![]() ![]() The fair-skinned girl closed her eyes and tried to picture again the great throw she and Irrylath had woven from the feathers of a darkangel. Was it only three daymonths ago that she had come? Three leisurely passes of Solstar overhead, two long fortnights of dark. They called their city Isternes, though in the far place she had come from, Aeriel had known of it as Esternesse. The city had always smelled of that to her, ever since the first day - even the dust blowing in off the Sea. Dusk wind rose, bringing the scent of myrrh. ![]() Aeriel listened to the criers' long, wavering wails, calling the people to prayer. Men with plum-colored skin and long head veils, women in full sheer trousers that gathered close at the ankles passed in the streets below. The spires of the city fanned out before her, beyond the palace walls. ![]() Heaven above spanned black and star-pricked. That sun lay on the far horizon, two hours from setting. The stone was warm from the light of Solstar. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |