The Fisherman's Daughter Read Free Page B

in irritation. “I am also told your ways are strange in Artalon. We do not wish to become as you are.” Meiri knows that having to address a woman as an equal agitates him. “I want to have your magic first,” he says. “And I get to choose which of my people can be trained.”
    Tal Harun sighs. “It doesn’t work like that. You could never learn our art, but some of your people might be able to. We will build a school here and provide you wizards to advise you and train those of Aradheim who are able, whether they are noble or peasant. Bloodlines mean nothing to a wizard.”
    “Then we are done here.” Lord Keeva stands. “I cannot afford such power in the hands of the rabble. Who would keep them in line?” For a fraction of an instant, his eyes flash to Meiri and she starts. She can’t recall a time ever seeing any of the house’s nobles noticing those in the gray. Tal Harun and his companion also stare at her briefly.
    “Sit down!” the lady snaps, and Meiri’s eyes widen as Lord Keeva obeys.
    Lord Keeva looks as surprised as Meiri at his own reaction, and he glances at the slave girl again. Meiri shrinks inside. He saw me see him obey. She wonders if they will beat her later… but why should they? She has done nothing wrong. Maybe they will release her from service, and she can find a way to leave the gray behind. But where is home now?
    Lord Keeva sputters. “How dare you—”
    But the lady opens her palm flat in front of him, and living fire springs to life. It floats over her palm, casting light over his face. He shuts his mouth, and his visage twists from indignation to power hunger as he stares at the magic fire. “You will address me as Lady Desdemona,” she tells him, “and offer me the same courtesy you offer Lord Tal Harun. Do not mistake yourself as my equal.”
    Tal Harun has a slightly sad, slightly amused expression on his face.
    Meiri too has lost her composure and stares as dumbly as a village girl watching miraclemen at carnival. Except miraclemen use tricks, so her father always told her. Lady Desdemona is no worker of tricks.
    Lady Desdemona continues, allowing the fire to burn in the air. “We are not here to force you,” she says, “but we are making this same offer to all human lands. The others have accepted. If you do not allow us to raise your people on our terms, Aradheim will be left in the dust of history. You’ll become obsolete and absorbed by your neighbors. Do you think Galadheim or Surafel could be intimidated by you if they wield the power that I now hold? It won’t matter that you hold the orc tribes at bay. They won’t need you to anymore.” She leans back and extinguishes the mystical flame. “And when the orcs finally come for you, and you turn to them for help… do you want to be counted among Artalon’s friends, or do you want to be remembered as the land who turned away from the rest of humanity just because you are a weak people who fears your own slaves?”
    “Desdemona,” Tal Harun intervenes, “let’s retire for now. Lord Keeva needs time to think. Words will add nothing more in the moment.”
    She nods curtly and stands. Tal Harun follows, and they both leave the room. They each glance briefly at Meiri as they pass.
    Meiri waits silently, unsure what to do. She wants nothing more desperately than to be away from this room right now, but she cannot leave until he leaves or she is dismissed.
    Lord Keeva stares at her. His lips slowly press together, and his eyes narrow in anger. She feels as if the room grows dark as blood rushes from her head. She breaks her gaze with him and stares down towards the floor as she has been trained to do.
    “Get out,” he hisses.
    That is all she needs to hear.
     
6
    “I heard what happened tonight,” the cook says. Meiri is bent over on all fours, half-inside a big iron pot while she scrubs away the day’s grease, with her rear end pointed out in the air. Her punishment from Matron for today’s events.