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

times.
    Deiq’s quiet, velvet voice brought her out of brooding.
    “A teuthin is by implication any neutral ground, where grievances are either set aside or resolved without violence. It’s a place where everyone’s status is the same, where all voices can be heard and even the poorest commoner has the right to speak his mind freely to the lords of his land. I believe there’s even a story or two about a commoner so impressing the gathered lords that he was adopted into a desert Family on the spot . . . It’s the sort of legend that humans seem to love hearing.”
    Deiq seemed completely unselfconscious about referring to himself as non-human—at least when they were alone. In mixed company, around those who might not know his background, he tended to pass himself off in roles of rich merchant or mysterious quasi-noble .
    She thought about how long he’d been concealing his nature, wondered who else knew the truth about him, and mused how lonely it must be to lie to everyone he met.
    He glanced at her, an odd sideways motion filled with amusement.
    “Very few, to answer one of your questions,” he said, a smile tugging at his thin lips. “All the Fortress Heads know what I am, and the loremasters, of course; but even most of the desert lords you’ll meet don’t need to know that I’m anything but a rich merchant or—” the amusement in his voice deepened: “—mysterious quasi-noble. Thank you; I do like that phrase.”
    Alyea blinked, taken aback at how easily he could read her, and tried to cover her thoughts more securely. She had to stop walking to concentrate, and Deiq paused as well, the smile still on his face as he watched her efforts.
    Noise scratched at her inner ear: the murmur of someone talking in a nearby room. A moment later her pulse overrode the distant voice, then faded away. She shook her head, hard, as though that could secure her hearing in one range. It seemed to help; her hearing stabilized long enough for her to construct a mental image of walls around her mind.
    “Better,” Deiq said at last. “Good enough for most of the desert lords you’ll encounter. But why does it even bother you in the first place? I’m your guardian, Alyea; I’m not going to hurt you.”
    She shook her head, not sure how to answer, and started walking again. He stayed by her side, dark and sober now, and let the moment pass.
    The teuthin of Scratha Fortress was round and dominated by an enormous circular table crafted from black hardwood. The table’s thick layer of varnish caught and refracted orange evening sunlight, swirling it into the illumination cast by the lamps: large versions of the smokeless green-oil lamps she’d seen at the Qisani during her second blood trial. Rough grey stone lay in great slabs underfoot and tapestries covered the pale stone walls, each hanging representing one of the Families gathered around the table.
    The Scratha Family banner, hung behind Lord Scratha’s chair, depicted a bright green lizard perched on a wide-leaved plant, its thick tail seeming to merge into the ground with the central stalk. Alyea admired the fine stitching and bright colors, wondering whether the plant and the designs meant anything.
    “The plant is desert ginger,” Deiq murmured in her ear as they sat down. He ignored her sharp glare and went on, “The lizard represents subtlety and sharp perception; the ginger relates that to the heart and spirit. The color green ties it into life. Now here’s something interesting: see the angle formed by the tail and the leaves? If you traced that out, you’d find the symbol for a desert animal called a groundhog; that symbolizes community. Putting this banner up says that Scratha’s intentions are to draw the community around the table together and promote understanding among the desert Families. It’s the banner Scratha has almost always used at Conclaves.”
    She tried to attend to what he was saying, but a dull feeling of resentment crawled along her