I was going to write another installment of Dacia's War ...

 Dear Reader,

I was going to write for you another installment of Dacia's War but this migraine is making it like thinking through mud. Also, my notes for where the plot was going next have gone missing. I suspect my son, who is attempting to write his own novel, swiped the pages to use the blank sides. As such, I have to re-read the entire serial story and figure out what I was up to. With the chaos of turkey day coming up, it may be two weeks before I post the next installment. I ask your forgiveness. Similar difficulties are going with the Iron Lily.

On one hand, it's awesome that my son has taken to writing like a duck to water. On the other hand, he's going through paper like it's going out of style. And already used up half a package of pencils in the course of two months. He's been eyeing my mechanical pencils covetously. Much like his brother, the artist/crafter, has been eyeing my sharpie pens. Gods help me, these are my children. Chaos is going to happen any moment.

Dacia's War (Part 33): Wrath of Julara

 Al-Uzza shivered as she rode the pony along the steep trail upwards. She pointedly refused to look backwards because she knew that she'd be looking down if that were the case. The snow that fell the night before strangely did not reach the part of the road they were traveling. Al-Uzza questioned if it could rightly be called a road. Before her, Iona rode with a keen eye out for any bandits. Both Iona and Althos insisted that she shouldn't be riding at the head of the party but Al-Uzza refused to listen to them. 

Just before Iona was their guide walking on the uneven ground. The rocky ground shifted and threatened to give way at times but the ponies were untroubled by it. As they came over the shoulder of the mountain, the guide stopped and looked back at Al-Uzza. "My Lady," he said, "If you look across the valley to the mountain just beyond, you will see Acidavia halfway up the slope, provided your eyes are sharp." Al-Uzza ignored the guide's barb and moved to dismount. The guide was there in a few moments and helped the priestess down.

Al-Uzza walked to the place where the guide had been standing. He reached out to point the way when Al-Uzza glared at him. She turned her attention to looking at the walled city perched on the mountainside. Along the southern wall of the city, she saw what she presumed was the army laying siege with their vast array of tents. A faint thrum echoed off the valley's walls and then came a crash. "Acidavia has great catapults and a goodly supply of material to throw, but they've been like this for weeks. I suspect that the city will fall soon," said a voice behind Al-Uzza.

The large woman turned to look at one of the mercenary commanders who had come forward from the company behind her. "Then we haven't time to waste talking. Gather your men and begin your way toward the city. Iona stay with me. Althos, you are their war-leader. All shall follow your command as you come upon the enemy. If you with to consult with these people for a plan of attack, I will allow it," Al-Uzza said.

"What about you?" Althos asked. Al-Uzza turned to look at the city she was to become mistress of.

"I do not need your tongue distracting me," she said tartly, "All of you go. When the last of the party has gone forward, I will begin." Althos gave a half bow, glancing over at Iona. The Silent Sister shrugged, not entirely sure what Al-Uzza was going to do from across the valley. The priestess and the nun waited side by side as the entire company marched past them. As they passed, some of the mercenaries gave the two women lecherous looks. Al-Uzza glowered as Iona put a hand on the pommel of her long knife. And then, the jangling of tack and gear mingled with the noise of marching feet was disappearing into the distance.

"Give me your knife," Al-Uzza said, doing her best to ignore the way her stomach ached and growled. She had not eaten in two days. She was cold and had a headache. Al-Uzza knew that her discomfort would be enough to bring down a storm but she felt that greater sacrifice was needed. Iona handed her knife over to Al-Uzza. For a moment, Iona looked at the hard expression on Al-Uzza's face. "In ancient days, one was sacrificed to Julara to bring rain. If our Lady demanded it of you, would you lay down your life?" Al-Uzza asked Iona.

Iona straightened and looked towards Acidavia. She took off her glove and pushed back her sleeve, bearing her right wrist. "Cut upwards, along the vein, and deep," Iona said. Al-Uzza turned her attention back to the city.

"Today is not the day you shall die," Al-Uzza said, "Bring that pony over." Iona looked at the two ponies and selected the one that she had been riding. Iona took the riding gear off of the beast and lead it to Al-Uzza. Al-Uzza looked the creature over and nodded. She began to sing in an ancient tongue that had been all but forgotten except by the priestesses and librarians of Julara. Iona held the pony's head still as Al-Uzza cut across the doomed animal's throat. Blood fountained out as the pony tried to shy away. Al-Uzza dropped the knife and took handfuls of blood. She threw them into the sky in the direction of Acidavia. As the pony dropped to the ground, Al-Uzza did her best to catch as much blood and throw as she could with her bare hands. She sang the eerie song the whole time that both was familiar and unfamiliar to Iona. 

Clouds gathered over Acidavia. At first, a gentle rain began to fall. Then the rain fell harder and began to freeze. The people Acidavia cowered in their homes. They knew that rain in the dead of winter was unheard of. The Governor of Acidavia shouted to his soldiers to leave their posts and ensure the gates of the city were barred before taking shelter. Outside of the city, the army gave a cheer as they saw soldiers leaving their posts along the battlements. That cheer turned to cries of alarm as the ice began to settle and form over all out exposed in it, building, beast, and person alike. Where regular rain would have soaked them to the bone, this enchanted rain froze as it fell on them and restricted their movements.

The rain poured until the army was driven into their shelters. Those who had no shelter froze to death upon their feet. Ice encased the tents and the city. As this happened, Althos and the fighting force were hastening their way across the valley. It was dusk when they reached the rearguard of the army and the rain had stopped. Some of the mercenaries swore at the sight about them.

"Take them tent by tent," Althos commanded. And the fighting men did just that. There were screams and some died. Most of the mercenaries and the warriors that Decebal sent came out of the tents alive. The enemies that tried to hide in them were slaughtered. Away on the other mountain, Al-Uzza and Iona made their way down. Althos sent Decebal's men to meet them in the valley. The siege had been broken.

Locales: Acidavia

 Dear Reader,

Acidavia is a city-state in the Dacian empire. It is located in the mountainous region simply known as the North. Home of the second largest library of religious and legal texts, Acidavia is well suited to its role as the remote city of scholars. It's climate is generally dry and cool during the warmer months and bitterly cold and snowy during winter. The people of Acidavia are of mixed heritage.

Acidavia is a remnant of the pre-Dacian empire peoples who lived in that region as part of another empire that has been forgotten as of the time of the current story (Dacia's War). The building style is blockier and heavier than what is found in Dacia city or in the lowlands. Acidavia is one of the largest cities of the North. The city is supported by the hilly farming lands about the mountain it sits on. Acidavia has long been a stronghold against the nomadic people who live in the higher mountains farther north.

The people of Acidavia are complex. There is a thriving art and cultural community that is focused upon the cultus of Julara primarily. The cultus of Ashur is strong in Acidavia but it is not represented as much in iconography unless Ashur is paired with Julara. These paired icons are most commonly seen at intersections of roads through out the empire. Acidavia is famed for the manufacture of these icons and is known as 'the city of the stone lovers' because of it.

The governor of Acidavia and his wife are the heads of the body of worship for Ashur and Julara respectively. The governor of Acidavia is responsible for the defense of the region and the rule of law. His wife is responsible for overseeing civil disputes and enacting the will of the Empress. In a twist upon typical Dacian politics, the governor of Acidavia and his wife are equal in power where as in most Dacian city-states, the wife is head of the region just as the Empress is head of the empire.

Dacia's War: Part 32 - Sunrise

 The dead of night gave way to false dawn. Outside the tent, Lady Al-Uzza could hear people stirring. Althos regarded her solemnly. Iona awoke to begin fixing food for the three of them. Al-Uzza was too troubled by her dream from the night before and Althos's interpretation to have an appetite. It didn't help that it was traveler's bread, jerky, and tea. As the large woman eyed the small trencher with her breakfast on it, she frowned and her gaze went distant. "My Lady," said Iona, "You must eat to keep your strength as we travel." Al-Uzza waved a dismissive hand at the comment and began to pace around the tent.

The younger woman looked over at Althos. He shrugged and began eating. "If they have laid a siege upon the city, how are we to break it? We haven't an army," the priestess said. The warrior monk looked up from his trencher. "If a storm came that drove them away, it would help," she mused.

"Julara's daughters have the ability to summon storms," Althos said, "The severity of the storm depends upon their wrath at the target." Al-Uzza looked over at Iona, who nodded in agreement. "I do not know the ritual. It is a secret kept by your order, my Lady. Perhaps the librarian would have passing knowledge of such a ritual and that it why they were sent north."

Al-Uzza sat on the edge of her cot and meditatively nibbled on her traveler's bread. It was dry and tasteless. Fit for little more than keeping body bound together with soul, the priestess disliked it immensely. But, eating was a mechanical action at the time and she barely noticed it as she mentally walked through the stacks of the library. With her prolific gift for memorization, Al-Uzza had memorized most of the books of the library. As head librarian, she had a great deal of idle time that she spent reading texts. In her memory, she could see a picture of the Accounting of the Daughters of Julara.

Al-Uzza closed her eyes to concentrate more fully. In her mind's eye, she took the book from the shelf and began turning pages. Soon, she came to one titled 'Summoning Mother's Wrath.' She 'read' the page before opening her eyes. The world outside of the tent was bright with the colors of dawn. Dimly, they penetrated the canvas of the tent. Althos watched Al-Uzza's expression move from eerie stillness to something grim that he had never seen before. "Get me to where I can see Acidavia and the army surrounding it. I know what must be done," Al-Uzza said, setting aside her trencher.

"My Lady, you must eat," Iona said. Al-Uzza shook her head.

"No, my discomfort will feed the storm. Take my portion, Silent Sister, you will need it when they turn to face us," Al-Uzza said, "We should be upon them soon if the gods allow it. If not, I fast until we reach them." There was a tapping at the pavillion's door flap. Althos stood and looked out. One of his men muttered something about it was time to take down the tent and make preparations to move onward. Althos turned to say something to Al-Uzza who was already wrapping her leg warming wraps as Iona had done the day before and preparing to shove her heavily stockinged feet into her furred boots.

Dacia's War: Part 31- Dreams

 Al-Uzza did not sleep well. The cold, rocky ground beneath her pallet beside the brazier remained cold and unyielding. It reminded her too much of her time as an acolyte under the harsh hand of the librarian who trained her. Through the night, she woke to the sound of the wind whistling around the tent and what felt to be the unnatural stillness of the night. Life within the largest city of the empire had made her forget what it was like in the wilds. It was a life that was pure luxury compared to what she was enduring at the moment, in her opinion.

Al-Uzza found her way to her feet in the deeps of night. Iona was resting beside the other brazier as Althos sat guard at the door. He held in his left had a bit of rope with a series of knots on it. Softly, he muttered his vigil prayers to Ashur. When Al-Uzza woke, he noted it but did not stir. His gaze was fixed at some point in the middle of the space of the enclosure. Though he was chanting, Althos was listening intently to the sounds outside of the tent even as he kept watch over the priestess and nun.

The vague noises of the encampment at night were quiet and suggesting that those who could rest were doing so. He had looked at the map that Iona had carried and estimated that they'd be through the pass by late afternoon. He didn't like the prospect of taking horses up a mountain but the insistence that they were trained for it made his argument moot. Althos felt somewhat grumpy with the entire situation.

He hated snow. Having traveled to all the far corners of the empire, the warrior monk hated the North the most. The lowlands were picturesque but the highlands were always cold to him. Dressed in the heavier clothing of the mountain people and sitting within the tent for the Lady Al-Uzza, priestess of Julara and emissary of the Empress, Althos figured he'd have been warmer. But a cold draft snuck under the edges of the tent to curl about him as he sat near the door flap. He had a heavy cloak wrapped around him but even that did little to make him feel truly warm.

Al-Uzza looked over at Althos. "How long is it until daylight?" she asked, stretching her hands towards the brazier near her.

"It is the fourth watch of the night. Dawn comes soon. I see you did not rest well. You were fitful and nearly rolled into the brazier at one point," Althos answered in his gravelly voice. Al-Uzza looked over at him. "What did you dream of, my Lady?" he asked solemnly, "It has long been held that our dreams are where the gods speak to us. It may be that Julara has given you some knowledge about what we are facing."

Al-Uzza scoffed. "It is more likely indigestion from those biscuits," she said, "My dreams made no sense." Althos tipped his head slightly to the left as he looked up at Al-Uzza. The big woman seemed larger by the light of the brazier. Her sense of presence suddenly was imposing and Althos felt a chill go down his spine that had nothing to do with the cold weather. Al-Uzza was changing. It was a slow transformation but she was moving from the luxury obsessed chief librarian to something more.

"Lady Al-Uzza of the North, your city awaits you under siege. Your sleep on the eve of coming into sight of that land may speak of portents. I am not merely a foot soldier in Ashur's army. I too have been trained to read the sand mirror. I was taught to read the earth and the sky for signs. As a boy, I was explaining how dreams had meaning to adults. That was why the brothers militant came and took me from my parents. Word had come to them from my village that I had the knowledge of a grown man at the age of ten winters. Speak, my Lady. I shall read the signs for you and tell you what awaits us today."

Al-Uzza considered what Althos said. She hadn't realized that the monk was something of a seer. It made sense, however, considering that they had been sent with a sand mirror. There had to be a seer to read it properly. "I dreamt of two birds. They fought in the air above me. One had great black wings and one was golden. The golden bird struck the black one from above and blood streamed down to fall over my face, more blood than was ever in any bird. And yet, I was not blinded. I could see clearly how the the black bird flew away with a trail of blood falling to the earth behind it as the golden bird wheeled around in the sky over me. So, tell me, monk, what would that mean to you?" she cautiously said.

"The gods are at war. Ashur strikes at the foreign god. The blood of that god shall fall upon you as they retreat away from the empire. You shall see the path to that god's lands and the way through their lies. But it will come with a heavy cost. Ashur's blessing, however, shall remain upon you," Althos said.

"You speak of Ashur's blessing but I am a daughter of Julara, not Ashur," Al-Uzza said warily. Althos looked up at her.

"You are changing," Althos said, "This land changes people. Some it drives mad. Others it drives deeper into themselves. Ashur's hand lies upon you and is shaping you for what is to come. The blood of the alien god will wash away the blessing of Julara, leaving behind only Ashur's will. It may have been better that you were forgotten in the library, my Lady. Your ambition is bringing you to a place you will never return from, even as you go back to the imperial city. Ashur has daughters. They are anointed in blood, not water. He lays claim to you. War comes with you, my Lady, and your hand shall bear a sword."

The wrath of Ashur (A Dacia's War short)

Sorenan stood in the center of the arena. His sandy colored hair was bound back in a braid that snaked over his shoulders as he turned his head to watch his opponent. He bore the Sword of Ashur. He was one of the two sword-bearers. Where the Emperor wore his Sword as a ceremonial thing, Sorenan carried his openly. Bearing the god-weapon was a heavy duty but it marked him as the third of the prophecy. It showed the people of the Dacian Empire that he was the third star in the constellation associated with the union of Ashur and Julara, the holy gods of the Empire. No one knew for sure what the star meant, this was lost in the library and the head librarian gone to the North of the Empire as a newly minted priestess, none could find it or read it.

Sorenan's opponent was a sub-general who insisted that the Empress had broken faith with Julara and was no longer deserving of the honors of being high priestess of the faith or to be recognized as her living daughter upon the face of the world. The sub-general was a decorated military man. When General Zalaz learned that this man had spoken blasphemy that was being rumored in the North, the general despaired that he would have to report it to the Emperor. Zalaz came into the hall of the Emperor's council and found Marcos and Sorenan discussing the problem of the ongoing fighting in the South. Temna remained a major threat and the sub-general's blasphemy suggested that an internal threat was gaining strength. Marcos looked over at Zalaz and saw the general's look of dismay.

When he explained what happened and how he had taken the sub-general into custody, Marcos nodded. The Emperor looked over at the mercenary at his side. While the customary punishment for blasphemy was slitting the tongue and banishing the offended, he couldn't help but feel that an example had to be made of the sub-general. "Death by combat," Marcos said, his tone questioning. Sorenan nodded in agreement. "Tomorrow then," the Emperor of Dacia said. Zalaz let out a breath that he had been holding. "Let it be known through out the city that the Sword of Ashur metes out justice tomorrow at noontide." Zalaz nodded and looked sharply at a scribe. The scribe practically ran out of the room.

So it happened that Sorenan stood in the place that Emperors had stood in the past. The sub-general was a wiry man like Sorenan. The desert man did not wear the heavy armor of the guard. His armor was burnished brass that shone brightly in the brilliant sun, nearly blinding Sorenan with its gleam. The sub-general paced about the mercenary turned military advisor to the Emperor. As he took his measure of the man, Sorenan noted that he had a slight limp in his left leg. Like Sorenan, the sub-general bore a sword.

Deciding that he wasn't going to wait longer, as soon as the sub-general passed on his left, Sorenan attacked. In his black leather armor of the mountain people, the man was sweating heavily. He ignored the discomfort as he charged the sub-general, not even bothering for to reach for his sword. Sorenan slammed into the sub-general hard enough to knock him off his feet. They rolled across the ground, grappling with each other for a long moment.

Sorenan found his way to the top and delivered a mighty punch to the sub-general's right jaw. He could feel heat burning its way down through his arm as he threw that punch. It was just like when Ashur took over on the battlefield. That was his only warning that the world was about to slide sideways. Thrown out of his body by the angered god, Sorenan stood beside himself watching as his possessed body beat the sub-general with such force that his helmet was dented.

The sub-general somehow manage by some quirk of fate, or perhaps Ashur's desire to deliver yet more misery upon the one who had spoken blasphemy against the high priestess of his wife, to remain conscious. Ashur-Sorenan stood and kicked the sub-general in the ribs. The man rolled across the ground and got up onto his hands and knees. As the sub-general stood, there was the sound of birds calling in the air. He looked up and realized that eagles were circling above. Ashur-Sorenan drew the sword and it made a noise like metal tearing as it came free of the scabbard.

The leaf shaped sword shone with light and the sub-general raised his hand to shield his eyes. Ashur-Sorenan strode towards the sub-general who saw that Sorenan's typically leonine eyes had turned eagle gold and shone with light from within. The sub-general drew his sword and cast it away before he turned to flee. Ashur-Sorenan bellowed, "Stand, heretic!" It echoed like a thunder clap through the stadium. Where the city residents had been murmuring or chattering in anticipation of the gladitorial combat to begin in earnest, stunned silence filled the space. Compelled by the deity, the sub-general turned to face his doom.

"Observe the fate of all who profane the name of Julara's Daughter," Ashur-Sorenan boomed with that thunderous voice. The sub-general's eyes streamed with tears as he realized the extend of his folly. The sword swept through the air as the sub-general screamed. His tongue was slashed in half and a sharp line was cut across his face. As the burning sword moved away, the sky darkened to the point where Ashur-Sorenan seemed to glow on the red sand of the stadium floor despite the dark armor. Then the eagles descended. Screams of horror came as thousands of birds swooped and ripped the man apart, their talons ripping through his armor as if it were merely linen. The man was lifted and dropped several times through the cacophony of eagle cries and their efforts. Ashur-Sorenan lifted his right arm and an eagle covered in blood landed on his wrist as the others flew off to what ever strange place they had come from.

Laying on the ground before him was the barely living ruins of the sub-general. His eyes had been pecked out. His face had been shredded by talon and beak, as had the rest of him. He seemed a quivering lump of meat. The cries of horror in the crowd had dropped down to whimpering and weeping as Ashur-Sorenan walked up to what had once been a man. The burning sword came down and Sorenan found himself back within his body. Beside him, though none but him could see him, stood Ashur.

"Go North," Ashur said, "Quell the uprising. The Lady of the North has opened the way.:

Dacia's War: Part 30 - Rain and Snow

Lady Al-Uzza was awakened as the first edges of gloaming limned the horizon. She was mildly annoyed but then remembered that it was better to awaken early to surprise a possible miscreant than arrive at Acidavia in the middle of a coup. Iona moved about the chamber silently. As she adjusted her bundle of goods and considered the supplies given by Lady Sindal, Iona was calculating the chances the weather was going to get ugly.

Unlike the desert born priestess, the acolyte recognized the sharpness she scented in the air. "My Lady," Iona said quietly to Al-Uzza as she sat up. Al-Uzza looked over. "The air has a bite to it. It is more than the mountain's usual quality. It would be wise to wear the garments that your Sister provided us. Al-Uzza squinted in the gloom and realized that Iona was already dressed in what looked suspiciously like man's array. Though Al-Uzza had a blanket wrapped around her, she could feel something of the chill that the younger woman spoke of.

"It will pass, as it always does when the shield of Ashur rises above the horizon," Al-Uzza muttered. Iona did not move or comment. She simply stood at Al-Uzza's bed head and waited. With a groan, Al-Uzza shook her head and grudgingly swung her feet over the edge of the bed. "What are the lands of your birth, maid?" Al-Uzza asked, wondering just what Iona knew that she didn't of the lands they were in. Iona gestured towards the shuttered window. "Mountain born?" Al-Uzza said and Iona nodded. With a shake of the head, Al-Uzza restrained the urge to mutter something unpleasant and decided that humoring the mountain people may be the best way to cozen her way into getting what she wanted.

Iona helped Al-Uzza with the unfamiliar leg wrappings and the strange breeches. Where Iona's garments ranged from white to a tawny color, Al-Uzza's was a deep blue that was nearly indigo. If she had the light, Al-Uzza would have noticed the leg wrappings were embroidered with prayers just as the swaddling bands of children were embroidered, though the embroidery was the same color of the rest of the fabric. A heavy coat that was like a gown was worn over the two layers of long tunics that had been provided for her. Iona's garments were closer to the body and allowed greater freedom of movement. Prim Al-Uzza wasn't pleased with it because she felt it revealed too much for the male gaze but she recognized that the warrior-nun who had been sent as her assistant was as much in need of freedom of motion as any other warrior.

At least, Al-Uzza thought, Iona's hair was not bared to be profaned with the lustful gazes of lesser creatures. The two women were dressed in the traditional traveling garb of the north. Their heads were covered with fur lined hoods, with linen gauze wound beneath against the scalp to wick away sweat and help keep them warm. Embroidered coats, mittens, and leg wrappings covered them well to ward off the cold. Thick stockings in heavy boots with expensively carved wooden soles protected their feet. Al-Uzza found herself uncomfortable as she started to move around the room. "This is too much," she stated abruptly, moving to take off the hood.

There was a knock at the door. "My Lady," spoke a gravely voice that made Al-Uzza's teeth grate, "The party is ready to leave at dawn. We await you." Althos had been an irritant to Al-Uzza for the entire journey but he had been also very useful. Al-Uzza disliked the warrior-monk but had to admit they were entering a situation where a battle seasoned warrior like him would be necessary. It was said that he was at the battle of the Black Sands and had acquitted himself with proper honor as per his order. Al-Uzza assumed this meant that he slaughtered a good number of the enemies of the empire. She did her best to ignore Althos's conversations with the company of guards that had been sent with her. She disliked men and found their company tiresome. All their focus seemed to be upon proving their prowess and potency in all areas they could. Al-Uzza felt that men were like children in need of a stern hand to guide them. And she had no patience for children.

Caught up in her bitter contemplation, Al-Uzza found herself less annoyed with the fur of the hood brushing against her face. Allowing some of that sharpness to seep into her tone, Al-Uzza said, "We must first break our fast." Iona coughed softly. On the other side of the door, Al-Uzza was sure that Althos was giving the carved wood his best glare.

"My Lady had said that haste was necessary," Althos replied in what almost sounded like a rebuke, "Was I in error to assemble the company to ride at dawn? Shall we leave at midday and camp along the road in the night?" Al-Uzza ground her teeth. She stalked to the door and opened it to find Althos dressed in heavy garb as well. She was mildly annoyed that his head was covered with a knitted cap, for some petty part of her had hoped his bald head would be chilled in the day's ride and ache as hers had for his sake.

Al-Uzza looked over at Iona and discovered that her secretary was fully ready to begin her journey. Al-Uzza's hope of lingering just a little longer over something savory and satisfying with the exotic herbs of the mountains in it disappeared as the reality of the situation reasserted itself. With a sigh, she walked out into the corridor and found that the aged Erlion was waiting at Althos's side. "A message in the mirror?" she asked. Erlion nodded. "Where is Lady Sindal and Governor Decebal?"

"They await you in the chamber," Erlion said, "I was instructed to inform you about the message in the mirror." Al-Uzza made an impatient gesture as Erlion began to walk towards the great hall and the corridor to the chamber of the sand mirror. She gave a sigh of exasperation as Erlion spoke about how the night's watch was only the signs of the movement of Althos's presumed snake. "Just earlier," Erlion said as they crossed the great hall, "The movements of the snake went still. It lies as though coiled and awaiting to strike. Then it twisted violently. After this, a series of signs were drawn in the mirror that I do not recognize."

Al-Uzza ground her teeth. What use was a sand mirror and one to read it if they could not read the mirror, she mentally grumbled. When they reached the chamber of the sand mirror, Decebal was waiting outside of it with a parchment scroll in hand. Al-Uzza saw that he looked solemn and perhaps disturbed. Al-Uzza walked into the sand mirror chamber and found Sindal waiting beside the mirror. Al-Uzza noted that sand was on the floor. She knew that sand from the mirror should always remain in the bowl and that it didn't leave it unless the bowl was disturbed or something disturbed the bowl it was attuned to.

"Lady Al-Uzza, perhaps your experience as a librarian and as our Serene Highness's secretary may allow you to read the mirror. These are signs that we have not seen before," Sindal said. Al-Uzza frowned at the mention of her past positions but put the perceived insult aside to look into the mirror. As she looked in it, her blood went cold. It was a series of glyphs from the ancient texts. It was unknown to most of the priestly orders except for the librarians and the silent sisters of Julara. It read that someone was killing the priestesses of Julara within the city and was a warning for the brothers militant of Ashur's wrath to come in disguise. After a few moments, the sand moved as though a hand wiped the mirror clean. Dawn threatened on the horizon.

"We must leave immediately," Al-Uzza said with a tone of uncharacteristic urgency and concern. She looked over at Althos. "You are war-leader of this party but you must be as one of the mercenaries," she continued before turning to Iona, "What ever weapons you require must be provided, there is a murderer in Acidavia who is killing preistesses and servants of our Lady." The collective silence in the room annoyed Al-Uzza. The word that someone would dare to do such a profane act was scandalous at the very least.

"Go," Al-Uzza snapped tarly at Iona, "Fetch the tools of your trade if you don't have them now." Inoa gave a sharp nod, turned on her heel, and walked out of the chamber. Sindal opened her mouth to say something when Al-Uzza fixed her with a stern look. "We are in deep water, Sister Sindal," Al-Uzza said firmly, "Someone must send a message to the Empress of this. If it is happening within Acidavia, it is happening farther north. It is the only explanation why we have sisters missing."

Al-Uzza recalled Sorenan's report to the empress of slaughters in the north in the wilder lands. Though Al-Uzza hadn't a battle master's gift of experience or strategy craft, she put the facts together quickly. "You must turn away the refugees until I send you a message that it is safe for them to come within your city. There may be malcontents among them or people sympathetic to the people beyond the empire."

Althos watched Al-Uzza with a mixture of surprise and satisfaction. He had thought she was going to be as useful as any administrative official on a long walk, complaining about the weather and such. While she had been to this point, Althos was pleasantly surprised that she was competent in figuring out plans for how to handle a problem on the fly. Althos followed Al-Uzza and Sindal into the corridor beyond the antechamber. A weary Erlion sat down on his stool and watched them leave.

Decebal held out the scroll to Al-Uzza. Althos overheard him explaining that the terrain was not as kind as the map made it seem and that the weather on the higher elevations was fickle. As the party walked into the great hall, Decebal explained that the risk of raiders had been greater since the troubles had begun in the far northern parts of the region and he wasn't sure what the risk of the party being attacked was. A palanquin was to be provided for Al-Uzza and Iona until they reached the first way point along the route. After this, horses bred for mountain travel were to be provided for them. Althos watched how Al-Uzza single mindedly marched towards the corridor that lead out to the great square of the city. He suspected that she was ignoring Decebal and such did his bet to put to memory what he could over hear of the governor's words.

Al-Uzza reaches the steps down to the square and finds a group of approximately thirty warriors awaiting them. She also found a quartet of burly servants waiting with the palanquin. Along with the warriors, there were pack animals with supplies for the journey. Al-Uzza looked over at Sindal. "Speed is at the essence," she said, "These beasts will slow us down." Sindal shook her head. As the first patter of rainfall began, Al-Uzza looked up at the sky from where the portico sheltered her. "Our Lady blesses our work this day," the librarian turned priestess said. Sindal wasn't as sure that the rain was a sign of Julara's blessing as much of coming snow.

"Sister Al-Uzza, you are of the low lands. Your journeys are quicker because the mountains are not your enemy. Take the beasts with you. They will serve you well in the coming days." Al-Uzza wasn't sure how she felt about the cross between a factual and a pleading tone in Sindal's voice. With a slight sigh of frustration she nodded.

The party looked up at the priestesses on the portico. "Go, Sister," Sindal said, "I shall speak the blessing of travel over you." Al-Uzza nodded and went to the palanquin. One of the large men opened the wooden door. As she stepped in, she found Iona waiting for her. The servant shut the door and Al-Uzza could hear Sindal's prayer for their safe travel through the door, albeit muffled. Thick blankets sat folded on each of the two seats within the palanquin. Iona sat with one across her lap. Al-Uzza followed Iona's example and settled her own on her legs. With a rocking motion, the palanquin was lifted and set upon the bearer's shoulders. The mercenaries and soldiers of the empire surrounded them as a few servants lead the beasts of burden behind them.

A cold and driving rain pattered on the roof of the palanquin. Al-Uzza was thankful for the shelter it provided as she unrolled the scroll that Decebal had given her. She handed it to Iona. "Tell me, mountain girl, where are we on this?" Iona pointed at a dot on the map and did some calculations in her head as she considered the possible routes they were taking to Acidavia. She moved her finger to a position slightly farther away. Despite the blankets over their legs and the shelter of the palaquin, Al-Uzza and Iona could feel things getting colder. "The first way station?" Al-Uzza asked, as the bearers set the palanquin down again. The first time, they had all paused at sunrise to break their fast. Hardtack and watered wine was unpleasant to Al-Uzza but she was more concerned with the idea that the library at Acidavia was being compromised. It was a library that she was familiar with, one of the largest ones in the north of the empire. Priceless books and scrolls resided there. She had no doubts that the persons killing priestesses and acolytes would have no hesitation to burn it to the ground.

A knock sounded on the door of the palanquin. Al-Uzza slid aside the small wooden door that covered an eyeslit. She saw Althos waiting with something white upon him. She was confused. Still, when Althos said that they had finally reached the point where the priestess and her secretary had to give up the palanquin, Al-Uzza didn't mind much. Her legs were somewhat cramped from sitting for so long and she desired to breathe air that didn't feel quite so stale. When she stepped out of the palanquin into the snow, she was entirely confused. She had thought that with the silence that the weather had cleared. The rain that was present at midday when they had stopped for a meal was far lighter but colder than she had expected. The silence that came not long afterwards to the desert woman meant that the skies had cleared.

Iona stepped out of the palanquin after Al-Uzza and looked at the snow with an expression of annoyance. It had been several hours and there was now several inches of the white fluffy stuff on the ground. She looked up the mountain and wondered how much deeper the snow was. If they were luck, this was the first real snow fall and the paths would be clear. Sturdy horses were provided for Al-Uzza and Iona. The leader of the mercenaries considered the few other horses provided. Deciding with Althos that it was better to use them to lead the pack animals up the hill and as alternate mounts for the women, he walked along side them. Althos walked at Al-Uzza's left, discreetly taking the bridle of the horse in hand to guide it over the terrain. To her right, rode Iona and then the leader of the mercenary party was beside her.

The quiet conversations around them became even more hushed as the terrain became more challenging and the sun began to sink lower in the sky. Althos proposed they stop and set up camp before it got colder and while they still had the sun. Al-Uzza listened to his experience and agreed. She and Iona watched as the party of soldiers set up a camp with brisk efficiency that belied their experience with such things. Althos had the soldiers that were send with them at the center of the encampment about the pavilion set up for Al-Uzza and Iona. After a short time, a few blazing fires were going and people huddled around them for warmth and to cook their evening meal. Within the pavilion, a pair of braziers were burning to heat the space. Al-Uzza and Iona found the sparse accommodations of the pavilion to be only slightly more of an improvement over the palanquin. Al-Uzza gave Althos a glare as he stepped into the pavilion.

"This is not your place, monk," she said in a snippish tone.

"My place is the guard you. Thus, I am here at the door." Al-Uzza huffed with annoyance. Iona fixed them a small meal of dried fruit, dried meat, and yet more hardtack. Al-Uzza restrained the urge to mutter about her fare. She reminded herself that the comforts of civilization awaited them a little farther up the road. When it was time for her to retire for the night, she found Althos and Iona discussing something. Iona made a few emphatic gestures as she whispered at him. Althos's gravelly voice was slightly louder as he said, "We are going to take turns keeping watch. That's the end of the discussion. I trust my men with your lives but I don't trust them. Bravos for hire can be turned with the promise of enough coin or prestige."

Dacia's War: Part 29 – A Whisper of Trechery

Al-Uzza thought about the mission she had been given by the Empress. "What are these rumors that you have heard?" she asked. Sindal folded her hands primly before herself and had a look of long suffering cross her face for a moment at the question. "If I have learned anything, it is that sometimes a rumor holds greater truth than the speaker realizes," Al-Uzza said in a matter of fact tone, "For the rumors to have reached your ear, they must have been significant. Which makes them quite likely to be more than a mere rumor. Either they are fact or deliberate misinformation."

Decebal absentmindedly rubbed his jaw with the back of his left hand. "The most egregious of them is that Govenor Bastizia intends to give the city over to the invaders from the high reaches. They say that he strangled his wife and murdered their son." Sindal shook her head slightly. Decebal shrugged. "Others say that the son murdered his parents and intends to turn the city over to the invaders. None of the people coming have seen Bastizia but they are the lowest of the low. They'd have no place in the govenor's palace."

"And yet you have spoken to them," Al-Uzza said mildly. Sindal set a restraining hand on her husband's wrist before he spoke. Al-Uzza watched this with some interest. "Lady Sindal, what news have you heard through the whispers of the priestly orders?" Sindal glanced briefly at the acolyte in white. "I have come to make inquiry into this matter, not to place on display her Serene Highness's acolyte, it would be wise to answer the question. And, for that matter, why is it that Erlion has not attended this meal and council?"

"Brother Erlion watches the sand mirror for news of Acidavia. Strange things have been imprinted in the mirror and he has been attempting to interpret them." Sindal answered. "I can not read the mirror but even I was alarmed when the sand cast itself out of the bowl when Sarben fell."

"The sand of the mirrors is delicate and sensitive to many things. Was the bowl disturbed in any fashion or a breath of air through the room?" Al-Uzza asked, finding herself thankful that her time as a librarian and secretary meant that she had some familiarity with the magical communication devices of the priests of Ashur.

"Lady Al-Uzza, the bowl was undisturbed and the air was still. The sand lifted up and then cast itself out as though the bowl was thrown to the ground," Sindal said. Al-Uzza squinted at her. "Come, I shall show you the mirror chamber. Perhaps Erlion has learned something from the movement of the sands. Or perhaps brother Althos can help read the sands." Decebal nodded in agreement with his wife's decision.

"Then he can tell you what he has seen. As for the poor, their rumors reach me because I walk the city. Sometimes in disguise and sometimes with the guard but I walk the city daily as a consitutional and to measure her health. Midloth is a small city, I can make the circuit by midday on a busy day and still conduct business. I take different routes through different neighborhoods. The wealthy are quick to pay homage, the merchants are quick to offer goods, and the poor are quick to speak."

"Most unusual, Govenor Decebal," Al-Uzza said, "I had not heard of such a custom before." She and her party followed Sindal and Decebal through a small doorway and down a corridor. Two doors stood at either side of the corridor. One opened on to a monk's cell. That door stood partly open. Al-Uzza glanced briefly in and could dimly see a desk piled with parchement beside a cot.

Sindal opened the closed door and gestured Al-Uzza and her party in. For a moment, Al-Uzza questioned if this were an elborate trap of some kind. Iona, the acolyte of the Silent Sisters who stood right behind her, coughed softly. Al-Uzza gave a small sigh, resettled her veil on her shoulders, and stepped through the doorway. Beyond the door there was an antechamber with curtains hanging across the second doorway. "Brother Erlion, what have you seen this day?" Sindal asked as she approached the curtained door way and the others entered the room. They could see the glow of torches beyond the fabric of the curtain but the antechamber was gloomy and dark, especially after the door to the corridor was shut.

Once the door into the corridor was shut, Sindal parted the curtains and passed through. As Al-Uzza followed, she realized that Decebal remained in the antechamber. Iona and Althos passed into the chamber behind Al-Uzza. Brother Erlion was a gnarled looking man of some age. She was surprised he was the one to watch the mirror for the last person she had seen so stooped with age was blind. He leaned heavily on a cane as he walked around the bowl on a pedastal. The bowl was black obsidion, known by the common people as dragon's glass. Within it, Al-Uzza knew would be a layer of black sand from the distant sands where the bowl had been fashioned. The four torches in the room threw a lurid light that glinted on the sand.

A line moved in the sand squirming left then right. As it reached the edge of the bowl, it turned and circled the bowl. Though no hands touched the sand, it moved of its on accord tracing shapes as though something were moving over the sand. Al-Uzza knew that the sand mirrors were attuned to each other and that which was done to the first would be reflected in the second. Thus, she watched the ceaseless movement in the sand mirror with some confusion.

Althos looked at the mirror. "That's no human hand," he grunted. Erlion looked over at him. "It's a snake. Where are you viewing?" Althos continued.

"Acidavia, of course," said Erlion.

"Someone has put a snake into the sand mirror and covered it. It is a trapped animal making these signs." Althos said.

"What makes you so sure of that?" Al-Uzza asked, looking expectantly at the monk.

"Because if I were going to kill the brother watching the mirror, that's what I'd do," Althos answered, "When did this start?"

"This morning," Erlion said, "Perhaps an hour after you signed that you were moving towards us."

"Were there signs in the mirror before then?" Althos asked. Erlion shook his head.

"Wait," said Sindal, "The sands moved as though someone was brushing away a message at dawn."

"Was there anything there before dawn?" Erlion sighed and shrugged.

"You were sleeping, at a time like now?" Althos said indignantly.

"I am but one man, one old man." Erlion sighed, "My apprentice went away to the war of the south." Althos swore.

"You believe someone wrote a message late at night and another person erased it before putting a serpent in the bowl and covering it?" Al-Uzza asked. Althos gestured towards the bowl. "Then it may be that Acidavia is compromised already," Al-Uzza said with a sour expression.

"Perhaps, but perhaps they haven't moved yet. Because the bowl continues to show signs of the serpent's presence." Sindal said in a hesitantly hopeful tone.

"We must leave tomorrow for Acidavia," Al-Uzza said briskly, "And a company of strong soldiers must come with us."

"I haven't the men to spare," Decebal said morosely.

"The Empire demands it, Govenor," Al-Uzza replied sharply. Decebal was silent. Sindal looked at Al-Uzza with an inscruitable expression.

After a long moment, she said, "We can not send away the city guard. There are, however, bravos for hire."

"Your coin pays for it," Al-Uzza said in a flat tone. Sindal gave a small nod.

"Althos, go with their messenger tonight and make sure they are sturdy," Al-Uzza said to the monk as she turned her gaze upon him. "Tomorrow morn, you may find yourself a war leader rather than a companion."

"How far is it to Acidavia?" Al-Uzza demanded, warming to the idea of bringing a company of soldiers to mete out the Empress's justice.

"A day's ride, if you push your horses and the weather's fair," Decebal answered.

"Julara's mercy is with us. It will be a day's ride regardless of the weather," Al-Uzza answered.

Dacia's War: Part 28 – False Serenity

Lady Al-Uzza's discomfort was soothed away by Decebal's almost flattering presentation of honor. She sat at his right hand and was offered the choicest selections of the meal. At his left, his wife, Lady Sindal sat and chattered on about the various mundane details of the business of the priesthood in Midloth. Decebal interjected comments about the business of running the city but generally focused his attention on Althos for news of the war raging to the south.

The heavy set woman found her desire to comfort herself met by the exotic banquet of fruit, fowl, and other fare. The spice laden meal was not as rich as what she thought it would be but it was greater than the sparse meals she had grown accustomed to as a lowly secretary. She could eat and when she finished her first course a second appeared shortly there after. Al-Uzza decided that perhaps if she just focused on her food and waited, Decebal and Sindal would continue their prating until the meal was finished and she could go rest.

Instead, there were awkward pauses in conversation where Al-Uzza was in the middle of eating something and was expected to have something to say. There was times where Al-Uzza commented on the food when the conversation had gone quiet instead of adding something worthwhile. In whole, she proved herself to be a poor guest and a boor. Decebal marveled at this awkward, large woman's presence and questioned what reason she was sent north under priestess black. He tried desperately to figure out what Al-Uzza could possibly have to offer and quietly despaired while watching her eagerly eat everything put before her.

After the final course had been set for the meal, Decebal clapped his hands three times. This nonverbal command told his household to clear away the meal and secure the room for important business was to be conducted. As the servants took away the platters and bowls, Al-Uzza managed to restrain a small belch of satisfaction with finally being able to eat as much as made her content with out having to go through the work of bullying junior secretaries for portions of their meal. "You set an excellent table," Al-Uzza sighed. Decebal frowned. Sindal looked at Al-Uzza with something like disgust for a moment.

"What is your purpose for coming north, Lady Al-Uzza?" Sindal asked bluntly. Al-Uzza blinked with surprise. She had not anticipated a younger priestess to speak to her in such a tone. She had gotten used to the idea that as an elder secretary, she was treated with deference. Now, she discovered that this woman who was at least twenty years her junior spoke with boldness and bluntess she was unfamiliar with. "At last I knew, Al-Uzza was the Empress's head secretary. Now you are here in priestess black instead of librarian grey. I doubt that the Empress has need of a secretary conducting a census or learning what manner of delicacies are served in the North. What are you truly here about?"

Al-Uzza colored at Sindal's words but the look from the silent sister in white told her that her every word was being measured and quite possibly reported back to the Empress herself. "Govenor Bastzia has sent word south of the troubles facing him. News has come to her Serene Highness that there are those who would move against the order of the Lady and all who have pledged themselves to Her," Al-Uzza answered. Sindal's look of mistrust eased somewhat.

"Yes," the ranking priestess of Midloth said, "There is a movement of malcontents. They have been quelled in Midloth but they are still present. As you travel north, you will find yourself at the risk of encountering them. I would advise you to travel as I do, within a litter. They will think you only a wealthy traveler. Given the armed company that travels with you, I think they will be sufficient to keep you safe. There are those who believe that Julara is a false goddess and then there are those who believe that her Daughter has broken faith rather than fulfilled prophecy."

"And what do you believe?" Al-Uzza asked. Sindal looked at Decebal and to the acolyte in white. She gave a small sigh and turned her gaze back to Al-Uzza.

"Julara is our Mother. She provides the rivers and green fields that nourish us. Her Daughter is her presence in the world. All that she has done is holy and in her Mother's name. It is not my place to question our Serene Highness and her judgment. I am but her servant in all things." Al-Uzza nodded with a smile on her face that would possibly have been reassuring to someone less experienced. Sindal, who had become accustomed to the courtiers of Midloth attempting to connive her saw something of that in Al-Uzza's nearly pleasant expression. "I assume that you also hold this to be true," Sindal said mildly. Decebal shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Althos coughed to cover up a noise of surprise.

"As do all of the priesthood who have been blessed to serve our Mother and the lower orders," Al-Uzza said in an equally bland tone with her expression fixed in the falsely pleasant smile, "I am honored but remain a humble servant of our dear Lady. Glory is for the vain when the true joy is in our work." Sindal made a noise that Al-Uzza suspected was of disbelief but she was unsure. Instead of continuing to cross verbal swords with the younger yet more experienced priestess, Al-Uzza chose to focus on the matter of the malcontented. "You tell me that Midloth had quelled these upstarts. In what number did they make their presence known? Did they have aid from the outsiders?"

Decebal let out a breath he had been holding. He had expected his lady wife to get into an argument with the emissary of the Empress given her short temper for dissembling and decietful people. Relieved that the argument was not going to happen, Decebal turned to Al-Uzza. "They were not many. Only a small riot broke out in the market. The city gaurd put it down quickly and the instigators were all caught. When brought before us for judgment, they claimed that her Serene Highness had inverted the true order of things. It was heresy, plain and simple. The usual punishment was meted out."

Al-Uzza nodded. The punishment of heretics was the splitting of the tongue. It was harsh but served as a very visual reminder that they were serpents emboided. It was a mark of shame and the punished often found themselves ostricized. Al-Uzza had witnessed such punishment as a young village witch when a man who thought himself better than his wife was judged as wanting. His tongue was slit and his wife divorced him. He was cast out of the village and never seen again. Al-Uzza was sure that the man's arrogance was what lead him to think he could punish her for attending the market with out his supervision. He had come from a family of similar attitudes but they had never so openly touted them.

Caught in the memory, Al-Uzza almost missed when Decebal spoke about the outsiders. "They come from the high peaks. Usually it is to trade but the parties have come now seeking refuge. I have given them the land beyond the wall on the northern side. They stay in their village and pay honor to the Empire. But more of them are coming. The first arrivals had brought children with them and were in good health. They who come now are unwell. Some gravely injured and no children come with them. They speak of a great beast. It is unclear if this is a creature or a man that troubles them. And of an army that travels with this beast."

Decebal gestured towards Althos. "I have asked the brothers militant to request aid. I can only assume that your coming will help answer this question. News has been hard to get from the Govenor. Word has come that his Lady has died. Some say it was murder. I would believe it if the stories that I have heard are true. The city of Acidavia struggles because she is close to the border. Villages north have been razed to the ground. Bastizia has called for aid multiple times over the last few years. Since war broke out to the south, I have been unable to help him."

"Acidavia is cursed, they say," Decebal muttered, looking down at the table before him, "I know not if it is true. I do know, however, Acidavia has begun to have people leave her. They are not refugees for the city still stands. But any who is wise know that rats will flee a burning building at the first sign of smoke. The poor of Acidavia have come to Midloth. We have given them work, to the north is the beginnings of another wall. But I do not know if it will be ready when Acidavia meets Sarben's fate."

Dacia's War: Al-Uzza's bane.

The rain that Althos had predicted started falling as they reached the gates of Midloth. The setting sun turned the eastern sky aflame with a ruddy colored rainbow over the city. Lady Al-Uzza would have been less annoyed if the rain had waited after they were indoors to start. The desert god's warrior, however, did prove himself reasonably accurate with his estimate of when the rain would fall. Under the pretext of providing the priestess greater security as they moved away from the village, Althos rode at her side and subtly encouraged her to hasten. If the priestess was as clever as she thought she was, she may have realized what Althos was doing.

Instead, she found herself anxious over the idea of brigands and lawless wild people as Althos began telling stories on the ride to 'entertain' her. As the ground grew more uneven and moved higher, so it was that Lady Al-Uzza, priestess of Julara the blessed Rain Mother, found herself envisioning awful things happening if the raider or the escaped prisoners of Governor Bastizia, whom she was sure had a lax grip upon his domain. Why else, she thought, did it happen that his own wife was murdered?

As they entered into the small city, Althos looked about. He stood up in the saddle and pointed down a road. There, Lady Al-Uzza could see something of a city square. As per imperial decree, the eastern side of the square would be the governor's palace and the home of the priestesses of Julara. The southern side of the square would be the home of the priests of Ashur. And the garrison would be upon the western side. The northern side would be where imperial business was conducted and the business of the domain. The noise of the city if Midloth comforted the priestess for it reminded her of Dacia, the heart of the empire itself. When they reached the great square of the city and passed through the archway of the second gate, Lady Al-Uzza noted with surprise there was but one wall surrounding the governor's palace and the holy places there making a total of two walls of protection.

The great square was not a place of serene order as in Dacia city. Because Midloth was a smaller place, the market was set up in the great square. Lady Al-Uzza scowled a bit at the straw piled for sale near the gatehouse. When the party passed through the ring of market stalls that were closing up for the day, they entered into a smaller square at the center of the great square of the city made by that double ring of ramshackle stalls. People stopped and stared at them. They had not seen such a company come into their city before. A man walked down the wide staircase that came from the portico of the governor's palace. Behind him came another who was older but not as aged as Lady Al-Uzza expected.

The pair walked up to the party. They bowed before Lady Al-Uzza. The first man, who was armed with a curving sword unlike what she had ever seen before, bowed deeply where as the second gave a very short bow. "My Lady, you honor our city with your presence. If we had known of your journey, we would have sent outriders to greet you and accompany you. If I may be so bold, for what reason have you come to my domain?" the older man said. Lady Al-Uzza blanched beneath her sodden veil.

"It is by her Serene Highness that I go north to bring aid and counsel to Govenor Bastizia," she answered. The man nods slightly and adjusts his cloak slightly as rain began to fall harder.

"Midloth will gladly shelter my Lady's party and supply you for the journey north. Has there been any news of the business in the sands?" the ruler of the city said as he took hold of the reins of Al-Uzza's mount. She glanced over at Althos. The man arched an eyebrow. "I see this is a discussion that requires some privacy," he said, "Grent, make sure that these people are well cared for. Send word to Erlion that his brother has arrived." Althos dismounted and respectfully bowed to the subconsularis of the region. He then assisted Al-Uzza with her dismount.

"The evening meal is prepared, for Erlion had spoken of your arrival after consulting the sand mirror," the Lord Decebal said, "Let us dry off and attend it. There after, we shall speak of business." Lady Al-Uzza found herself annoyed that Decebal had the presumption to make plans for her but was too busy feeling more annoyed that her garb was steadily being soaked through by now driving rain.

"Yes, let us do so," she said, struggling to figure out Decebal's name. As the party moved off to their separate locations, Al-Uzza, Althos, and the grey robed Iona walked with Decebal. "Lord ..." Al-Uzza started when Iona, who was at her back whispered his name very quietly, "Decebal, has the business of the north reached your gates?" Decebal shook his head.

"Refugees come from time to time, but right now we are secure. Three day's hard ride north, we would find things different. Another three days, you will find Lord Bastizia's balwark is threatened. We have answered his call for aid as best we may but we are bound to serve the Empire first," Decebal replied. He sounded exhausted.

"All must serve the Empire," Al-Uzza said, "But their Serene Highness would see the North secure and well. So we have come to render aid as we may." Decebal thought about the party that Al-Uzza arrived with. The warriors seemed hardy enough but this was nothing more than a small squadron at best. He found himself hoping the stories about the witches and their powers were true. For if the black and grey clad women had the ability to rain hail down upon the enemy it could be the beginnings of something hopeful. He kept this thought to himself.

Althos found himself growing angrier with each word that Al-Uzza said. He knew she was putting words in the mouth of the Empress and Emperor. He knew that she had no interest in what Decebal said and likely was thinking it was simply idle talk. "My Lady," Althos said smoothly, "we do not wish to trouble your sweet voice more than necessary. The cold does not suit you, as you had said earlier. Perhaps after a warm meal it would be a better time to speak of such weighty matters, giving your voice a chance to rest."

"A brother of Ashur learned in medicine?" Decebal said with surprise. Althos bowed slightly. "The warriors truly have learned more than I thought they did in my youth," Decebal chuckled.

"I would but aspire to his Lordship's wisdom," Althos replied. Decebal laughed. They stood before a room with a fire burning that was small but quite warm. Robes were laid out for them. Deep blue for Al-Uzza, white for Iona, and red for Althos. The robes for the priestess and acolyte of Julara were hooded. Althos looked at the hoods for a moment with longing as a chill breeze blew in the doors while they were closing and passed over his bare head. Decebal gestured towards the chamber.

"Towels also await you, my chamberlain insisted it was necessary. I did not know you were coming so far and were unaware of the coming weather. If you do not have heavy cloaks, they will be provided to you when you go farther north. By the time you reach Govenor Bastizia, the first snows will likely have fallen," Decebal, "A servant shall bring you to the feasting hall. You need only ring the bell."

Lady Al-Uzza stepped into the warmed room and noted with some alarm that there was nothing to shield herself from Althos's gaze. She looked at the hooded gowns and at the garb for Althos. "Step outside, Brother Althos," she demanded, "It is unseemly for a man to behold a woman unadorned."

"And yet, my Lady," Althos said dryly, "Her Serene Highness is beheld by two men unadorned many a time. And she has birthed a child. Indeed, the Empress herself is most holy but unafraid of the gaze of men. Sure her bondswoman has no such fears." Al-Uzza turned sharply on her heel and moving with more speed than he expected, she slapped him across the face with her left hand.

"You shall not sully the name of Julara's daughter by speaking of such filth," she hissed at him, "Leave my presence at once." Althos didn't move. As Al-Uzza made ready to strike him again, he caught her wrist. "Unhand me at once," she ordered the warrior-monk.

"Lord Decebal would be most surprised to see you missing your left hand," he replied. "One blow," he said, "One blow is all I'll allow. Upon any of our party. Harm anyone, I will personally see to it that the Empress and Emperor themselves learn of how hideously unfit you are for this task. Julara's mercy is kinder than your anger. Would you see her disdain? You've already insulted the Great Mother by demanding a woman great with child draw water for your horse. Even a priestess bows to a mother and asks blessing. The Empress herself had done so when she journeyed out to greet her Lion from calling on his distant kinsmen and passed through a village where a woman was due any day. Indeed, the Empress not only asked the mother's blessing upon her but helped deliver her child."

Al-Uzza glared at the man before her. "Let me go, monk," she said, "Your life lies in my hands."

"And yet I have possession of one, and your silent sister watches all. Try me, old woman," he replied, his grip tightening painfully on her wrist.

"Release me and this matter will be forgotten," Al-Uzza said, "Do not and I'll have Decebal divest you of your bald head. You haven't the protection of priesthood." Althos smiled. Something about that smile made Al-Uzza uncomfortable, more so than how quickly he caught her wrist. There was the suspicion that Althos allowed her to strike him, not that she had surprised him nibbling at the back of her mind. Althos opened his hand, holding his fingers splayed in a gesture much like one of giving mass blessing.

"I bow to the Lady's will, and shall await her in the corridor after I have donned more fitting garments," Althos said. He stepped back and gave a half bow before turning his back to her. Briskly and silently, he stripped off his sodden clothes and hung them upon the rack near the fire. Al-Uzza looked upon the shadow of his form as he moved, scowling with displeasure. Once he was dressed, he put on the slippers that his brother had sent with the garment and stepped out into the hallway. He stood at the doorway with his sword belt at his side in a very clear position of guarding said location.

"I like him not," Al-Uzza said when she finally began work on changing her garments, "Let his defiance this evening be noted." The large woman looked over at her silent companion. The sister's head had been closely shaved, marking her has a novice. Blond fuzz was over her scalp and she seemed to barely be into womanhood because of how undeveloped she appeared to Al-Uzza. "A child," Al-Uzza muttered with disgust wriggling into her gown, "A defiant, barbaric creature and a child. No wonder my civilizing hand is needed." The novice nun managed to maintain her vow of silence despite the priestess's scornful words. The nun carefully laid out the linen veils for herself and her mistress to dry before hanging up their gowns upon the rack. Al-Uzza had blue leather shoes lined with velvet to wear, soles that were surprisingly solid. The nun left her traveling sandals sitting where she had changed clothes and walked out of the room behind the priestess in bare feet.

Al-Uzza rang the bell and a servant scurried down the corridor. Al-Uzza glanced over at the nun walking at her left shoulder and realized that she was dressed in pure white, not grey. This was not a librarian in training, realized Al-Uzza. The nun at her side was a walking weapon and one who enforced the will of the Empress herself. A cold trickle of fear ran down Al-Uzza's spine at the realization that she had been deceived in something by the Empress. Only then did she realize that her being sent north was a test of loyalty, and if she was found wanting she'd meet Julara personally. Suddenly, impressing Decebal became far less important.

Serial Stories Update!

Hi folks!

The major depressive episode that was approximately a year long is finally gone. Unfortunately, I've rather lost the thread of where I was going with both of the stories. This week, I am in the process of back tracking through the past installments. My goals are to reestablish what the plot was that I had been working on and to build upon it to get things moving forward again.

It may sound odd but these two very different stories are connected. And they connect to the main stories of the Umbrel Chronicles. In fact, there are going to be two major characters from books six and seven showing up once I reach the place that it makes sense for it to happen. There will be some other easter eggs between the serial stories and the novels. This is something that I do have fairly clear recollection of planning on doing.

The challenge is to recover what the mechanics of said eggs was going to be. Right now, they're scrambled. They say you can't unscramble an egg. A chemist once told me that with sufficient resources, it would be entirely possible to do so by way of breaking protein bonds. Now, what does this have to do with my stories? Precious little, because advanced chemistry is not a thing yet in this fictional world. But, if it is possible to unscramble an egg with proper resources and time, it is possible for me to unscramble my plot lines too.

I do have one other thing to add to today's post. I want to apologize for how whiny Halthor has been. It wasn't my plan for him to be at that point, but the character is morphing. I am realizing that there are some deeper unresolved issues that he is going to be struggling with along side the original adventure/mischief of fate plot line. Hopefully, I will get a better handle on it and try to move Halthor from the 'teenage angst' position to 'struggling adult' position instead. Because he's not a youth and his personality was supposed to be more goal oriented and classic hero stature, with a few twists. This take on the Hero's Journey is not quite going as I planned.

Oh, before I forget, y'all are going to love to hate Al-Uzza. She is based on some individuals I have known in the past with their worst traits mashed into one person. But, don't worry, unlike some others in this universe, she is going to get exactly what she deserves for her malarkey.

Have a wonderful evening!

♥

Road to the North (Part XX VI)

Lady Al-Uzza was tired. The long hours of riding in the hot sun made her weary. She looked at Althos with something of envy. Somehow, the monk was cheerful and seemed to show no signs of discomfort for their travel. She ignored her secretary but suspected that the younger woman would be equally chipper. Althos laughed and joked with the guards. When a snake appeared in the path and his horse was spooked, the gravelly voiced monk laughed as he got the beast back under control. Then he dismounted, picked the serpent up, and tossed it aside calling after the creature that he wished it a swift journey. It brought some laughter from their companions. Al-Uzza, however, was not amused.

It was close to midday. They came to a village that the priestess did not think was large enough to support the few goats she saw milling about. The party stopped at the well in the center of the village. A woman drawing water looked up at them in surprise. When she saw Al-Uzza, she bowed deeply. "My Lady," she said, "may the Holy Mother bless you always." The woman's sudden, reflexive gesture of homage made Al-Uzza forget for a moment her discomfort.

She put on a benevolent smile and made a grand gesture of blessing. "And may you and your home be ever blessed, my child," she said, trying to sound as dignified and benevolent as possible. The woman did not straighten. She remained bowed and quietly asked how she may serve Al-Uzza. The priestess's smile turned to one of pleasure.

"Draw us water, my child, and all shall be as it must," she answered. Althos restrained the urge to scowl at Al-Uzza. The monk dismounted as the woman began drawing water up with her pail. He spoke to her in a small whisper. Then he began pulling water up from the well. As he poured it into the trough, the woman stood beside him with her hands clasped and her eyes lowered. When the trough was full of water, Al-Uzza began to motion her mount forward.

Althos stepped up and took hold of the bridle. "You must dismount so that the horse may rest," he whispered in his low voice. Al-Uzza's smile faltered. "May I assist you, my Lady," he said. Al-Uzza gave a nod. Althos's hands took of Al-Uzza's waist and he looked up at her. She awkwardly shifted her weight and Althos's expression turned to an inscruitable mask. "My Lady, if you would turn so that both of your feet are towards me, this would be most helpful," he muttered. Al-Uzza restrained the urge to huff in annoyance, deciding that it was more comfortable to be irritated with the man helping her than the fact that she had forgotten how to dismount a horse.

After an awkward moment, Althos successfully helped Al-Uzza to the ground. He lead her mount forward and began the business of getting it settled. Behind them, the rest of the party dismounted. The woman standing by the well began to draw water for the party when Althos turned to Al-Uzza. "My Lady," he said, "I ask that you allow this mother to rest." Al-Uzza squinted at the woman for a moment. There seemed to be a roundness to her belly that the priestess didn't note earlier. She made a dismissive gesture.

"Of course," Al-Uzza said, "And may our Lady bless you and your child for your service." The woman gave Althos a grateful look before taking her jug of water. As she began to walk off, one of the gaurds walked up. He lifted the jug and set it on his shoulder as he spoke quietly to her. They walked towards a house at the edge of the square. He set the jug down before the door. The woman stepped in her door when a boy stepped out and carried the jug inside.

Al-Uzza looked around the village, her stomach rumbling slightly. "Where are the people?" she said, annoyed that no one else had greeted her or otherwise given indication that they were aware of her presence.

"My Lady," Althos said, "The elders of the village are likely resting as it is the hour of the midday sleep. The able bodied men are away with the army, as her Serene Highness had called them to service. Our pause here will not be long because we are expected at Midloth when the sun is in the third quarter of the sky, a few hours from now."

Al-Uzza glared at Althos. "You do not rule this journey," she hissed at him. Althos straightened from drawing water to add to the trough. He looked at her with his earlier mask like expression.

"No, my Lady," he answered, "But I know that we must travel faster if we are to reach the city before the storm comes. Do you not feel the weight of the air? Do you not sense the way it grows thicker as we move north? A storm awaits us in the most physical sense, my Lady. I did not think you wished to travel in rain. Am I incorrect? I will confess, a bit of rain would be refreshing."

Al-Uzza scowled at Althos. He gestured to the east. She looked towards the hills and saw that the clouds she had been ignoring had grown darker. "No, let us go to Midloth. When the beasts are refreshed, we shall continue on." Althos gave Al-Uzza a bow.

"I defer to your wisdom, Lady Al-Uzza," he said. One of the gaurds hastily coughed to cover up a laugh. Al-Uzza would have turned to glare at the man but she wasn't sure who it was. The acolyte stood serenely behind Al-Uzza, holding the bridle of her own mount. As the priestess looked over her shoulder at the young woman in white, the acolyte gave Al-Uzza a bland look.

"Note this village," the priestess said, "Let the mother who served us be rewarded for it." The acolyte nodded.

Althos said in a dry tone. "My Lady is wise as she is benevolent." Al-Uzza scowled at the monk but said nothing.

Dacia's War: Departure (Part XX VI)

Al-Uzza looked at the party readying to go north. She scowled with displeasure at the glaring sunlight and the dry dusty scent in the air from the desert. Though Al-Uzza was born on the sands, she grew up in the halls of the temple proper, given to Julara as a tribute and as a way to make one less mouth to feed. She vaguely recalled her mother as a stern woman and had a dim recollection of her brothers. The black haired woman stood on the portico of the temple, waiting for the junior priestess assigned to her as secretary to arrive. The veil that Lady Al-Uzza wore was the deep blue-black of the higher ranking priestesses. A band of silver thread was woven into it on the left hand side, glistening like water in moonlight. Upon the hem where that narrow band ended at the front of the veil, there was a tassel of silver. This and the silver band marked her as the local high priestess of the district she was assigned to.

The tassel rested against her chest, winking in the light and distracting her for a moment from her bitter musings. She glanced down at it. As she set a finger against the beaded tassle, she marveled at how it felt cool to the touch despite the sun's heat. She considered her gown, of much finer fabric than what she had worn as a mere secretary, though that was also of high quality. The linen and silk fabric should have been uncomfortably warm, but it some how retained the coolness of the temple within it. Al-Uzza smoothed a hand over her shoulder when a voice behind her gave a small cough.

Al-Uzza looked over and beheld a young woman dressed in the pale grey of the acolytes who served as the keepers of lore. The woman wore a satchel of dun colored leather over her tunic, hanging on the left side. Al-Uzza knew the satchel well, for it was hers up until recently. Now, the woman standing at her left shoulder bore it and the combination of heavy books and precious writing tools. Al-Uzza's shoulder ached slightly in sympathetic memory of how the strap dug into her when she was sent to bear messages on the Empress's behalf. The young woman's hair was shorn and a grey kertchief covered the stubble. Al-Uzza gauged her companion's age as to be that of sixteen at best and shook her head with a slight look of distaste.

"Remember your vows," Al-Uzza said sternly to the acolyte as she looked forward, "Speak only when spoken to, maid. I will not tolerate frippery and foolishness. Am I clear?"

The young woman behind her answered in a voice that was quiet, almost timid sounding, "Yes, my Lady. I shall do as you command in accordance with Our Lady's will." Al-Uzza felt a measure of satisfaction with the apparent meekness of her secretary. The soldiers who had marshaled for the journey to the north had finished going over their orders. The mules and ponies that served as their beasts of burden had been loaded with their goods. A man dressed in robes the color of the burning sunset moved amongst the party. Al-Uzza frowned as he looked over at her.

Althos of the brothers militant was not a handsome man. But something about him made Al-Uzza highly suspicious of him. Perhaps it was the casual way he smiled at everyone in his party or the way his expression changed so quickly from that easy companionable smile to a look of sober consideration. His head was bald. Al-Uzza could not tell if it was because it was freshly shaven or if he was truly bald. Althos somehow managed to look rakeish in Al-Uzza's eyes, which simply meant he was not a hideous creature and was therefore suspect. He approached Al-Uzza. No smile touched his lips when he walked up to her.

"Lady Al-Uzza," his gravelly voice said, sounding jarringly harsh to her ears, "the party is ready to depart when you are. I have made sure that all beasts are well prepared and all provisions are secure." She wanted to say something stinging to him because of all the men present, it was Althos that made her uncomfortable and she wanted to diminish him somehow. She could not, however, find the words.

"Let us depart then," she said, "The sun is rising high in the sky and enough time has been wasted." Althos gave a graceful bow as he motioned Al-Uzza towards her mount. He stood at the side of the roan nag and made a step for her with his hands. Al-Uzza looked at the horse and found herself wishing that she had a block for mounting rather than the man's hands. He looked at her expectantly. With a small noise of annoyance, she set her left foot upon his hands and then moved to mount.

Though Al-Uzza was not a diminutive woman, she was surprised by how Althos aided her with out any sign of strain. She sat upon the back of the horse and looked down at the monk. He had turned away to help the acolyte upon her mount before Al-Uzza could possibly have considered he had looked at her bare ankle. He vaulted lightly into the saddle of his own horse and moved to the head of their group. Althos looked over his shoulder at the newly elevated priestess with an expectant expression.

Al-Uzza made a gesture in a forward direction. Althos arched an eyebrow. Deciding that her silent response indicated that she felt it was not necessary to invoke the blessing of the holy Yulara herself upon their journey, Althos deemed it necessary to call out to the members of the party to pray for the blessing of the Lady of Rivers on their travel through her lands. His voice was a loud, cawing cry as he shouted, "May the Mother of Life look kindly upon us and guide us in our wanderings over her green fields." The people around Al-Uzza answered with some muttered words, a few giving her uncomfortable glances as they did so.

Lady Al-Uzza could hear her clerk mumbling something indistinctly behind her. The priestess realized that she had broken some sort of taboo in failing to call for her goddess's blessing. She remained proudly silent, however, because the idea of somehow acknowledging her error was something that Al-Uzza believed would undermine her authority. Althos looked to the right. Upon a high balcony, he saw the Empress standing. He pressed his right fist to his left shoulder in a salute while bobbing his head in something that looked almost like it would have been a bow if he had been standing. Mina extended her hand in a gesture of blessing.

She watched as Al-Uzza looked up at her. For a moment, Al-Uzza's expression betrayed her loathing of her Lady. Then the party began to move and the haughty woman had to turn her attention upon keeping the horse following Althos. Mina watched as the party moved out of the temple gates. "I fear this will not end well," she sighed. A messenger scurried in the temple gates, the yellow band tied around his arm identifying him as someone coming from the black sands. Mina sighed and walked into the temple, unsure if the sense of weariness passing over her was because of her sense of foreboding about Al-Uzza, the desire to be done with the matters of war, or the fact that her sleep had been troubled the night before.

Lady of the North Ascends (Part XX V)

Serenity was the meaning of her name in the language of the people of the desert, she was anything but serene. Al-Uzza came before Mina with anger in her heart. The high priestess was many years her junior. The milk skinned woman with eyes the color of grass was not of the old people as Al-Uzza was. She was born of the northern reaches and lacked the robust build that Al-Uzza felt was proper to a woman. Even after bearing a child, the high priestess remained of diminuitive stature next to Al-Uzza. The son born to the high priestess of Julara took after his mother, indeed his face was as fair as a girls and lacked the beginnings of manhood even though the lad was entering into his eleventh year.

Al-Uzza was envious, but few around her dared to name that viper wound around her heart. For the woman with the white touched hair and heavy build was one to lash out at the people who challenged her and questioned her, if they were not of higher standing. Al-Uzza was skilled at flattery, however, and did shockingly well by plying her crafty tongue to move from some village witch at the outskirts of the western empire to within the hallowed halls of the main temple of Julara. Al-Uzza somehow maneuvered her way into serving as one of Mina's secretaries.

Mina could never quite recall how Al-Uzza came to be there with her stoney expression of dour disapproval. Still, the older woman was useful in keeping things in order, as she had been for the high priestess before her and perhaps the one before that. Now, Al-Uzza stood in the throne room, her large hands folded into the sleeves of her robes and her perpetual look of malcontent. Mina regarded the older woman thoughtfully. Mina had no illusions that Al-Uzza sought to reach higher than where she stood and would have gladly poisoned Mina to claim her crown if it weren't for the fact that Al-Uzza was unsure what the results of that would have been. It was not how things were when she was a small child. Julara moved through the world with greater force and Al-Uzza did not want to risk the anger of the goddess.

"Al-Uzza," Mina said, "governor Bastizia's lady has been murdered." The lines of Al-Uzza's frown deepened. "I am sending you north. They have need of your pragmatic mind and guidance. The maidens of the villages have need of a mother to give them direction." The old priestess's eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion. Mina turned her attention back to the letter in her left hand. "In addition to strengthening Bastizia's household against the influence of outsiders, I expect you to learn who it was that killed Lady Zia and why. The resources of the Silent Sisters in the shadows are naturally going to be available to you. Bastizia's letter suggests there is some sort of unrest against the daughters of Our Lady and they who have pledged themselves to her outside of our orders."

Al-Uzza's expression slowly moved from suspicion to grim realization that she truly was being sent away to the edge of the empire. "I expect a missive answering these questions, Lady Al-Uzza," Mina continued and Al-Uzza looked surprised. Mina looked up from Bastizia's letter. "You are surprised?" Mina said dryly, "A secretary is not needed in the north. Of all who have been in my service, you have been the most efficient. When I lay ill, it was you that directed the water priestesses to come to me. You are deserving of elevation. And your steady hand is needed there. Thus, do I send you, Lady Al-Uzza. Governor Bastizia may not choose to wed you immediately but to observe a time of mourning for your sister. Do not let him forget his duty."

Al-Uzza shifted, uncomfortable with the idea of being yoked to a man. In all her time in service to Julara, she aptly avoided contact with men and what she felt were their filthy mannerisms. "Your celibcy is not at risk," Mina said, somehow knowing what the woman who was nearly her birth mother's age was thinking, "Governor Bastizia is a man of some age. He is near to your own, actually, and more interested in the running of his territory than anything equating a love match. Zia bore him his heir. After this, he had little more to do with her beyond official capacity." Al-Uzza let out a breath that she hadn't realized she was holding.>

"Your Imperial Majesty," Al-Uzza said, restraining the urge to spit with disgust at stating the words, "Is it possible that the child was involved in the mother's demise?" Mina tipped her head slightly to the left. She looked at Al-Uzza thoughtfully. It was a question that came to Mina's mind as well, but not knowing what the dynamic between mother and child was, she had no way to speculate upon it. "It is possible, Majesty, that the child has grown rebellious or perhaps succumbed to the influence of the barbarians," Al-Uzza said when the silence had grown uncomfortable.

"This is a question, Lady Al-Uzza, that you must divine the answer to," Mina said. The priestess opened her mouth to give an appropriately obsequious response when the Empress continued. "Do not call the people of the north barbarians. Name them outsiders. Name them interlopers or malcontents. Name them enemies. They are a civilized people," Mina added in a tone of stern warning, "Their gods may be different from ours but they are devout in their own way." Al-Uzza straightened and her look of sour disapproval returned. "Their ways are not our own but they are not beasts," Mina warned Al-Uzza, "Many of them live with us in the north. Their distant kinsmen offer them insult even as it is offered to us. I will not have these people dishonored because of their great-cousin's foolishness."

Al-Uzza bowed to Mina in a silent gesture of repentance. "Go and prepare yourself, Lady Al-Uzza. Your caravan leaves in three days. I shall assign one to serve at your right hand. With you shall be traveling a son of Ashur of the brothers militant. Keep him as your confidant as you move through the north. He shall have a sand mirror to speak with his brothers here in the imperial city. I expect a party of soldiers will ride with you as well for the safety of yourself," Mina said, silently questioning of the intuitive choice of Al-Uzza was wise.

"Blessings of Our Lady be upon you, your Imperial Majesty," Al-Uzza murmured before she moved to depart, inwardly wishing that Julara strike down Mina before her eyes. As the newly appointed Lady Al-Uzza left her presence, Mina watched her with a feeling of discomfort in her bones. One of the water priestesses stood off to the side with a small tray in her hands. As Al-Uzza walked past the priestess in blue, the younger priestess bobbed a small bow. Al-Uzza seemed to preen as she disappeared through the doors into the antechamber. The healer walked through the throne room and approached Mina with her tray.

With a sigh, Mina motioned the healer forward. She took the tiny glass vial off of the tray and unstoppered it. As she quaffed the tincture, Mina restrained an urge to grimace at the bitter taste. The sense of heaviness that slowly blossomed in her chased away the throbbing pain behind her eyes. Mina closed her eyes with a sigh. "Most Serene Lady," the healer murmured, "You must rest. Shall I summon someone to help you to your chambers?" Mina opened her eyes and looked at the concerned expression on the woman who couldn't have been a day older than herself.

"Yes," Mina sighed, deciding that her discomfort earlier had to be due to the ache that seemed to grow stronger the longer she was up and moving. The healer bobbed a bow and scurried off to fetch a strong servant. Mina leaned her head against the back of her throne. "Mother, why must I hurt so?" she sighed. Something of a cool, damp breath of air blew through the chamber, smelling of sweet water, and brused against Mina's face. The sensation of cool hands settling on her shoulders came with it and the distinct feeling that her recovery would be finished soon came over her. "I am so tired," Mina sighed.

"Then I shall bear you to your rest," Sorenan said as he walked through the throne room. Mina opened her eyes and looked at him. He approached her. Where others bowed before her, Sorenan simply walked forward. Mina gave him a wan smile for his boldness. Unable to find the focus to voice her question why he was back so soon from the discussion with the high council, she closed her eyes. Sorenan stooped and picked his lover up. Mina set her head against his shoulder and was fast asleep long before they had reached her chamber.

The Blood of Kings and Paupers

Mina watched as the messenger recounted his report from the north. As the man spoke, her gaze strayed to Sorenan. The sandy haired man seemed to lounge in his chair like some cat with one of his long legs thrown over the left arm. His hair was unbound and fell in a tousled mane that was more than a little reminiscent of the great cats of the menagerie. A knife twirled in his left hand. He tossed it up into the air, caught it, flipped it over the back of his hand, and generally toyed with it with impressive dexterity. The messenger seemed uncomfortable with the mercenary's restless action and paused often to glance at the man who stared at the floor with a bored look.

Marcos sat at Mina's left. As the messenger was detailing the latest demands from the governors for troops to strengthen their defenses, the Emperor of Dacia was doing his best to try to gauge how severe the need was. The messenger hemmed and hawed, trying to down play what he had been told. There was some fear that he was to meet an evil end after word had spread of what happened to Temna's envoy. Marcos pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned back, closing his eyes with a harsh sigh of frustration. "Have they taken any of the cities?" he said, deciding that perhaps his best route was brutally blunt questions.

The messenger fell silent. He dropped his gaze from Marcos's face to the floor. Taking the man's silence as an affirmative answer, the priest-king of Dacia city let his hand drop to his side. "How many have fallen?" Marcos demanded in a flat tone. The messenger slowly raised his eyes. His face was pale with terror and grief. "Answer me, man," Marcos barked loudly, half rising from his seat on the dais. The messenger flinched and stumbled back a pace.

"Does the city of Sarben still stand?" Sorenan asked, sounding almost as bored as he looked. The messenger looked over at the man seated on the impressive carved chair beside the dais at Mina's right. The messenger shook his head. The man wrung his hands and then began to twist the lower hem of his travel stained tunic between them. "Are the passes at Mivan and Carlian still in our hands?" Sorenan continued. The messenger again signaled a negative answer. Sorenan raised his head and looked at the man standing before them.

In the grandness of the throne room, the messenger from the north seemed pathetically small. Sorenan couldn't tell if it was because of how the man seemed to stink with fear and cringe when one even looked at him or if it was because he clearly looked under nourished and ill. Sorenan's gaze focused on the messenger's boots. They were cracked and worn. The dull grey dust of the road was not merely coating them but caked upon them as though the man with his cloak pinned at his left shoulder with a greening brass fibula had trudged through mud but recently.

"Where did you come from? "Sorenan asked, "What city?" The messenger looked over at the blond man, surprised by his question being phrased in an unexpectedly kind tone. The messenger swallowed past a lump in his throat. His expression moved deeper into grief. "What it Sarben?" he continued as he moved to sit more properly on his chair before slipping his knife into the sheath at his left boot.

"A village an hour north of Sarben," the messenger said. Marcos's impatient noise prompted Mina to place a hand on his wrist. "I went south to Sarben because Lady Elia needed the aid of Governor Laelius's men," the messenger spoke haltingly, "Men came from the high places and troubled us over the last two passages of the High Lady and Her Children. As I left Xaxio, my village, they came again."

"What became of Xaxio?" Marcos asked. The man before them dropped his gaze and raised a shaky hand to pass it over his eyes.

"The smoke turned the sky black," he answered in a voice that was little more than a whisper, "I was almost to Sarben when they came upon me. They forced me to march ahead of them with others. We stood at the gate of Sarben. The raiders were behind us but the guard could not seem them for the fog. When the gates opened, the raiders came forward. Otho was trampled as he pushed me away from the riders. I... I laid on the ground and prayed for it to stop."

The messenger's voice gave out and he softly began to weep. "So much blood," he said in a watery tone, turning his eyes on Marcos. "They slaughtered them," the man said with a catch in his voice, "They split children on their spears, laughing as they caught them. Governor Laelius was marched to the gates. They hewed him like a tree."

"You ran," Marcos said quietly. The traumatized man dissolved into tears, unable to nod or speak. Marcos looked over at Sorenan. "Laelius was my cousin," the Emperor of Dacia continued in a hollow tone, "He was the reason why I entered the priesthood.Our mothers deemed it proper work for us." Marcos looked at the man weeping before him, seemingly through him.

Sorenan looked to Mina. Where Marcos looked to be somewhere in between anger and seeking black vengence, Mina's expression was calculating and cool. She broke her silence through out this audience, snapping all eyes that were focused on the messenger to her, as she said, "Governer Bastizia was wise to send you as his messenger. Did his Lady have additional words to send?" The messenger's eyes widened and he suddenly began to frantically dig through the pouch at his left hip.

He extracted a tightly wound roll of parchment from a narrow oilskin sleeve. The man walked forward three paces and knelt before the dias, holding the scroll up upon his raised hands while he lowered his head to press it to the edge of the dias. Mina leaned forward. She lifted the scroll from his hands. As she sat back on her throne, the Empress of Dacia said, "Lacryan, bring this man to where he might rest from his journey. See to it that he is well cared for. When he is refreshed, bring him to Sister Lydian. She will attend to the injuries of his soul."

The messenger lifted his head when Lacryan, the majordomo who served the Emperor set a hand on his shoulder. Lacryan's sober, yet compassionate, expression made the man from the north look as though he was about to resume weeping. Grey haired Lacryan lead his charge from the throne room. As they exited, General Zalaz was entering. He looked over at the messenger briefly as he departed and then turned his attention to Mina, who sat reading the scroll with a look of stern disapproval.
"Lady Zia has been murdered. Governor Bastizia has written that refugees of the domain beyond the wall built by his ancestors have come in greater numbers. This man's forced march with the tribesmen appears to have revealed that they are ... organizing," Mina said as she handed the scroll over to her husband. Zalaz opened his mouth to say something and Mina raised a hand slightly, stilling him.

She turned her attention to Sorenan. "Though you know the north and the ways of these tribes, we need you here. It is not yet time for you to go," she said as she then looked to Marcos. "I shall send an emissary to the priestesses to assist them in this. You should send one of the priests militant with her to learn what the threat is. It will be better to have one of Ashur's sons there than a low ranking officer who might be swayed by promises of riches."

Zalaz frowned with displeasure at Mina's statement. Again, he prepared to say something when Mina forestalled him. "General, word has come from the south that Temna's forces again are moving towards us. I would have confirmation of this. It would not do to have a war fought on two fronts," she said. Zalaz sighed, even more displeased with the situation in learning the news he had come to report was somehow reported to Mina and Marcos before he reached them.