Authors: A.E. Marling
Brood of Bones (42 page)
The brother bowed and left the room when I asked Alyla after her health. Despite the warmth of summer, she wore a full blouse to cover the stretch marks that had remained on her petite frame as a sobering reminder of the disintegrated unchild.
She gazed after her brother. “I worry about my Fosapam. We haven’t the money for him to return to the military university.”
“I will offer to sponsor his training as a Spellsword,” I said, “an honorable profession practiced only by the best of men. And, Alyla, when I eventually return to the Mindvault Academy, I hope you will accompany me as a novice.”
She bowed her head, hands folded across her lap. “Might I stay close to my brother?”
“The Spellsword dormitories are below the Academy, and you would find enchantment a wondrous and empowering magic.”
Leaving Alyla alone to consider, I suffered a poke in the ribs from Maid Janny. “Making plans to keep her brother close, are you? He’s an eyeful, isn’t he?
A bundle of shivers, a real painting, a sing-song, a lamp lighter.”
“I certainly do not know what you mean. He merely exemplifies physical aptitude.”
Janny’s chortling only quieted when Mister Obenji strode into the hall, his gait livelier than that of many men one-third his age. He informed me that mistress Deepmand and her children had arrived.
Deepmand’s sons wore small turbans, and one of his daughters had the most precious gap-toothed smile. I hugged them all, a gesture I had discovered most gratifying and expedient when wearing a single gown.
After lavishing the children with presents, I escorted them all to the manor’s east wing. “You will live in my finest rooms, my bright stars.”
The mother protested when she saw the master bedroom.
I insisted, saying how I had grown attached to my own guest room. Maid Janny muttered something about “slave to habit.”
The children squealed with delight as they explored four sunlit rooms, all exquisitely furnished with small chairs and beds. Hopping up and down, one girl tried to reach a carnelian embedded into one of the four, jeweled doors. I held her up so she could touch it.
“So red!”
She covered her chubby smile with one hand. “What it doing here?”
“My little luminary,” I said, hugging the child closer, “this is Carnelian’s Room.”
“Why?”
“Never mind the name. If the jewel pleases you, that is enough for now.”
The laughter of children rang down the halls of my manor, yet even amid the excitement of their play, I began to droop with fatigue. Despite my attempts to stay conscious, I found myself sitting on a miniature bed, leaning against the wall.
The gap-toothed girl climbed up to count the amethysts on my gown. I followed her finger amid the sparkling designs, trying to help her with the numbers past seven, yet my voice faded. At the same time, her lashes slid downward, her eyes closing. My purple-gloved thumb brushed a lock of brown hair from her peaceful face, and then I saw no more.
I could not be certain if she fell asleep in my arms
first,
or I in hers. I only knew that I slept with a smile.
Thank you for reading Brood of Bones,
a
tale told of the Lands of Loam.
~
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