In the stuffy tent, Allamu told Prioress Irkalla of the bizarre plant sprouted in the wastes, the twisted sativa-keeper, and the arcane properties of its petals. The grieving mother listened closely, her stoic cheeks wet with tears. Irkalla spoke of finding true justice. Allamu assured her that such a fine thing would be a balm … Read more
Wrapped in the appropriated cloak of a servant and carrying a pair of buckets, Allamu moved through the siege camp as though invisible. There ought to have been guards at the Prioress’s white tent, but the sounds of raised voices and raised weapons from Sabit’s appearance and capture had lured them from their posts. Allamu … Read more
Like a whirlwind, Sabit batted aside every spearpoint thrust toward Allamu’s fallen form. Woodpeckers did not raise the wooden clack of shaft-against-shaft so rapidly. Sabit shoved two spearpoints toward the sky and twisted to kick their wielders square in the chest. Two more charged in. Batting the spears to either side, Sabit dashed between the … Read more
Running side-by-side over the uneven terrain, Sabit and Allamu kept ahead of the pursuing sentries. Both had long strides that ate up the distance to the white tent shining in the morning light. The sound of the sentries’ cries grew more distant. Cloaked figures milled about the tent in the morning chill. Sabit was almost … Read more
Several days walking brought the pair to the ridge overlooking Elpasné. In the distance, the great city filled the bottom of the valley. Its narrow, orderly streets formed such beguiling patterns that many claimed the city had been sculpted by the gods. Each roof bloomed with lush greenery of every shade. Surrounding it all, sturdy … Read more
Leaving the camp in the cool of the night, Sabit and Allamu made their way back to the main road, picking their way between rocks, navigating by the stars and dead reckoning. When their sandals clopped onto the hard-packed road, Sabit turned to the east. “We cannot go to Elpasné,” Allamu said. “Mine was the … Read more
Sabit doubted that many tears had ever watered the foul sativa, but she hoped hers were bitter enough to wither it to dust. Allamu waited on the clearing’s edge in silence. The shadows had grown long. The western sky was painted with blood. “This was Ishum,” Sabit said. “He was prince of Ghabar. Barely a … Read more
Sabit stood tall over the fallen sativa-keeper. His bloody face glowered hatefully at her. With a gurgle, he attempted to command his thralls against her. None could hear. Sabit made quick work of him. “What a terrible and great vegetable this is,” Allamu said, studying the sativa’s tempting blooms from a cautious distance. “All that … Read more
Surrounded, bound, and outnumbered, Sabit took the only course that she could see. She went limp in her bonds. The thralls to her sides struggled with the spear-ends, trying to keep her in place for the swordsman’s blow. The sativa-keeper ducked low to keep hold of her hair. The swordsman raised his blade. With an … Read more
Sabit strained against her captivity, but the ropes were too thick to snap, the knots too tight to squirm free. That coward-prince Allamu was nowhere to be seen. Her gaudy captor had instructed his thralls to yoke Sabit to her own spear, the sharp iron point also bound up in thick leather. Even if she … Read more