Sorry it's taken so long. I didn't like what I was writing. So I stopped. Tell me what you think. Things are going to pick up soon, if they haven't already.

A week had passed since Isra had seen Val, and he always contacted her. She was in her room, kept immaculate by maids Isra still blushed around. Ordering people to and fro wasn't her cup of tea. She had experience in it, of course, a noble always does, but she had never been babied by anyone but her mother. Glaring at the rich silken drapery that enclosed her bed, her eyes traced outlines on the fabric.

A lion hunting. Her father, Hamas, prowling for glory, the tall lion in front of a more sickly beast, the emperor he was trying to impress. There was her mother, Isra thought, a caring woman, a giant elephant, standing watch over her brood, the matriarch that could tame Hamas and love her four children at the same time. Isra smiled. A small white blue and black bird rested on the elephants back. That was her.

Suddenly the door opened and Isra sat up quickly, her eyes widening. In came Zhari, the head of house affairs. A mid-size woman with a head of braids pulled up in a tight bun, she was normally calm and stately, now she was breathing hard from excitement. Isra stood and was surprised to see at least four ladies-in-waiting rush into her room, and begin to go through her clothes and things. She didn't mind - the only things of importance to her were on and in her desk, and the very important things were held in a solid metal case with no hinges or keyholes and more magic than necessary.

"What's going on?" Isra asked, showing her snobbish side.

"There is no time for talking." Zhari said quickly, pulling Isra up and around. "We are expecting an important guest soon, and you must prepare."

"Who? The King?" Isra said, startled as she was tugged behind a dressing room and thrown an extravagant gown that she would never even think of wearing. Jewels were sown into the fringe for Hags sake. She would be carrying ten pounds on collarbone alone if she wore it.

"No, better."

Hag. Better? Urza liked to entertain, but who on earth could cause this stir? After arguing for a more modest dress – they finally settled for a dusty rose gown with a few embroidered flowers and pearls. Not to Isra's tastes, but, she assumed, as good as it was going to get.

Isra sat and gritted her teeth as her hair was pulled at and played with. The horror, Isra thought, trying not to be ungrateful, that some people don't have this. She knew the phrase, you only don't care about money because you have it, and Isra was well aware of her arrogance. Her family could literally throw money away and still have more than they knew what to do with, but she didn't appreciate it. To her, the youngest and the only female of four, money would be given to the man who impressed her father the most, a husband who would be paid to take the girl out of the family.

Isra scowled as a particularly sensitive spot on her scalp was pulled. She got a sharp word from the girl who was trying to apply makeup.

"Why the rush?" Isra asked in between pulls.

"We have only half an hour to get you ready," – it doesn't take me that long to throw on a dress and throw my hair up for the palace nobles, Isra thought bitterly – "We must make a good impression on this guest."

"One of fathers friends?" Isra asked scathingly. It seemed like contacts were the only things that mattered to her father, and he treated his brother like an extension of his house, hoping to gain favor in the Corus courts through Urza.

"You could say that." Zhari said through the pearled hairpins she had in her mouth. Two would have fed a family for a month. Isra rolled her eyes and got another reprimand from the makeup girl. Her eyes were smudged!

The horror. Isra thought. Damn that charcoal.

Thirty two minutes later, Isra was rushed out of her room, decked in pearl drops and stripped of her bangles, something that she had forgotten to protest. Feeling almost naked despite her dresses and petticoats, Isra made her way down to the front entrance to await the unknown visitor.

Standing next to Urza, looking down the line of servants and maids dressed in their finest, Isra hoped that she would be excused soon, she really didn't want to sit through stuffy dinners. Urza was usually very accommodating to Isra, and would normally let her leave, citing classes as a good excuse. Suddenly the doors opened and Isra was snapped out of her reverie for the second time that day.

First came the hand servants, then, amid much pomp and showy hand flourishes, the expected guest came through the door. He was hard to miss.

Tall, with a rugged look about him, the man was obviously Carthaki, with dark hair and dark skin, he didn't look very much older than thirty. His eyes were startling, a deep green that looked like chips of jade. He strode through the front entrance as if he owned the house, dressed like Urza, in traditional garb, the colors reminding Isra of a forest, brown, green and gold. A lot of gold. Carthaki armbands, two rings and a necklace that looked like it could have weighed five pounds. Isra felt out of place, unnecessary amid all this noble pageantry.

The man smiled and strode up to Urza, who smiled in return. They hugged and Isra kept her head bowed.

"Urza zan Shariah." The man said, his voice deep and smooth. "It has been too long. The emperor has driven me from the rocks to the water."

Isra frowned as her Uncle spoke greeting in return, rocks to the water? This man had been all the way across the vast empire of Carthak, she guessed, the mountains in the east the ocean on the west. What sort of man was he? He gave her goose bumps, and she had hardly even been given a glance. She wasn't complaining, hoping that Urza would guide the guest somewhere else and leave her to change.

"And who is this statue?"

Isra resisted the urge to open her mouth, but she did look up angrily – a knee jerk reaction that she immediately softened into an expression of polite interest. The man raised an eyebrow and Isra waited a few seconds, hoping Urza would save her.

"I am Isra," She said, curtsying deeply to her countryman. "Daughter of Hamas je Shariah and Rejah de Shariah"

That was all that was needed, a simple name and lineage. No reason to say anything more. The man bowed in return, though not as deep as it should have been to respectfully return her long curtsy.

"Zanayd van Rahiim, I have no father. My mother was Ghaliya Rahiim."

Isra hid her confusion well. His mother was common, without title and without a suffix denoting her marriage status. How did he get so wealthy? He was obviously noble, but if his mother was common that meant he had to be honored by the emperor himself. What had this man done to make himself so notable?

Zanayd looked over Isra. Just for a second but it made her clench her jaw.

Urza took Zanayd by the arm and began to guide him to the dining parlor. Isra breathed a sigh of relief and began to sidle towards the servants exit, looking for any way out of the sightline of the tall Carthaki. Her uncle, however, turned and called her back.

"Moonflower, join us." He said, not even breaking his step or his speech with Zanayd. Isra clenched her teeth and spun on her heel, acting like a little child deprived of sweets. She took a deep breath and composed herself. Just be boring and bland, she thought, and hopefully he won't talk to you. It's too bad, Isra rolled her eyes, that it won't be hard.

Sitting down in the parlor, they were served Carthaki tea and chick peas that had been ground up and rolled into a light balls. Isra kept her head down and her feet crossed. This lasted about three minutes.

Urza, and then Zanayd, kept trying to draw her into conversation. Isra was able to provide answers in monosyllables for the first few minutes, and then their guest said something that she wouldn't possibly let go.

"Women," He had said, "I don't believe, should do anything other than what their husband tells them to do."

Isra's head snapped up so quick you could almost hear the whiplash down her spine. Her back straightened and her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Oh?" She said politely, putting her cup down and folding her hands in her lap. "Why do you think that van Rahiim?"

"Women don't understand things like men do," He explained, turning to her, his eyes turning to stone as hers turned to ice. "Money, science, magic, they are all beyond the realm of a woman."

"Of course," Isra said, sarcasm practically dripping from her mouth. Urza closed his eyes and prayed to any watching gods to shut his niece up. "Because of our sex we are obviously naturally inept as such things that need to be learned and taught. You don't believe that if a woman received the same education as a man that she would be his equal?"

"There is no such thing as equality." Zanayd said, putting down his tea as well.

"If only because of the fact that professors disallow it. You must educate those who want to learn, but hag forbid if that person is female, no! You can't teach her. She can make meals and babies but she can't form equations or a simple charm."

"You seem to feel this strongly."

"Because I am a product of a flawed system." Isra responded, her back ramrod straight and her hands still folded calmly in her lap. Zanayd looked at her curiously.

"If it has worked for thousands of years, survived drought, famine, and time, why should we alter something that doesn't need it?"

"You may not believe in equality, van Rahiim." Isra said, standing, excusing herself from the conversation. Urza stood as she did and, after a seconds pause, so did Zanayd, "but you must believe in bettering yourself." She turned and left, leaving a bitter silence as she exited the room with the last barb about Zanayd's birth sticking in the air.

"Well," Urza said, trying to recover from his nieces onslaught, although he couldn't say that Rahiim hadn't deserved it all. "She has quite the opinion, doesn't she?"

Zanayd stared after her then sat down slowly, picking his tea up and taking one last long sip, finishing his cup.

"She is strong willed." A challenge.

Isra slammed the door to her room and tore off the dress and jewelry, throwing the too-expensive pieces to the floor with a disdain that would have made Zhari cry. She dressed in her regular clothes and the pouted on her bed, wishing she could be anywhere but here.

A few minutes later came a small knock.

"Come in." Isra said meekly, hoping it wasn't Urza – he was the only one who could make her feel guilty.

Instead came in Zhari, who picked up the rose dress with pursed lips. Isra could tell she wanted to say something.

"Yes?" she muttered, falling back onto the bed, pouting like a girl half her age.

"Did you like him?" Zhari asked, looking over at Isra.

"What?" Isra asked, confused. "Why? He's not my guest."

"Urza didn't tell you?"

Hag damn. What was this? As Isra turned her head and stared blankly at Zhari, the head maid looked at the door, took a step towards her mistress and knelt down, whispering excitedly.

"Lord Shariah has been talking to the Mage," – Mage? What? – "and he has agreed to take you."

Oh hag-

"Lord Mage Rahiim is going to be your husband."

Oh no, please, no. . . .

"The wedding is in two months!" Zhari hissed, taking Isra's horror for stunned approval at the marvelous news. "Isn't that wonderful?" She asked, smiling brightly.

Isra didn't say anything. What could you say to that? She closed her eyes and tried to ignore everything around her. She couldn't do anything, and it was that, more than anything, that made her cry.

Give me some feedback. Next chapter within the week.