Skies Read Free

most others and the reddish hair I had before it became this dark was uncommon. Most had dark skin and hair, with brown or dark colored eyes. Sorry, what was the last question?”
    Talha’s pen scratched across the page in a flurry, the end of the quill only a hair’s width away from the end of her nose. As she wrote, the Sister muttered to herself, whispering in the language Lhaurel had come to understand as the Orinai tongue.
    “What was that?” Lhaurel asked.
    “Hmm . . . oh right, I still need to teach you our language. Luckily, we have a nice long journey home before us without Sellia or Aiam to bother your learning. Our path will be much too slow for them, though I do find it quite fascinating the tones and inflections you’ve developed that differ from our own slave people. I suppose a thousand years’ separation creates variances in divergent, isolated populations, just as new species of animal develop when separated by geographic barriers that prevent further integration between the groups.”
    “What?”
    Talha chuckled. Lhaurel was surprised to hear some measure of actual warmth in the sound.
    “Just the scholar in me at work. I was simply wondering how you managed to survive the genesauri monsters for all these years. The Circle of Sisters left the Sharani Arena to its fate long ago, convinced that your people would suffer horrendous deaths at the hands of Elyana’s creations. Mouths, really, I’d imagine. They didn’t really have hands now did they?”
    “Thousands of us did die over the years,” Lhaurel said in a hard yet hushed voice. She stared down at her hands, remembering the battle at the Oasis, Saralhn, and the moment that had seemed to start all of this, when she had picked up that sword in Saralhn’s defense all those months ago.
    “Really?” Talha asked, pausing in her writing to look up. “What was that like?”
    Lhaurel sat up and leaned back slightly, lips pursing before she answered. She’d thought this woman different from the other two Sisters at first, a much kinder, gentler version of them, perhaps. But something sinister and callous hid just beneath the surface. The emotionless way in which she’d asked about the genesauri and her callous disinterest in the deaths left Lhaurel with no real desire to stay anywhere near this woman for any longer than she had to. “What was it like? People died. People I loved.”
    “Yes, yes,” Talha said, resuming her writing. “Naturally. But how did the genesauri do it? Some of the books make mention of the fact that the genesauri could fly—are they those creatures we saw with your people? Did you tame some of them? Those looked far more like normal birds than the eel-like sand creatures most accounts agree on.”
    “How did they do it?” Lhaurel’s hands began to shake, so she cupped them together, which only helped a little. “The sailfins burrowed up out of sand and skimmed over its surface in giant packs. You didn’t hear them coming unless they broke the surface and the terrible keening of their fins cut its way into your heart. By then, though, it was too late. They’d burst up out of the sand, crackling with energy, grab onto your brother, or your mother, or your sister and drag them back down under the roiling, red sands. The marsaisi and karundin were worse.”
    “Interesting. I am not familiar with the subspecies. We’ll have to discuss this further. Yes, indeed.” Talha smiled and closed the bound papers and set aside her quill. “I can see this is an emotional subject for you. I think we’ll have to stop here with my questions for today. I’d hoped for more, but alas, my time with you is short today, only a few hours, and we must begin your lessons.”
    Lhaurel pulled back her anger, allowing it to fade from a raging storm to a much smaller swell. At the moment, it wouldn’t serve her in the least. This woman reminded her of Khari for some reason, though she didn’t seem to have Khari’s fire. However,