Mara - The Lady Grief (Completed)

4 A Curse on the First

2652 B.C.E., The Desert

Late Summer, Month of Ululu, Six Months from Mara's Rebirth

Thane

Life is fabulous. Lord of my House, the most powerful Tasuri of my generation, with my first son, the future of the First House on the way, I should be happy. I should be reveling in life, in my own success, right now.

Then why am I here, outside of the city walls, in the midday heat of the desert, with sand blowing every which way into my eyes?

Because my beloved Bonded, Anthea, at five months pregnant, wishes to see the nomads. Those dark-eyed, mean people living on the humped, woolen bodies of their pack animals as they travel through the harsh desert. I owe Anthea, she made my future less bleak, and I must indulge a pregnant female, right?

I shove the handkerchief higher on my face to cover my nose and mouth. Breathing in the irritating grit is nothing I enjoy. Tmari's high walls keep more than invaders out.

"Thane, look!" Anthea's muffled voice draws my attention to where she is eagerly pointing. The tent is larger than others with a dark blue roof painted with stars. A fortune teller. Gods, spare me.

Rolling my eyes, I accompany my bonded into the large domed tent. A fortune teller is an obvious money-making scheme. The true soothsayers and oracles are found inside the temples of the city, not out here in the desert. No gods bless the nomads with such gifts as the Sight. Any true oracle would be snatched up by one of the House Lords to serve in the city.

"Welcome, Lord and Lady of the First House," a young darkling girl greets them. Deep grey wings are folded tightly to her back, talons peeking out of the fingerless gloves on her hands. Slanted, crystal blue eyes are startling, staring with a wisdom far beyond the years shown on the youthful face. She is a skinwalker, a child who cannot change herself entirely into a wild creature, nor fully fold her other spirit into herself. A half-breed of impure blood who has been cursed, rather than blessed. Only those who are not favored by any one god is left so... disheveled.

"Hello," Anthea greets the girl doubtfully. I can tell that already the interest in seeing the fortune teller is waning. These half-breeds are not allowed into the First House or many of the homes of nobles inside the city. It is not a pleasant sight to see now.

Some believe that the malformed are still better than the Acera, those born without any shifting at all. I disagree, the pure forms of those females and males are... pleasant.

"My grandlady is ready to see you, Lord Thane."

I jerk a little, my hand pausing in removing the cloth from my face. For a moment I wonder how this child knows me, but then I assume that all of the nomads know about the Lord and Lady of the First House visiting their piddling little fair.

"I am not here for my fortune, girl," I sneer a bit.

She merely smiles. "No?" She looks at Anthea, "and you Lady? Perhaps you wish a fortune told for your son?"

Anthea's hand drops to her stomach protectively. "No," she murmurs, looking at the girl as if she stares at a venomous snake.

The eerie eyes turn back to me. "I think you should meet my grandlady, Lord Thane. After all, prophecies and curses will come true whether you chose to listen or not."

Hearing the word prophecy is as jarring as the girl herself. As if compelled, I follow the girl into dark interior, leaving my bonded and unborn son behind. Pushing through layer after layer of silken cloth, every step makes the air I am breathing in more stifling.