While I've posted a first chapter sneak-peek sample of Between Silk and Sand on my website, I thought it would be fun to give our dear NineteenTeen readers a further sneak-peek into the story...one that occurs at a pivotal point in the story. Enjoy!
* * *
Talnith slunk in, carrying their saddlebags. “This
is an inn?” she sniffed, dropping into a chair. “Don’t see no kitchen. Do the
Day-hans cook their food?”
Saraid looked around the room. The walls appeared
to be of baked mud, smoothed and polished and red in the lantern light.
Hangings made of dyed string knotted into elaborate patterns decorated the
walls, and carved beams supported the high, rounded roof. It was foreign but
attractive in a spare, simple way. “Things are done differently in different
places, Talnith. I expect the kitchen is elsewhere so that it doesn’t get too
hot in here during the day.”
“A clever observation,” said a voice, “which
happens to be correct.”
Saraid managed not to visibly jump—probably because
she was too tired to do so—and turned. A man dressed in Adaihan robes, his hood
drawn partly across his face, leaned against the door the innkeeper’s wife had
vanished through, though far back enough that she couldn’t get a good look at
him. “It seemed to make sense,” she replied.
The man inclined his head, then stepped into the
room from the shadowed doorway. He was tall, much taller than the innkeeper.
“And yes, the Adaihans do cook,” he said to Talnith. “This inn is known for its
good food.”
Talnith looked at him appraisingly. “How would you
be knowin’ that, then? Are you the cook here? And what do the Day-hans eat,
anyway? Sand and rocks?”
He laughed. “No, I’m not the cook. And they don’t
eat sand. Adaihan cooking makes use of plants and animals that can survive in
the desert. Sheep and goats can live here, so expect to see them on your
plates.”
His accent was different, crisper, though with a
trace of the Adaihan vowels she’d heard in the speech of the innkeeper and his
wife. Was he the traveler occupying the other room? Whoever he was, chatting
with a stranger hardly seemed proper. “I am sure whatever we’re served will be
quite edible, Talnith. Thank you,” she said to the man, trying to sound
pleasantly dismissive.
He turned toward her. Saraid got an uncomfortable
feeling that he found her amusing. She’d mentally scolded Captain Zamas for
nearly calling her “Your Highness” a few minutes ago, and now here she was,
acting like one. She took a deep breath and said, “Pardon me if I was
ungracious, but it has been a long ride. Won’t you sit with us?”
“My thanks.” The man sat in the chair across from
her, putting back his hood as he did.
Oh. Whatever she had expected him to look like, it
hadn’t included bright gold hair worn long and a little shaggy, curling around
his ears, and the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. His skin was dark, the weathered
tan of someone who had spent years in the bright, hot sun. Not that he seemed
very old. Somewhere in his twenties, a few years older than she. His brows and
eyelashes were the same gold as his hair, and his smile was open and sunny
despite the lines around his eyes and forehead that somehow seemed older than
the rest of him.
Next to her Talnith sat up straighter. “So tell me
more about this Day-han food,” she said, pouting her lips in a way that
probably was supposed to be enticing. “How good is it?”
“Very good indeed, though it can vary depending on
local customs.” Saraid caught a twinkle in the young man’s eyes as he looked at
them. “I’ve heard that some Adaihan women down south by the Nolorish border
make soup by putting a live hainsh-fowl and
several hatsuan
peppers in a kettle of water and setting it out in the sun at midday, so that
by nightfall it’s nicely simmered.”
Saraid tried to match his solemn tone. “It gets
that hot down there, does it?”
He glanced at her sideways, and the twinkle
deepened. “It does. Though if your fowl is large, you’re best putting it out
earlier, right after you rise in the morning.”
“Ah.” Saraid nodded. “Of course. I should have
guessed as much.”
Talnith shot her a suspicious look, then turned
back to the young man. “That’s just plain nasty. What about
the feathers and all?”
“Oh, the feathers dissolve into the broth, thanks
to the peppers. They give it a distinctive flavor, so it’s said,” the young man
replied. “And the feet stew up nicely, so that they’re quite tender. The
mothers save them for their teething babies to chew on.”
Saraid just managed not to giggle. Talnith looked
queasy. “That ain’t true…is it?”
The innkeeper’s wife came back into the room,
carrying a large pitcher and cups of glazed red clay. She paused when she saw
the man, then set her tray on the table and bowed, looking anxious. “I’m sorry,
sir. I didn’t mean to wake you—”
“Water! I thought I’d never see it again!” Talnith
nearly lunged across the table for the pitcher. She poured herself a cup and
gulped it down, then another.
“Cold palm-mint tea, actually.” The man took the
pitcher from her, poured a cup, and handed it to Saraid, glancing quizzically
at Talnith as he did. “Thirsty, were you?”
“We was dyin’ of it,”
Talnith said dramatically, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. “Old Captain
Stick-up-the-Pants got us lost when we was hiding from those Day—” She broke
off into a grunt as Saraid kicked her foot.
“We were somewhat delayed and running low on water,”
Saraid said blandly. “Talnith, when you’ve drunk your fill, could you bring our
packs to our room?” Where later on maybe Captain Zamas could fit her with a
muzzle. Pox it, she’d warned Talnith
about watching what she said! The fewer details anyone learned about them, the
better. And double poxes on her for ruining the silly conversation they’d been
having with him. She hadn’t had such fun in weeks.
Talnith glowered but didn’t dare argue. “Yes’m,”
she said, and chugged down a last cup of the tea, then followed the innkeeper’s
wife through the door.
Saraid glanced at the young man. His liveliness
seemed to have left the room with Talnith; now he was pouring himself some tea,
staring at the cup with a concentration that the simple act didn’t seem to
require. Was he thinking about what Talnith had just said?
She leaned back against her chair and closed her
eyes as she sipped her tea. Maybe if she drank it slowly, instead of slurping
it down the way she really wanted to, the man would think that Talnith had been
exaggerating. What had he said it was? Palm-mint? Whatever it was, it was
delicious—cool and fresh, like the essence of green. If the Adaihans had
created this, they probably did know a thing or two about food.
When she opened her eyes again, she saw that the
young man was gazing at her with a thoughtful frown on his face. His eyes
really were an amazing shade of blue, weren’t they? Or was their intensity just
due to the contrast with his tanned skin? Maybe—but they looked as though they
were used to looking into far distances and had absorbed the hue of a wide
cloudless sky.
Then she realized that they were staring at each
other.
“I should go see that Talnith is all right.” She
scrambled to her feet, suddenly afraid. By Keranieth, she’d been ready to drown
in those eyes, and he’d been ready to let her. “We’ve been riding all night,
and she’s, um, a little…”
He stood up as well. “I think I know what you
mean,” he said, making a wry face, and she felt absurdly pleased. And then
wanted to slap herself. They were anonymous travelers in a tiny, out-of-the-way
oasis in the Adaiha. He’d more than likely be gone by nightfall, and she’d
never see him again.
“Good ni—or, er, good morning, I suppose.” The
inversion of night and day was starting to get to her.
He smiled. “Sleep well and peacefully.”
She hurried through the door and ran full tilt into
the innkeeper’s wife, who listened to her stammered apologies with a bemused
expression on her gentle face and showed her to her room. Talnith was already
stretched out on a pallet on the floor. Saraid wasn’t at all troubled by her
sudden, ostentatious snores as she tiptoed past. The last thing she wanted now
was conversation with Talnith.
A bowl of gently steaming water, strewn with
fragrant herbs, had been set on a small table. Saraid gratefully washed her
face and hands and collapsed onto the bed, not even bothering to unbraid her
hair. As she slid into sleep, she could still see in her mind’s eye blue eyes
gazing into hers.
* * *
Between Silk and Sand is
available from Book View Cafe, Kobo,
Barnes and Noble, ibooks,
Amazon, Smashwords,
and GooglePlay and can easily be ordered in print from your
favorite local bookstore.
Thank you for celebrating with
me!
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