Reign of Shadows - Deborah Chester [90]
Bixia gazed down at the commander with a smug gleam in her green eyes. “You have served well, General Handar,” she said in a bored voice. Her gaze moved beyond him, to the steps where more women in black robes had appeared. “We thank you. Farewell.”
It was a moment before he looked up. Something flickered in his eyes—disappointment or chagrin, perhaps—at her short reply. He rose to his feet and saluted. His dark face might have been carved from wood as he bowed quickly to Elandra and turned away.
As soon as he was remounted on his horse, he bawled out commands. The Gialtans galloped away, leaving a cloud of dust and the echoing thunder of hoofbeats behind.
Meanwhile, the general of the Imperial Guard was giving his arm to Bixia, who smiled and used her eyes to flirt above her veil. Together, they crossed the dusty clearing. Elandra tried to follow, but Hecati gripped her arm and held her back.
“No,” she said in a low, sharp voice. Hecati’s face was pale and marked by dark circles beneath her eyes as though the journey had been a terrible strain. Even now, with Bixia safely delivered, Hecati looked tense and nervous as she glared at Elandra. “You will wait outside with the servants until Lady Bixia is received by the Magria and properly welcomed in.”
Elandra’s cheeks burned beneath her veil, but she retreated obediently to the elephants. The handlers were still unloading baggage. Magan stood guarding Elandra’s bag. Without glancing at the maidservant, Elandra took a place beside her. Hecati hurried after her niece.
At the steps, the general and Bixia paused. There was a moment of silence, broken only by the snorting of the horses and the restless mumbling of the elephants, which were to continue to Imperia as part of Bixia’s dowry gift to her future husband.
The Penestricans had been waiting quietly on the steps. Now, however, they descended to the bottom. One woman, young and beautiful, with pale straight hair flowing down her back, walked ahead of the others. A pair of gnarled old crones with terrible mutilation scars on their bare arms followed her. They carried tall wooden staffs. The rest of the sisterhood lined the steps on either side, holding burning candles that seemed odd in the bright sunshine.
The leader’s eyes were a clear blue. Her gaze swept everyone, then fixed upon Bixia. “I am Anas,” she said in a voice that carried easily.
It was almost as though the cliff walls surrounding them formed a natural amphitheater.
Anas’s voice made Elandra think of crystal—melodic in a sharp, piercing away.
“I am deputy to her Excellency, the Magria. I bid you welcome.”
The general bowed low enough to make his armor creak. “The Lady Bixia,” he said by way of introduction. Frowning, he glanced around as though seeking Elandra, but Hecati gave him an impatient pinch and he faced the deputy again. “Also, the Lady Hecati, sister-in-law to Lord Albain, and Lady Bixia’s aunt.”
He seemed to have a ritualized speech prepared, but even as he opened his mouth, one of the Penestricans lifted her wooden staff with a sharp gesture and pointed it at the sky.
A streamer of dark cloud appeared to obscure the sun, as though it had been wiped away with a rag.
Elandra gazed upward in astonishment. She could have sworn a moment ago the sky had been cloudless. A shiver passed through her. It was said the Penestricans commandedmany of the old ways. Did they govern the heavens as well as the earth and its growing things?
“Where is the other one?” Anas asked. “We were told, General, that both of Lord Albain’s daughters would be brought to us.”
Bixia tossed her head, but Hecati turned halfway around and snapped her fingers