A Song of Snow and Ashes
By S. J. Drew
Text and Cover Art Copyright S. J. Drew 2011
Eliora’s pen scratched across the coarse paper almost automatically as she half-listened to the spirited debate on the prices of spices coming in on the desert caravans. She was a young woman in her early twenties with waist-length glossy black hair bound up in a complicated braid, dark brown eyes, and a dark complexion. As the voices of the Councilors droned on, her mind started to wander.
She found herself standing out in the middle of the open, deep desert. There was no wind, no sound, and no one else. "Hello?" she called out. There was no answer from the empty dunes. The hot sun beat down on her beige robes. "What's going on? How did I get out here?" she thought. She looked around again. "Where am I? How do I get home?" She sat down. Sand skittered down the tall hill. She took a deep breath and told herself not to panic. She looked around yet again, but there was nothing except open, empty desert as far as the eye could see. After a few moments contemplating her situation, she realized that the sand had not stopped running down the hill. "Oh, no," she whispered, recognizing the signs of an impending sand slide. She scrambled down the hill, and made it to the base when she felt the dune slip. An odd, muffled rumbling filled her ears, causing her to pause. She glanced over her shoulder, swore, and tried to run faster. Within seconds, she was overtaken by the suffocating sand.
"No!" she burst out. Her pen and ink bottle clattered to the floor. She blinked a few times trying to re-orient herself. Suddenly she became aware that she was still in the Council Chamber, and everyone was silent and staring at her. "Sorry. Sorry," she said in a small voice. Her face was flushed with embarrassment as she picked up her papers and pen with trembling hands.
Many of the Councilors shot her contemptuous looks, and then continued with their discussion.
She blotted away the spilled ink and calmed herself. She dutifully recorded the minutes of the meeting, which lasted the remainder of the afternoon.
When the Councilors were finally done, she quickly started to pack her things away. She organized the papers, turned in the minutes to a filing scribe in the Scribe Office, signed out, and walked quickly down the hallway to the front doors.
"Eliora!" The sharp call came from a male voice.
"So close," she sighed, and turned around.
A man in his late thirties, with long black hair, a beard, mustache, dark eyes, and dark skin, hurried up to her. He looked angry. "Councilor Quasim has just been in my office."
"Has he?" she replied, trying to act surprised.
"He said that the scribe assigned to record the Caravan Trade Sub-Committee was daydreaming. And when I say, 'he said,' what I really mean is that he was yelling. Loudly."
"I'm sorry, Izak," she said contritely.
"Now, I know that these committee meetings are not very exciting, and I understand if your mind wanders, but actually interrupting the meeting is inexcusable. You know better than that."
"I'm sorry."
"Eliora, this is not a minor complaint. You can't just burst out in the middle of a meeting," he scolded. "If you don't start paying more attention, I'm afraid you'll have to be formally reprimanded."
"Oh, no, please. I'm really sorry. I can't have a black mark on my record, not now. I won't get promoted. You know how hard I work."
Her supervisor sighed. "Yes, I know you have worked hard to get where you are. But you have to pay attention. This is just one little sub-committee. Imagine if you had fallen asleep during one of the debates on defense or war. I can't have scribes who let their minds wander in high positions."
"I'll do better, Izak," she replied. "I promise. It won't happen again. Just please don't write me up."
"This is your only warning, Eliora. I don't want you to get into trouble. But if there's another transgression, severe or not, I will not hesitate to put that black mark on your record…"
"Yes, sir, absolutely. I'll be completely focused."
"Good. Now, I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yes. Thank you," she replied, and quickly made her way home.
The Council Hall was located in the heart of the city of Nahaar. The city was capitol of Shrimah, home to well over fifty thousand inhabitants and one of the largest on the desert continent. Blessed with an abundant underground water supply, it had grown to become a trade center. Caravans were constantly moving through on their way to the ports to the west or back into the deserts. Ducking and dodging, she made her way through the bazaar, avoiding aggressive vendors, angry customers, and pickpockets. Roads near the downtown area and along the trade routes were wide enough for caravans and paved, but most roads were much narrower and made of desiccated, hard-packed dirt. After an hour of walking, she turned down a narrow road and stopped in front of a tiny two story house. It was made out of mud-brick and bleached white by the sun. Even though it was technically winter, it was still blazing hot in the late afternoon sun, and she was exhausted by the time she made it home. She entered without knocking and dropped her shoes right inside the door with the other pairs.
The bottom floor of the house was divided into a small kitchen area and a large sitting area. The sitting area had little furniture, only a low table, large cushions, and low stools sitting on a carpeted stone floor. Oil lamps were hung against the wall. The kitchen area had a stove and several shelves to hold food and dishes. The back door opened to the courtyard, a space created and shared by the ring of houses around the block. To the left of the back door was a staircase that led to the sleeping quarters upstairs.
"Hello, Mother," Eliora called.
A forty-something woman was busy in the kitchen, along with a younger woman of about nineteen. They all had dark skin, dark eyes, and black hair bound up in complicated braids, although the older woman's hair had visible streaks of gray. They were also both wearing long robes made out of folds of beige cloth designed to transport heat away from the body. The older woman had a light colored cord woven through her hair, a sign of married status.
"Hello, Eliora. Your father isn't home yet. Come help Meorah."
Eliora dropped her things off in her room and returned to the kitchen to help the younger woman. "Where are the twins?"
"Outside playing," answered Meorah.
"Where's Oriel? Shouldn't she be home by now?"
"She's helping the temple get ready for the ceremony tonight," her mother answered. "It's the solstice, you now."
"Is it? I forgot."
At that point, a man entered the household. He was also wearing flowing beige robes, but the way they sat on his body indicated that he was wearing some sort of armor underneath. A well-used curved sword hung from his belt, clearly on display. He had a long black ponytail wrapped with a light colored woven cord, a sign of his married status. His hair and neatly kept short beard and mustache also bore streaks of gray. "Adiva, I'm home," he called, pulling off his heavy boots and setting them next to the other shoes.
The mother walked up to him and embraced him. "Hello, Lior, my love. You're late."
"I am sorry, beloved, but the Captain put us through a few extra drills to make sure we were prepared for any trouble this evening."
"Who would interrupt a religious ceremony?" asked Meorah.
"I don't know, but it's best to always be prepared," he replied. Then he went upstairs to change clothes.
Adiva returned to the kitchen and soon they finished up dinner. Lior came back downstairs and talked about the security for the ceremony.
"Call your sons and tell them dinner is ready," said Adiva with a smile.
He walked to the open back door. "Tamas, Tomek, come in now, boys
."
Identical twins of about sixteen stopped their practice sword fighting and entered the tiny house.
"Shoes!" the mother called.
The boys dropped their shoes and helped get everything ready for the evening meal. Pillows were cleared out of the sitting room, and dinner was served on the low table in the middle of the floor. In a few minutes, a woman who was barely twenty years old entered the house.
"I'm sorry I'm late for dinner," she apologized immediately.
"It's alright, Oriel. Sit down so we won't be late for the ceremony," replied Adiva. "We'll be attending the ceremony on the eastern side, but it's still a long walk."
She immediately did so, and the family started to talk amiably, except for Eliora, who was quiet. Dinner was finished a little abruptly due to the time constraints. The family locked up the house and headed to the outskirts of the city rather than to the main Temple of Light in the center of