Anjana stripped off her boots, exhausted nearly beyond belief.
The armory was deserted, for not even a mouse stirred on the cool floor below her feet. She had been delayed on the way back from patrol; her horse's shoe had suddenly splintered, and she had already remained behind so she could more closely examine something that she had noticed on the ride out from Kalsini. As she was passing a date palm, she had seen that a cross and an eye had been hacked into its bark. Anjana had dismissed it as a childish prank, until she and her company were returning from the border. She recalled, as a child, that her parents and older siblings had forbidden her from playing where the scouts ran their patrols, as orcs and bandits frequently strayed within the boundaries of the Haradwaith. She doubted a group of children would stray so far from their mothers into an area about which the patrols brought home chilling tales at least every few months. The sign had been irking her all the way back, and when she has passed the tree a second time, she noticed something that made a chill creep up her spine.
Above the cross and the eye was a third image-a crude carving of her husband's amulet, the seal which was the symbol of the krigsherre's rule. No one had been in sight. It disturbed her, as if there was some meaning behind the symbols. She thought back to the orc attack which had occurred three weeks previously, and wondered if the two could possibly be connected. Although Mordor had long been silent and still, there were, betimes, days when a wind from the north would carry with it a foul stench, and the feeling, rather than the sound, of something stirring on the other side of the black mountains.
Lashanth was already in bed by the time she reached their chambers, and he murmured and sat up, still half-asleep, as she put on her nightgown and climbed into bed beside him.
"You look troubled," he said quietly, opening his eyes and propping himself up on his elbow to look at her. "What ails you, sweetheart?"
"I found some strange carvings on a palm while I was on patrol today," she answered, relaxing in his embrace. "None of my company could have done it, and certainly none of the children..."
"The lads have been growing more daring, but I think even they know not to stray near the border," Lashanth said with a frown. "I shall alert the watch, and tell them to send a few men out to the border tonight."
"No, I sent a dove ahead before I returned," said Anjana. "Twenty men should be there now. They passed me when I was five leagues from here."
He nodded. "Good." Lashanth scrutinized her face more closely, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "There is something more troubling you, Anju."
"The winds from Mordor bear a strange voice nowadays, as if the dark one has returned," said Anjana. She turned her face up to his, finally unveiling the nameless fear that lurked in her heart. "You know that Sauron took the Variags from Khand-our own Southrons-the Easterlings of Rhun-yanked them from our lands until the leaders of Rhun allied themselves with Him and turned upon us and upon Khand."
"If he returns, this will be the fate we will come against," answered Lashanth. "There is naught else that will come to pass, and every Haradrim within our border knows it to be so."
"We must ward ourselves from him," said Anjana, a spark kindling in her black eyes. "Send emissaries to the other Eastern nations-"
"All in good time," he said. "Trust me when I say that when the time to act comes, we will know. For now, we will have to ward our borders with the priestesses' song-magic, and cast the spells well. Do you know anyone who would be willing to lead the rites?"
"Song-magic is taxing, Lasha, and to lead such a tiring endeavour would easily kill a delicate priestess. You know this as well as I."
"But you know as well as I that there is only one young priestess suited to the job, and she is one whom it would be hard to kill with a meat-axe." Anjana smiled t his words. "Why, I've seen her work magicks which would even tire you on the best days, and without even a change in her breathing."
"Payesha," Anjana smiled. "That one has the vim and energy I have seen in no other woman."
"Of course," said Lashanth, wrapping an arm about her waist. "Ask her tomorrow, and I shall have as many priestesses accompany her as can be spared. It would be a tragedy indeed if one of them perished in the act. Now sleep, Anju. We have much to prepare for tomorrow."
"Payesha, child," called Lashanth, picking out his wife's apprentice among the swarm of girls heading for the midday meal. "Anjana would like to see you in the council chambers. The gathering shall discuss the preparations for the fire moon."
Payesha left Ninitha and Khala and made her way toward her liege.
"Preparations for the fire moon?" she asked, perplexed. "Why would she need me? I know none of the protective enchantments at all."
"You may be needed for some of the heavier spellwork, and she will teach you anything that you may be required to learn," he explained. "This year is hotter than the last, and I would have us better prepared."
She bowed her head and followed him to the underground councilchamber, where they found an assembly of thirty awaiting them. There were two seats at the head of the table; Anjana filled the one on the left, while Lashanth dropped into the one at her right. Payesha found the chair on Anjana's other side, and then turned her eyes expectantly to her mistress, who nodded at the other members of the council.
"How well-protected are the livestock and dwellings for the fire-month?" she asked. To the woman at Payesha's left, she said, "And what of the amulets for the citizens?"
"We have required all of the citizens to come to the out-posts and have the amulets bound into their hair," explained the matron, whose name was Ronin. "Not a one has been neglected, not even the new-born children. For those babes due to be born in the next month or so, we have given their amulets to the mothers."
Anjana nodded and turned to a man sitting close to the other end of the table.
"Every beast west and north of the border has had the charms embedded in its hide," he said, puffing up his chest proudly. Anjana suppressed a smile with difficulty, for he was her younger cousin, and this was his first season on the council. "And every dwelling is warded as well."
"Good, then. And the reservoirs for the rain after?"
"They are completed, my lady, and are ready to be brought out the moment the rains begin."
"As ever, the spellwork that takes place within the citadel often wars with the fireward, and so yet again we must appoint a group of spellcasters for the work. Those among you who teach the young mages: which among your fellows and your pupils have the power for this task?" Lashanth cast his eyes to the left side of the table, where the senior spellweavers sat.
"To join us, we shall have Taniya Qais, Kiev Badhar, Finir Ilvesara..." the list went on, until about twenty were named. "Are we correct in saying that you will join us, Queen Anjana? And Payesha as well?"
"I may not be able to take part in the enchanting," said Anjana reluctantly. "For with orcs daring to cross our borders, I shall have to be at the posts day and night in the coming weeks. But yes, Payesha will join you."
After waking four days previously, Glorfindel had been left almost wholly to himself. Every hour, an apprentice or an older healer would visit his room, examine him, question him briefly in fluent or halting Westron, and then depart to see to their other duties. Payesha, the healer who had first woken him, had been to see him only once, shortly after noon that day. She had brought him the noon meal-mutton stewed with a collection of unfamiliar vegetables-and bidden a serving-boy to remain in the room to wait on him. He had been rather taken aback, and found himself somewhat discomfited by the lad, whose sharp eyes followed his every movement like that of a curious bird.
"How many summers are you, child?" he asked. The boy cocked his head and raised both his palms with the fingers spread wide. "Should you not be at your lessons?" he asked, privately displeased at the fact that the palace seemed to employ servants that were little more than babes-in-arms.
"These be my studies," said the boy in heavily accented tones. "Only when I have reached thirteen years of age shall I have proved my obedience and respect to my masters, and they will begin to teach me the arts of healing. All the children of the city must spend three years serving, be they lowly born or high, and obey their masters' every command."
"And your master's order was to serve the invalids?" he asked, a smile quirking at the corner of his lip despite himself.
"Nay, my usual work is to fetch tinctures and salves for the others," said the boy placidly. "But the Queen herself gave me to the Lady Payesha the day you were wounded, to act on your behalf in her stead when she was elsewhere. I am to be your servant until my lady sees fit to return me to Master Hakim."
"Lad, I need no servant," said Glorfindel gently. "It is many years indeed since I was wounded or waited upon, and I would not keep you from your learning. I do not believe I must needs remain more than another week or so."
"Then for that week, I am your servant," said the lad, as unruffled as ever. "Were you to give me no order at all, or banish me from the room, still I would remain, for I am in the service of one higher than you."
"Do you wish for an order?" asked the elf, amused at the child's disposition.
"Nay, lord," came the reply. "I wish for nothing. I am fed and housed and clothed by my master, and given by him my hours of leisure and learning. I have no wish at all save your recovery at present, and am content to remain here in silence if that be your will."
"Has this glorious hall a place where books are kept?" questioned Glorfindel.
"Aye, and there are volumes in Westron, if you desire them," said the child, springing to his feet. "Would you have me fetch some?"
"If it does not trouble you, small one," said the elf, inclining his head. "I give you my thanks. Before you depart-how are you called?"
"Shasta," said the lad. The boy darted away, and Glorfindel leaned back upon the pillows.
It was at that moment that a terrific crack sounded outside the window, and the sunlight was suddenly veiled. Shasta skidded back into the room, his face alight.
"The firestorm!" he shouted, running to the window and throwing back the panes. "My Lord, the firestorm has come at last!"
"Firestorm?" asked Glorfindel, pushing himself from the bed and making his way across the room with legs that hardly trembled.
"Have they none where you come from?" asked Shasta incredulously. "Look!"
Glorfindel looked beyond the high walls of the citadel at a great mass of black and purple clouds, sweeping in from the horizon and moving as if on wings. They rumbled ominously, but there seemed to be not a trace of rain-nor of fire, despite what the child had said.
"Come, my lord, come! They are raising the lightning poles!"
Supported on Shasta's eager arm, Glorfindel left the room and joined the swarm of people that had suddenly filled the corridors. Some were flying up the stairways to the uppermost levels, eager for the finest view of the spectacle, but many more were rushing downward to glimpse the lightning from the sands below. Shasta joined the former crowd, pulling the elf behind him, until they reached what Shasta explained was the tenth level of the citadel. There, he found a balcony for himself and Glorfindel to sit in. He had drawn up a chair for the elf, who scarcely noticed it at all-for he was clinging to the balustrade, eyes wide, watching the melee streaming into the desert beneath them. Some were clearly sorceresses, for they had taken ponies and ridden as far forth as they dared, stopping at places in the sand-all facing the coming storm. They raised their hands and the sand began to flow from below them, sinking until it revealed gleaming metal poles lying lengthwise in the earth, scattered through the sands as far as the eye could see. Each one was attached to a system of cranks and wheels, and the sorcerers leapt nimbly off their horses and began to turn, until all of the lightning-poles rose into the air as one; even the shortest of them towered well above the roof of the citadel. The remaining spellcasters turned back and seemed to be raising some wort of ward about the crowd.
Shasta laughed in relief and scrambled up onto the balusters beside Glorfindel.
"Now it will begin," he said, all a-tremble with excitement. "You shall see."
Glorfindel's eyes grew nearly to the size of saucers as the clouds changed color, with great flashes of orange and gold gleaming and dying by turns within them. Each piercing glow was accompanied by a thunderous roar, until at last the clouds trembled and belched forth a river of lightning. Not white, as Glorfindel had expected, but fiery gold and burning orange, like the thickest branches of living trees. The palest bolts streaked toward the lightning-poles, striking them and illuminating them in a storm of riotous color-and were gone in a heartbeat, streaming harmlessly into the sand. The elf could feel his own heart galloping over the bellowing of the heavens, and he put his hand to his chest in a vain attempt to steady its beating.
"Valar," breathed Glorfindel, a strange mixture of terror and joy crowding up into his breast.
"It is lovely, is it not?" came the satisfied voice of Shasta from beside him.
Glorfindel said nothing, for his speech had been stolen by the wild, deadly beauty that filled the skies above him.
