You’ve helped me more than you know.”
“Did I miss something?” Liara stepped up to them.
Sharrah released Polandra. “Just a friend lending me an ear.” She smiled at Liara. “Have you seen Cheddar?”
“A friend,” Polandra said.
“He was in the office earlier.” Liara glanced at Polandra. “Are you okay?”
“Thanks, Sharrah said and headed for the investigation office.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
Cheddar was at a table, alone in the room. She hugged him from behind. “Hey.”
He leaned into her cheek. “Hi.”
“What are you doing in here by yourself?” She pulled out the chair next to him and sat.
“I got Renata to tell me the entire Hour of Creation and recorded it here.” He tapped a few sheets of paper. “It’s pretty interesting, actually. The story says Yrdra is Ulthis’s sister.”
“Really?”
He laughed. “Yeah. I just wish Renata remembered the unchanged version so we could compare them.”
“Hmm. I wonder if the Caer library has anything on that.” If it did, that would also let her research another of her concerns. Were dragons natural creatures? Anaya had said dragons were made to assist humans. And the legend Renata had mentioned said that Yrdra created dragons, though that was part of the story that had been changed. Sharrah wanted to see the unaltered version.
“We should definitely check, and soon.” He stood and held out his hand. “You hungry? I’m starving. Let’s go grab dinner.”
+ + + + +
Isandath closed the book. The large volume, sheets of parchment bound in leather, slowly settled as the weight of the heavy cover pressed out the air between the pages. He stared at the shelves of books beyond the table. Shelves covered the walls of the archive rooms, and book and scroll cases formed aisles everywhere else. Here and there were tables surrounded by chairs, like little islands in the sea of glass and wood cabinets.
Twenty-five. That was the number of umeri which comprised a quorum. Half of the fifty-one members of the Umeri. If there were some kind of emergency, slightly different rules applied, but that had never happened. As long as there was at least a quorum, the umeri present
cast their votes on an issue brought before them, then the Nesch voted. As for the Capu, that position only held a casting vote, a tie-breaker. The issue passed if the greater number of votes were yeas. Simple, really. All that was needed was a majority to vote the way you wanted.
How were the Umeri divided right now? Isandath rubbed his nose. Well, the percentages of Order members that were followers of the various factions were roughly reflected in the Umeri themselves. Thus, he could make a fairly good estimate using member numbers.
There were several factions in the Order. Many were small, however, and could be ignored. Additionally, with the strange undercurrents in recent months, many factions had fallen apart. Of those remaining, it seemed that there were three to which most people were gravitating.
The ‘old guard,’ firm in the belief that the Order had always been correct and should adhere even closer to the old ways, had been shrinking. He estimated that the umeri in that group, like Order members in general, now stood at around twenty percent. That only a fifth of the Order held to those old beliefs was heartening. It shouldn’t be surprising, he supposed. There were not many members alive who’d even seen a dragon, so old fears were perhaps being forgotten. With the recent supposed deaths by the creatures at the flats, however, more Order members were thinking like those old guard adherents. Their numbers would likely begin to grow.
The increasingly popular ‘isolationist’ group, as Isandath thought of them, made up a good portion of the Order, around ten percent. The manisi, they felt, should stop worrying about dragons, creatures most had never even seen, and should focus instead on maintaining the peace in Bataan-Mok and the surrounding villages. Forget about far away places—and non-existent dragons. Pull in the patrols and keep the locals safe. Most people had been gravitating to this group before the deaths in the flats. They’d even been able to influence the Order to reduce the area manis patrols covered. Isandath placed the number of umeri in this group at around seven.
The third faction was more secretive. They appeared to be working with outside people, but toward what purpose, Isandath had as of yet been unable to determine. They numbered somewhere between the old guard and the isolationists. He guessed there were six to twelve umeri in this group, at least based on who was meeting with whom and how often.
He thought there might be another important group, a mystery faction. Well, he was calling it a faction, though he had no idea as to their beliefs or purpose. The Order had a great number of members who had no obvious affiliation, and in fact, were conspicuous in their neutrality, even in the current, tense atmosphere. He suspected that many of the unaffiliated were actually part of this even more secretive group. So closed-mouthed was this group, however, their numbers were nearly impossible to estimate. Still, if only half of the unaffiliated were in the group, that was around thirty percent of the Order’s members. One would assume the unaffiliated umeri were at a similar ratio. If so, they numbered more than each of the other factions, but far short of a majority.
If the Order was going to change, this unknown group might be the only one who could do it. If their existence wasn’t a mirage, anyway, and if they could recruit more members and umeri to their cause.
Isandath placed his hand on the worked leather cover and sighed.
“You seem troubled, Archivist.”
The chair squeaked with the twitch his body made. He turned and spied the visitor. “Umeron, you startled me. How can I help you?” He stood.
A smile spread across the woman’s face. “I’d like to see the original translation that Daelon based the Hour of Creation upon.”
He tensed and blurted out, “Those documents are restricted.”
“Come now, Master Archivist. Umeri are allowed access.” One corner of her mouth quirked higher. “In fact, most of them have read the translations. I believe there are only two umeri that have not.” She quirked her lips in distaste. “Boring and lifeless, that pair. One has had the exact same meal for dinner the last four years. Can you imagine?”
His eyes widened slightly. How did she know all that? He bowed. “Of course, Umeron. I spoke without thinking. My apologies.”
Was she an Observer? They could be anyone. A guard walking down a hallway. A crusan carrying a tray of drinks. Even pesani, as young as they were, could be Observers.
“If you would accompany me?” He led her through the aisles to the far end of the archive floor.
Why would they send an Observer now, though? He hadn’t spoken openly of his concerns for years.
When they reached the heavy wooden door, he removed a key from his robe and unlocked it. It slid open silently. The chamber beyond was small, compared to the mostly open archive floor. Still, there was space enough for two tables. He guided her to one.
“If you would please be seated, I will retrieve the documents for you.”
“Thank you.” She sat and glanced about the room, eyes bright and curious.
He walked to where the translation was stored, a chest of drawers. From on top, he grabbed two pair of gloves and slipped one pair on. He slid open a wide drawer and removed a slim document press from within. He carried it and the other gloves back to the umeron.
“If you would put these gloves on? They will protect the documents.”
While the umeron silently did as asked, he placed the press before her. It contained several thin, metal frames mounted on hinges so that they could be flipped through, almost like the pages of a book. He opened the press, revealing the first frame. The sheet of parchment floated, suspended in the frame. It looked as if it were between two invisible pieces of glass, but that was not the case. Etched runes ran along the half-inch wide metal frame, symbols of the spell used to magically hold and protect its sheet of parchment.
“The pages are written on both sides,” he explained, “and even though they are protected with an enchantment, please take care as you flip the frames to view their reverse sides.”
He stepped back. “I’ll leave you to your reading.”
Before he could, however, she said, “Please, Master Archivist, keep me company.” She indicated the chair across the table from her.
He glanced at her, surprised. “As you wish, Umeron.” Making his way around the small table, he wondered why she wanted him to remain.
“Tevah.”
Hand on the back of the chair, Isandath paused. “Pardon?”
She carefully flipped the frame over. “My name is Tevah.”
He sat down. “Are you an Observer, Umeron Tevah? I’ve done nothing worthy of such.”
Her gaze flicked up to him and she smiled. “I am not an Observer. However, we do observe.” She returned to studying the page.
“We?”
Slowly flipping the frames, she stopped at the last page. “The founder omitted a few words near the end and inserted one word a little earlier. Doing so changed the meaning of the thing, made it specific.” She ran her gloved fingers across the page, almost reverently. “I’ve always wondered why he did that.” Tilting her head slightly, she looked thoughtful. “If you read this original form, it is unclear what Yrdra created, nor is it clear exactly what Ulthis gifted us with, aside from it being ‘attuned to the magic she used.’” She looked up at him. “Fascinating, don’t you think?”
Isandath didn’t know what to think. He frowned. “Who is this ‘we’ that observes?”
“Why, your mystery faction, of course.”
“How do you—” He stood. “You are an Observer.”
Her earrings tinkled when she looked up at him. “Peace, Isandath, peace.” She raised her hands. “As I said, I am not an Observer. But the Laminae do observe.”
He stared at her. “They still exist?”
“Indeed, we do.” She smiled. “And we control the Observers.”
+ + + + +
Piven stared at the man, waiting. He’d stand here all night without speaking if it came to that. He liked having a tongue. His boss sat in a large chair behind an enormous desk. The
wall of windows behind the man revealed the night skyline of Stronghold.
“Did he have any specific evidence?”
“Not that I could find, sir. After returning into Delcimaar, he spent some time in a tavern before heading home. I searched the small cottage after I took care of him. There was nothing there, other than that notebook which I found hidden away.”
Thick fingers flipped through the small leather-bound book. “He seemed to know a great deal about our operations. According to this, he’d been looking into us for months before I set you to find our fly on the wall.” He closed the notebook and looked up. “Was he working with anyone?”
“I don’t think so. There was no one else at his home when I arrived and no evidence he was expecting anyone. No one came by all night, nor in the morning. I left an hour after sunup and took a train to get here as fast as I could.”
“One of Lord Eldin’s trains.”
“Yes, sir. One of his. And I took ours once I could. I was sure you wanted to hear back from me as soon as possible.”
“Were you able to learn the name of the person who set him on us?”
“There was no indication in that notebook nor in his home as to why he started looking into the flats.”
“I see.” Brows furrowed and lips turned downward in disappointment.
Piven swallowed. “The search for the bird continues at the nest, but perhaps it was someone from a village? A relative of one of those we had to take care of at the flats? His notebook says he spent some time in the villages.”
“Possibly. Get back to the mine and make sure they stay on schedule. While you’re there see if anything more can be learned about this man and any associates he may have had.” He stood and faced the windows, a dark shadow outlined by the lights of the city. “And Piven?”
“Sir?”
“Make sure there are no more flies buzzing around our pie.”
A Storm in the Desert: Dragonlinked Chronicles Voume 3 Page 9
