In Progress
Hokay, so my computer has been wonky all day. As a result I actually tried writing some of chapter nine, but my writing sucks and I don't feel like carrying a bunch of paper home, so I decided to write it here so I can cut and paste it later. So if you want to read it, go ahead (read please) and if you want to tell me what you think, great (read please) and if you want to tell me what to do next, kick ass (read please!!!!)
It should be raining, Faida thought as she finished the first verse of the mourning song. THe'n had been born in Luz, a place of green and life and endless rains. He was always saying he'd go back. Find a little corner room with a door to the courtyard and spend the rest of his days in a comfortable chair spinning tales for nely fostered children.
But he'd never gone home. He'd died in this blasted desert, his mortal shell trapped under rubble and dus; and he'd never lift his face to Tikenya's tears again.
He didn't deserve to die here She lifted her gaze to the other linen-wrapped forms. None of them deserved to die here
Two days had passed since Mayen sent the menfa to their home provinces. Having been raised at the high seat, Grau and the rest of the ty had nowhere else to go. They'd moved all they could find to the lodge, along with those too wounded to travel. Moth had been gathering food and supplies, but he hadn't expected so many would be staying. In a building meant as a temporary way-station for two tys of twelver, fifty menfa were hard pressed for space. Especially since more than half of them couldn't move beyond their cots.
For al that she hated her newly imposed silence, Faida had to admit there were a few upsides. THe sound of so many people in such a confined space would surely have driven her mad. And, more importantly, there was no sound more heart wrenching than the wail of a homeless spirit.
Then the song of mourning ended, and se was struck by her loss once more.
The clansmen strong enough to gather in the small temple filed out slowly, most of them placing small bouquets next to their friends' dark candles. Rosemary, jasmine and lauren -- the herbs of memory -- so the spirits could remember those who loved them on the lonely journey to Cai'lah's embrace. Faida helped Moth to the entrance, then lowered him carefully to a partially upright cot.
"Are you sure you won't go back nside?"
As she'd known he would, Moth shook his head. "I won't let you watch over them alone." The healers had finally given him permission to speak, but his voice was still mostly gone. It reminded her eerily of Th'en.
She shook those thoughts away and nodded grimly. Then she took a deep breath and went back into the temple where, on a small stone bench, Mayen was waiting. Technically speaking, with the clan elder there she wasn't truly alone, but considering how little of him was left she may as well have been. And she needed Moth's presence outside more than she was willing to admit.
It should be raining, Faida thought as she finished the first verse of the mourning song. THe'n had been born in Luz, a place of green and life and endless rains. He was always saying he'd go back. Find a little corner room with a door to the courtyard and spend the rest of his days in a comfortable chair spinning tales for nely fostered children.
But he'd never gone home. He'd died in this blasted desert, his mortal shell trapped under rubble and dus; and he'd never lift his face to Tikenya's tears again.
He didn't deserve to die here She lifted her gaze to the other linen-wrapped forms. None of them deserved to die here
Two days had passed since Mayen sent the menfa to their home provinces. Having been raised at the high seat, Grau and the rest of the ty had nowhere else to go. They'd moved all they could find to the lodge, along with those too wounded to travel. Moth had been gathering food and supplies, but he hadn't expected so many would be staying. In a building meant as a temporary way-station for two tys of twelver, fifty menfa were hard pressed for space. Especially since more than half of them couldn't move beyond their cots.
For al that she hated her newly imposed silence, Faida had to admit there were a few upsides. THe sound of so many people in such a confined space would surely have driven her mad. And, more importantly, there was no sound more heart wrenching than the wail of a homeless spirit.
Then the song of mourning ended, and se was struck by her loss once more.
The clansmen strong enough to gather in the small temple filed out slowly, most of them placing small bouquets next to their friends' dark candles. Rosemary, jasmine and lauren -- the herbs of memory -- so the spirits could remember those who loved them on the lonely journey to Cai'lah's embrace. Faida helped Moth to the entrance, then lowered him carefully to a partially upright cot.
"Are you sure you won't go back nside?"
As she'd known he would, Moth shook his head. "I won't let you watch over them alone." The healers had finally given him permission to speak, but his voice was still mostly gone. It reminded her eerily of Th'en.
She shook those thoughts away and nodded grimly. Then she took a deep breath and went back into the temple where, on a small stone bench, Mayen was waiting. Technically speaking, with the clan elder there she wasn't truly alone, but considering how little of him was left she may as well have been. And she needed Moth's presence outside more than she was willing to admit.