Guardians of the Desert (Children of the Desert) Read Free Page A

vision around the edges; then the haze turned golden, and he felt an immense presence thrust into his mind.
    You fight what you are , the Scratha ha’rethe said. Why? Why do you spend so much time thinking about the humans? Why do you bother? At the least, you could have the dignity to focus on those who choose to serve, instead of the tharr.
    The invisible ones , that meant: the commoners, the ordinary ones whose existence normally didn’t even register with the ha’reye. People like Alyea, before her trials; like Meer.
    Deiq shut his eyes, grimacing, and blocked memory so quickly he barely knew he was doing it himself. The ha’rethe stirred restlessly, its golden stare intensifying.
    Something troubles you.
    Nothing important , Deiq said, infusing his reply with a deliberate boredom. Just remembering one of the more amusing tharr.
    Not amusing at all; but he didn’t want the ha’rethe to pry.
    You waste your time on this , the ha’rethe said, drawn in the direction he’d hoped for. Those who do not serve do not matter.
    It was the old argument, and one he’d never resolved with any of the ha’reye or ha’ra’hain.
    He repressed a sigh, and answered, Don’t they all serve, in the end?
    You indulge in foolishness. The golden haze faded away with the suggestion of an annoyed head-shake. Deiq let out a long, quiet breath, feeling as though a dangerous precipice had just smoothed out into relatively stable terrain.
    Brooding would only attract the ha’rethe’s attention again, and draw them into an argument Deiq preferred to avoid, so he gently nudged Alyea’s shoulder with a bent knuckle to wake her. She rolled towards him as she opened her eyes; the movement put her right up against him, her dark stare inches from his face. The moment hung and stretched; he stayed very still, as though to avoid startling a wild creature.
    At last Alyea blinked, awareness dawning in her expression, and scooted hurriedly away from him. “How long have I—?”
    “Almost time for Conclave,” he said, sitting up and looking away to give her some sense of privacy. Her withdrawal wasn’t surprising; it was a matter of instinct for any human to back away from close contact with a ha’ra’ha. Desert lords trained themselves to overcome that instinct, which only proved how damned stupid humans could be.
    A faint burning ache passed across his chest.
    He shut down that emotion-laden line of thought before he attracted the ha’rethe’s attention again. Foolishness , it had scolded; not the first time he’d been faced with that accusation, and it wouldn’t be the last.
    He manufactured a pleasant expression for Alyea’s benefit and suggested, “Let’s go get some food before Conclave starts.”
    That trivial normality relaxed her vague disquiet instantly. As he let her lead the way to the kitchens of Scratha Fortress, he held back a sigh at how simple maneuvering a human, even a desert lord, always was; and only then realized that he’d hoped Alyea, somehow, would be different.

Chapter T w o
     
    The two largest rooms in Scratha Fortress, by far, were the formal dining hall and the teuthin , which Deiq translated as meeting place.
    “Bit more complicated than that, of course,” he added as he walked with Alyea through the quiet corridors towards the Conclave. Servants moved about in groups, discussing in low voices how to allocate tasks; Alyea recognized the scene as typical of an influx of wholly new staff as yet unaccustomed to working together.
    She’d seen it at home twice: once after her father died, when her mother had inexplicably swept out the old servants and replaced them with almost all new; and again after her whipping, as though to deter such betrayals in the future. Or perhaps Lady Peysimun simply couldn’t stand having servants who had watched her daughter being publicly whipped and humiliated.
    Alyea had never asked; had never wanted her suspicions confirmed. Her mother could be remarkably shallow at