I - Indienen Lozou

The monster-child of the council, Indienen Lozou, was insufferable in her best moments. This wasn’t one of those times.

“Shand. You know how dangerous those song-witches are. Are you telling me you want Hatra to fall? Because that’s what I’m hearing.” Indienen paced between rooms in her apartments like a caged therishon. “Do you want that? Do you want them to sing us all to our graves?”

Shandalle took a measured and slow breath. Wait to respond. Don’t tell her what an ignorant child she is being. The dry breeze was warm for the first time this spring. That meant a dust storm was coming within hours. In the mean-time, the windows were open wide to let the apartments breathe.

“Of course not, Indie. They couldn’t do that even if there was a measurable thaum in their voices. It’s me here. You can drop the bluster and scare-mongering when it is just us, you know.” Shandalle kept her voice steady and calm, but moved her body in position to throw the woman out the window if it became necessary. I hope it does not.

“I know, Shand.” Indienen shook her hands and jumped in tiny hops to get a grip on her emotions. “It’s just . . . I get so wound up. I want to see the books they hide. I want to know that they are toothless whallets that we can eat in a soup and not a varnok that will chew off our leg while we scream.”

Shandalle chuckled and shook her head. Her hair was shoulder length in the fashion of the downpods, and it swung loose around her ears and face.

“Chew off our leg? Well that is an image. Do you really think in these terms all the time? Can’t you just be my friend from when we were kids running through the gardens and climbing our parents’ trees?”

“Agh. I know, Shand. I’m a mess. I just can’t help thinking about . . .”

“The danger. I know. Let’s talk about something else. Okay?” Shandalle stood and walked over to the woman whose lot was publicly to serve the Lozou family. She took her hands and gently pulled down on them, forcing her to stop pacing. “You are Indienen Lozou. You’re one of the most powerful people in Hatra, despite the fact that nobody knows it. Any fear you may have will be conquered by your family forces, or mine. Your father has served mine well for years, as did his father with my grand. We are sisters even, when you think of our families.”

Indienen took a deep breath. “I know you’re right, Shand.”

“And you know I won’t let anything happen to you, right?”

“I do. I do. Yes. I know.”

“Good. Now. Tell me what your mother is up to these days? How is Bess?” Shandalle kept a firm grip on Indienen’s hands so that she couldn’t wind up again.

“Bess? Oh, sure. My mom is well. She’s been arranging support for the attack on the oasis. She says they have some great important book hidden there, so we’re going to go take it.”

“Really? Well that’s interesting. It would be fascinating to see what they find there.” I need to see those books to progress in the skills of the Chorus, and their leader won’t even let me see it.

“Oh books exist there. We have a spy that trades with them. He says he’s seen them reading something that looks important. He’s sure it’s connected to the old verses.” Indienen’s face had calmed and her eyes were more clear. Deep brown, but the panic had subsided, making her once again a beautiful woman. A dangerous woman, but beautiful.

“Well I’m sure whatever it is, it’s all just ancient gibble-gabble that nobody can read. Still, we should try to preserve it as a historical piece to keep locked in the archives. Especially if it’s as dangerous as . . .” Shandalle cut herself off. “Listen, let’s walk, shall we?”

Indienen smiled, exposing a row of straight white teeth and the beginnings of a smile crease at the ends of her thin lips. This close, the subtle freckles in her medium tan skin were apparent. A lovely snake, this one.

The pair walked freely through the Lozou compound, past Bess’ and her several brothers’ apartments. They emerged a few minutes later into the gardens. Zilar Lozou’s tree stood large in a central area. After Indienen’s grand had died they cut his tree down and made various pieces of furniture, a shield, and numerous artworks from it. That left Zilar’s tree as the largest and oldest in the garden. Each of the children were given a tree. Indienen’s brothers had managed to not let them entirely die, and her tree was not dying, but never grew large and strong. It felt to Shandalle that Indienen perhaps didn’t love it, or didn’t coo to it enough. Whatever the cause, hers was the sickliest of the Lozou trees in the garden, and none were as healthy and large as Shandalle’s little brother, Yoka’s, tree.

They walked arm in arm, this so that Shandalle could contain the frantic energy that would have Indienen spin off into another tirade about the evils of thaumaturges. Shandalle knew with certainty that Indienen knew absolutely nothing about thaumatic energies, but was poisoned by the stories. She led her friend to the shade of Zilar’s tree where a bench sat, the product of Indienen’s grand-grand’s tree. She waived toward it and they sat. Prim and stiff, but sitting nonetheless.

“Indie. How are they planning to get this supposed book?”

“Attack them and take it, of course.” Her face leaned away to ensure everything in her life was viewed straight down her long and slender nose.

“Of course. But who? And will the council approve it?” Shandalle probed gently to learn how to get the book herself.

“Ander is leading the expedition. If there’s anything out there, he’ll make sure it’s brought back safely.”

“I think the timing of such an attack might be ill-conceived. I’ve learned that Ersona marches to attack us yet again.” Shandalle slid across the room to sit in her original chair.

“This assault on the oasis is happening, Shand. My mother and I have already put the wheels in motion. The boys on the council will surely comply with the wishes of their frightened wives, will they not?”

“True. They have never denied the wishes of their wives,” Shandalle said.

“We have made sure they’re fully aware of the danger, or at least made them so afraid that it no longer matters what we say. They will fall in line, now.” Indienen smiled with all her teeth showing, but nearly none of the muscles in her face flexed. The look was very unsettling, but Shandalle smiled warmly in return.

“Of course. I’ve seen you at this effort for some time.” Shandalle looked off to the few distant clouds visible on the horizon. “Interesting choice, your brother. I suppose such a victory is a low enough risk that even he could manage it without injuring himself. The favor he would gain would add a suitor or two to his docket, I’m sure.”

“You deride my brother?”

“Me? No-no-no. It’s just what I hear. From my informants. That’s all.”

“What is it that you hear?” Indienen looked as if she may punch Shandalle if she didn’t like the response.

Shandalle stood and walked over to a low-hanging branch to pluck off a bud from the rare mature tree. So much water to produce this one small bud. Such a shame to waste it on the Lozou.

“Nothing of substance,” the taller, stronger, and younger woman said.

“Well, be that as it may, I’m sure he will bring back the book,” Indienen replied.

“That’s assuming there’s a book there at all.”

* * *

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