Guardians of the Desert (Children of the Desert) by Leona Wisoker Page A

the child. And he’d expressed doubt as to whether she’d ever be able to have children again . . . She might have given away her only child.
    “High price to pay,” she muttered, and only realized she’d spoken aloud when Azni answered:
    “Yes. But it’s done, and we live with it.” Looking as though she didn’t believe her own words, Azni cleared her throat and took several sips of tea; an uncomfortable silence hung for a few breaths.
    “Will I ever see. . . .” Alyea couldn’t finish the question aloud, but Azni seemed to understand.
    “I haven’t,” Azni said. “I don’t know of many who have. And many of the children from blood trials don’t survive, if I understand correctly. That’s why we’re not drowning in ha’ra’hain and their offspring. The ones who do survive tend to stay with their ha’reye parents.”
    She paused, as though she might say more; shook her head and went back to staring at her teacup with a brooding expression.
    “Why is Deiq walking around in human society, then?”
    “Ask him, not me,” Azni said a touch curtly. “And I believe I’d like to be alone now.”
    “Of course, Lord Azaniari,” Alyea said reflexively, setting her cup down and standing. “Gods hold—”
    Azni didn’t look up, and her voice was tart as she said, “Lord Alyea, I find polite formalities rather empty. And I’ve long hated that blessing, as I don’t believe in the Three, the Four, or any other nonsense religion. So please—just go.”
    Alyea swallowed hard, bowed, and retreated as hastily as was decent; but Lord Azni’s bleak expression haunted her steps for quite some time.

Chapter E l even
     
    Each Head of Family put his or her own mark on a fortress. The few times Deiq had seen, first-hand, a Family’s transition of leadership, he’d observed the rearrangements with intense curiosity. This unusual situation was the most interesting he’d ever seen; the staff were all temporary, loaned from the various Families attending the hastily-convened Conclave. Lord Scratha, rightfully, had little trust in most of them.
    The presence of a northern-raised numaina altered a number of the standard arrangements, right down to what was being prepared in the kitchens and what furniture was being hauled out from under dropcloths and dustjackets.
    Lord Scratha’s study served as the hub of the change. The furnishings were distinctively northern now: a wide-seated wooden slat-backed chair behind a massive blackwood desk, fronted by two thickly upholstered northern chairs—in which sat Alyea and Idisio—and two southern-style kneeling chairs. Drab brown, thick curtains had been replaced with equally thick white drapes, through which streamed intense afternoon light but little heat. Deiq nodded to himself, recognizing the work of Bright Bay weavers; another sign that Scratha Fortress would have much closer ties to northern merchants under Cafad Scratha than it had ever held before.
    Given Cafad Scratha’s obsessive nature, if he took it into his head to pursue that angle, Sessin Family might find themselves facing serious competition for the post of “king’s favorite” in short order; and what an interesting situation that would create, after the years of animosity between the two Families.
    Putting that thought aside for the moment, Deiq leaned against the wall by the door, arms crossed, and raised an eyebrow at Lord Scratha, who sat behind the heavy blackwood desk with an expression of strained patience.
    “He’s on his way,” Deiq said. Everyone turned to stare at him. Alyea and Idisio looked puzzled; Scratha’s scowl deepened.
    “Damned games,” Scratha muttered.
    “You’d do the same,” Deiq observed, then cocked his head, listening to the faint patter of someone walking quietly down the flagstones of the corridor nearby. “Here he is.”
    Scratha smoothed his expression into pleasant blandness just before his s’e-kath —what northerns would call his personal manservant,