letting them sound together is how we release the tectonic forces the
szuldar
keep fettered. It is how we quiet ourselves, and know peace.”
Marashan tugged at his other hand. “And it’s how we blast holes in stuff. Come on, let’s
show
him!”
Flek rolled his eyes and indicated that Cephas should follow his youngest sister, and soon they were clambering through the loose rubble that marked the western border of the village, beneath the towering spires of rock the genasi called the Sarenstar, the place of deadly teeth. Cephas picked out the common-tongue translation amidMarashan’s chatter, right after she had advised him that everything her sister told him was a word-for-word recitation of one of their mother’s lessons and that she hoped he wasn’t impressed. At last he held up his hands in an effort to slow the tide of the girl’s talk.
“What? What is that?” Marashan asked, aping the move. “Is that a gladiatorial stance? Are you going to show me some moves?” Elder Lin had been troubled to learn of Cephas’s upbringing and recent past; Sonnett mortified; Flek cautiously interested. Marashan was wildly enthusiastic.
“No,” said Cephas. “I just have a question about the name you used there, for the spires. The circus folk call those the Spires of Mir, and that is how they are marked on Corvus’s maps. I—I can write that out for you if you like. I have my stylus.”
Flek looked confused, but he shook his head and quieted his sister. “No need. We know the name. The word we use, ‘Sarenstar,’ isn’t any older than the word ‘Mir.’ When the trees turned, it seemed a better name than the other to carry on from our grandsires. The humans of Calimshan called this the place of sharp teeth because of the fell monsters they believed to dwell in the deepest woods—the
ssri Tel’Quessir
, great dragons, even older things.”
Cephas said, “Mattias Farseer told me that this was once a forest, and that there is still a great stretch of woods farther south called the Mir. I know nothing of dragons, though, or of the other monsters you named,
ssri
…?
”
“Ssri Tel’Quessir,”
said Sonnett. “It is what the dark elves call themselves. I hope you never have to learn anything of the drow, Cephas. They are a great challenge to peace.”
The siblings made the sweeping, open-palmed gesture as one when Sonnett spoke, and Cephas made a clumsy attempt to copy them, eliciting a giggle from Marashan.He thought anything but peaceful thoughts, remembering Grinta’s advice regarding drow: fire, light, open ground.
The three were seated together among the boulders, for once relatively still, and Cephas could see the family resemblance was tempered by their ages, and by other characteristics. They shared something close to Cephas’s own deep red skin color, and like all the genasi of the village, they were smooth skinned even to their scalps. The familial connection was told by their similar noses and crooked grins. But what set them apart from one another most was the whirling, looping network of the
szuldar
lines. Even between Sonnett and Marashan who, despite their age difference, resembled each other almost as closely as Shan did Cynda, the patterns of the softly glowing gold lines were distinct, individual, unique.
On Jazeerijah, the freedmen refused to answer any questions from Cephas about the intricacies of his own skin. Azad had even told him the lines were signs of disease. Here in Argentor, the genasi celebrated the bold, singular
szuldar
patterns. Cephas had seen men and women with tattoos designed to accentuate the lines, and the clothing styles of all the villagers, even those of Elder Lin and Sonnett, were tailored to show the lines on each person’s arms, legs, stomach, and back.
He had much to learn, indeed, and not just about his earthsouled heritage, for here was Tobin come to fetch him back to the grounds that would house the circus’s performance.
“It is time to raise the
szuldar
keep fettered. It is how we quiet ourselves, and know peace.”
Marashan tugged at his other hand. “And it’s how we blast holes in stuff. Come on, let’s
show
him!”
Flek rolled his eyes and indicated that Cephas should follow his youngest sister, and soon they were clambering through the loose rubble that marked the western border of the village, beneath the towering spires of rock the genasi called the Sarenstar, the place of deadly teeth. Cephas picked out the common-tongue translation amidMarashan’s chatter, right after she had advised him that everything her sister told him was a word-for-word recitation of one of their mother’s lessons and that she hoped he wasn’t impressed. At last he held up his hands in an effort to slow the tide of the girl’s talk.
“What? What is that?” Marashan asked, aping the move. “Is that a gladiatorial stance? Are you going to show me some moves?” Elder Lin had been troubled to learn of Cephas’s upbringing and recent past; Sonnett mortified; Flek cautiously interested. Marashan was wildly enthusiastic.
“No,” said Cephas. “I just have a question about the name you used there, for the spires. The circus folk call those the Spires of Mir, and that is how they are marked on Corvus’s maps. I—I can write that out for you if you like. I have my stylus.”
Flek looked confused, but he shook his head and quieted his sister. “No need. We know the name. The word we use, ‘Sarenstar,’ isn’t any older than the word ‘Mir.’ When the trees turned, it seemed a better name than the other to carry on from our grandsires. The humans of Calimshan called this the place of sharp teeth because of the fell monsters they believed to dwell in the deepest woods—the
ssri Tel’Quessir
, great dragons, even older things.”
Cephas said, “Mattias Farseer told me that this was once a forest, and that there is still a great stretch of woods farther south called the Mir. I know nothing of dragons, though, or of the other monsters you named,
ssri
…?
”
“Ssri Tel’Quessir,”
said Sonnett. “It is what the dark elves call themselves. I hope you never have to learn anything of the drow, Cephas. They are a great challenge to peace.”
The siblings made the sweeping, open-palmed gesture as one when Sonnett spoke, and Cephas made a clumsy attempt to copy them, eliciting a giggle from Marashan.He thought anything but peaceful thoughts, remembering Grinta’s advice regarding drow: fire, light, open ground.
The three were seated together among the boulders, for once relatively still, and Cephas could see the family resemblance was tempered by their ages, and by other characteristics. They shared something close to Cephas’s own deep red skin color, and like all the genasi of the village, they were smooth skinned even to their scalps. The familial connection was told by their similar noses and crooked grins. But what set them apart from one another most was the whirling, looping network of the
szuldar
lines. Even between Sonnett and Marashan who, despite their age difference, resembled each other almost as closely as Shan did Cynda, the patterns of the softly glowing gold lines were distinct, individual, unique.
On Jazeerijah, the freedmen refused to answer any questions from Cephas about the intricacies of his own skin. Azad had even told him the lines were signs of disease. Here in Argentor, the genasi celebrated the bold, singular
szuldar
patterns. Cephas had seen men and women with tattoos designed to accentuate the lines, and the clothing styles of all the villagers, even those of Elder Lin and Sonnett, were tailored to show the lines on each person’s arms, legs, stomach, and back.
He had much to learn, indeed, and not just about his earthsouled heritage, for here was Tobin come to fetch him back to the grounds that would house the circus’s performance.
“It is time to raise the
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