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Iwhere the three moons can be seen at once, stands the Orphanage of the Tri Moons. It is not marked on most maps. You find it by the laundry lines - white sheets snapping in the mountain wind like prayer flags, and by the sound of children reading aloud in the evenings. Lady Katherine is the Matron. She is not old, though the children call her Mother Katherine and the hill folk call her My Lad…
The drums of Ven'dara have not yet sounded. You awaken as Ubar of Ven'dara - stone-walled chamber high in the Central Cylinder, shutters thrown open to the Vosk wind. The Home Stone of Ven'dara rests on its pedestal in the corner, lit by a single oil lamp that has burned all night. You rise from the furs, and the night kajira, silent, kneels head-down by the couch, having kept vigil. "The City…
You set out at first light from the lower gates of Ven'dara, the gift wrapped in oilcloth and tucked safe in your satchel — a heavy glass vial of Deepwell Ink, black as a moonless sea, that never fades Just beyond Ven'dara's orchards, the trail narrows. The old elms remember travelers. The air is cool, damp with morning. You can hear the river Keth below. Takes about half a day on foot. Keep to…
THE GREAT HALL OF VEN'DARA - PLANTING FEAST - UNDER UBAR ORTOSSI [The Main Hall is full. Hearth roaring. Home Stone anointed with grain and wine.] Ortossi stands before the Stone, bowl in hand. To his right, a step behind, stands Hermanus, First Sword of Ven'dara - in feast leathers, sword peace-knotted, arms crossed. To the left of the hearth, kneeling at the edge of the serving furs, is Safor…
I leave Ven'dara on my tarn, the sky is gray with clouds. Pointing the tarn towards Turia, Where my Father has passed . Arriving in time for the Ceremony. This is the full rite as an Initiate The body is laid on the pyre, sword unsheathed at his side, shield at his feet, his scarlet Caste colors about him. He faces the Sardar, to the north. All Free Men bare their heads. Initiate speak…
The Hall falls silent. The long fire pit down the center crackles, smoke rising to the blackened beams. On the stone hearth a whole tarsk turns, fat dripping. Platters are already laid - seared bosk steak, sul porridge, black bread, yellow Turian cheese, bowls of olives and sliced larma. A skin of paga and a pitcher of ka-la-na wait at the high seat. The guard at the door strikes his spear but…