fabric like opening a door.
----
Getting a good look at her was far more frightening than being in the dark of the tent.
The woman was clearly of another race, one I had never seen, not even in Vaarn, where all kinds of people pass through. She was extremely tall, taller perhaps than anyone I had seen since coming to Serendair. Her forehead was wide, and her face tapered down to a narrow chin. Her skin was gold, not like the golden tan sailors get from being outside in the sun all their lives, but gold like the color of the sun itself. But the most extraordinary things about her were her eyes. They were entirely gold, even the parts that would normally be white on a human or a Nain, with darker gold irises.
Her face was completely expressionless.
The only thing I could tell for certain was that she was watching me.
----
“Madame—Sharra?” Ven stammered.
The woman’s eyes seemed to cast around at each of the children. Then she looked back at Ven.
She said nothing.
Ven’s skin, already tingling, stung with nervous energy. He tried to look into the dark area behind her, but saw nothing. In the glow that radiated from her he could see the black satin symbols on the tent walls to the left and right of the opening more clearly. The one on the right closest to the door seemed familiar. He concentrated, trying to remember where he had seen it. When he did, his eyes opened wide.
“I know where I’ve seen that symbol before,” he said to Char, who was standing beside him, trembling slightly. “That’s the same writing I saw on that thin stone in the Rover’s box.”
Before Char could answer, the woman’s long arm shot out from behind the drape. She seized Ven by the collar of his shirt in a grip stronger than his brother Luther’s.
And dragged him into the depths of the tent.
With a soft whoosh, all the flaps of the tent slammed shut, plunging the remaining children into darkness where they stood.
10
Madame Sharra
T ELL ME,” COMMANDED THE GOLDEN WOMAN.
Her voice was soft and clear, with a low music in it, like the song of the wind on an especially dark night. It sounded like it came from another place, another time.
It was also as sharp and deadly as the weapons in Mr. Coates’s shop.
From behind the tent walls Ven could hear his friends panicking, calling to him and to each other. Their voices were muffled by the fabric as they stumbled around in the dark.
“Please,” he said, his throat tight and dry in her grasp. “I don’t know what you mean. Please let me go.”
The tall woman’s deadly grip tightened, choking off the air in his throat.
“Where did you see it?”
Ven’s mind was starting to darken. He felt like he was about to pass out. He struggled to remain conscious, fearing what would happen to him and to his friends if he didn’t.
“The stone?” he asked woozily.
The golden eyes narrowed.
Ven did not know what to say, but he knew that his life was hanging in the balance now. He decided that a woman who could see the future could also tell if he was lying, so he took his chances with the truth.
“I—I saw something—inside—a Rover’s box—” he stammered, his voice coming out in a rasp. He struggled to breathe, but each breath hurt worse. “It was a—a—thin stone—or something like it—sort of gray—with what looked like a picture of a keyhole on it. It—it sparkled—the same way your tent did—when we first—came in—”
“Where?” the woman demanded again.
“At the—crossroads,” Ven whispered. “Outside—Kingston. The box is closed—now—and buried.”
The air rushed back into his lungs as the woman released him.
Ven’s hand went to his neck. He rubbed his throat, trying to soothe the sting out of it.
The tall golden woman turned away for a moment, and extended her hand. In it was a thin tablet of stone, about the size of Ven’s palm. It was inscribed with the same symbol that was on the flag above her tent, an eye
----
Getting a good look at her was far more frightening than being in the dark of the tent.
The woman was clearly of another race, one I had never seen, not even in Vaarn, where all kinds of people pass through. She was extremely tall, taller perhaps than anyone I had seen since coming to Serendair. Her forehead was wide, and her face tapered down to a narrow chin. Her skin was gold, not like the golden tan sailors get from being outside in the sun all their lives, but gold like the color of the sun itself. But the most extraordinary things about her were her eyes. They were entirely gold, even the parts that would normally be white on a human or a Nain, with darker gold irises.
Her face was completely expressionless.
The only thing I could tell for certain was that she was watching me.
----
“Madame—Sharra?” Ven stammered.
The woman’s eyes seemed to cast around at each of the children. Then she looked back at Ven.
She said nothing.
Ven’s skin, already tingling, stung with nervous energy. He tried to look into the dark area behind her, but saw nothing. In the glow that radiated from her he could see the black satin symbols on the tent walls to the left and right of the opening more clearly. The one on the right closest to the door seemed familiar. He concentrated, trying to remember where he had seen it. When he did, his eyes opened wide.
“I know where I’ve seen that symbol before,” he said to Char, who was standing beside him, trembling slightly. “That’s the same writing I saw on that thin stone in the Rover’s box.”
Before Char could answer, the woman’s long arm shot out from behind the drape. She seized Ven by the collar of his shirt in a grip stronger than his brother Luther’s.
And dragged him into the depths of the tent.
With a soft whoosh, all the flaps of the tent slammed shut, plunging the remaining children into darkness where they stood.
10
Madame Sharra
T ELL ME,” COMMANDED THE GOLDEN WOMAN.
Her voice was soft and clear, with a low music in it, like the song of the wind on an especially dark night. It sounded like it came from another place, another time.
It was also as sharp and deadly as the weapons in Mr. Coates’s shop.
From behind the tent walls Ven could hear his friends panicking, calling to him and to each other. Their voices were muffled by the fabric as they stumbled around in the dark.
“Please,” he said, his throat tight and dry in her grasp. “I don’t know what you mean. Please let me go.”
The tall woman’s deadly grip tightened, choking off the air in his throat.
“Where did you see it?”
Ven’s mind was starting to darken. He felt like he was about to pass out. He struggled to remain conscious, fearing what would happen to him and to his friends if he didn’t.
“The stone?” he asked woozily.
The golden eyes narrowed.
Ven did not know what to say, but he knew that his life was hanging in the balance now. He decided that a woman who could see the future could also tell if he was lying, so he took his chances with the truth.
“I—I saw something—inside—a Rover’s box—” he stammered, his voice coming out in a rasp. He struggled to breathe, but each breath hurt worse. “It was a—a—thin stone—or something like it—sort of gray—with what looked like a picture of a keyhole on it. It—it sparkled—the same way your tent did—when we first—came in—”
“Where?” the woman demanded again.
“At the—crossroads,” Ven whispered. “Outside—Kingston. The box is closed—now—and buried.”
The air rushed back into his lungs as the woman released him.
Ven’s hand went to his neck. He rubbed his throat, trying to soothe the sting out of it.
The tall golden woman turned away for a moment, and extended her hand. In it was a thin tablet of stone, about the size of Ven’s palm. It was inscribed with the same symbol that was on the flag above her tent, an eye