Free Michelle West - Sun Sword 01 - The Broken Crown by sun sword Page B

she, and twice, when
his daughters were ill, had come over the hillocks, his lamp and his
fear burning high. And she had followed him to the biggest house in the
village, to tend to his children in the silence of sickness, of terror.
How could she do less, when she understood that particular helplessness
so well?
    "Ashaf. Valla. You're late again."
    "Daro," Valla said, kneeling meekly.
    "Daro," Ashaf said. "At my age—"
    "At your age you set about Michale with a broom and reddened
both his ears." But his good-natured smile was broad enough; it had
been a good year, and the harvest would please the Tor who ruled them
all, whether his serafs were late or no. "We'll fall behind without
you, Ashaf. You set the good example."
    "And she terrifies those who don't follow it!" Someone else,
his words carrying in a loud, happy boom. Michale.
    She set about her work, feeling the long stalks of wheat as
they lay, new, against her dry hands. The children came to help her,
although she needed little help; they came to thresh and stomp and
squabble while they worked. That was the way of the young.
    The way of the village.
    She felt a sharp pang, seeing them all. And she did not name
it because she did not have to. She could have chosen any home when the
Tor'agar who had been her husband met his just end beneath the Lady's
Moon. It was truth; his son had been almost a son to her, for all sons
were reared in the harem until they came of an age deemed suitable by
their sires.
    But she had chosen to return to this village, as if by coming
back she could reclaim what had been lost: dreams. Innocence. Trust.
    And she had, for a while.
    There was a warmth at her chest, a warmth and a softness, as
if a child lay pillowed against her breast. And she realized that she
cared very much for these people, and this place; that not only her
dead, but her living, were here in numbers.
    "Ashaf?"
    It was Daro, his black hair swept in an unruly knot above his
forehead. His wife loved long hair, and although it was not at all
practical, he kept it so as not to have to listen to her complaints. Or
so he said; there was an affection in Daro that was strong and deep and
not afraid of the gibes of men.
    "I am sorry," she told him softly, setting a callused hand
gently against his shirt.
    "And I am worried. It's not like you to miss the call three
days running. Are you ill?"
    "Do I look ill?"
    "No. But I know you, Ashaf. You'd have one hand in the Lady's
before you'd admit that anything was wrong."
    "Then why," she said pointedly, "do you waste your breath and
time asking?"
    "Because if I get close enough to ask you over this din, I'll
be able to see for myself." The concern lingered in his eyes, and she
surprised herself by setting all work aside.
    "Come," she said, and he followed, just as he followed her the
evening his daughter's fever had—barely— broken.
* * *
    They climbed the highest of the hills that the forest shielded
from the outside, and sat there, looking down upon the men and women
who toiled in such high spirits below.
    "We'll finish early," she said.
    He nodded.
    "Is the Tor happy?"
    "You'll be able to ask him yourself," Daro replied. "He's
traveling this season, and intends this village to be his last stop."
As he spoke, he cast a sidelong glance at her, the question in his
voice unmistakable.
    As always, the news that he would visit warmed her. He was not
her son; she reminded herself of this again and again, although in
truth she needed no reminder. He was the Tor'agar Danello kai
di'Valente; he held her life, and the life of this village, in a hand
that could just as easily curl into fist as open in offering.
    But he held her in regard, he flattered her, and in the
privacy of the tiny home that she would not leave, he spoke to her as
if they were still prisoners in the same harem.
    And that
, she thought,
was the
first life, and it is over
.
    "Do you love this village?" someone said, and when Daro
replied, she realized it was her.
    "It is my