The Fire Mages' Daughter Read Online Free PDF Page A

Drashona, I suppose, by being good at such things. I could never have been so patient with the merchant who was obviously not telling the whole truth, or the smith who was too terrified to say anything at all. The Kellona at Zendronia was very short-tempered, and if she got an awkward case, with a petitioner who argued or got flustered, she would flounce out and then everyone would have to come back another sun. Cal used to get so cross about it. “As if we have nothing better to do,” he’d storm.
    The Icthari should have been seen first because of their importance, but they were late, so there was a new Durshalon first, and then an ambassador from Ghar’annish, then one of our ambassadors just returned from the Blood Clans where she’d been witness to the crowning of their new god. Crowning or whatever they do when they find a god living amongst them. Exaltation, I think it was called. And the god sounded just like an ordinary boy to me. They had some kind of ceremony for the children when they became adults – something involving blood, naturally – and this particular boy, who was perfectly normal before, became a god. It all sounded very peculiar. I made a mental note to ask the tutors about it.
    Then the Icthari turned up, drifting through in a straggling group, chattering amongst themselves, very rudely, I thought. I’d read about the Icthari, of course, and even seen a few pictures in books, but I’d longed to see some in the flesh. These were my kin! Well, perhaps not these exact people, but they came from the same place as my father. At last I’d get some idea of what he looked like.
    They were not what I’d expected. My mother had told me that my father was handsome and always perfectly dressed. He’d had great style, she said. These people were neither handsome nor stylish. Their clothes looked like rags, slashed and torn, although perhaps that was the fashion where they came from. And their faces were harsh, with thin noses like beaks. They looked a bit like crows, their fluttering clothes raggedy feathers.
    But the Drashona was wrong about one thing, they weren’t speaking Icthari at all. I could understand everything they said.
    When they reached the foot of the dais, they stopped chattering and made small bows to the Drashona.
    “You are welcome to Kingswell and to Bennamore,” she said in her pleasant way.
    “She welcomes you… but quite coldly,” one of the Icthari said.
    “Say we are happy… the usual things,” one of the others said.
    “We are very happy to be in your delightful country,” the first one said, more loudly.
    “Tell her the weather here is shit.”
    “Our accommodation is exceptionally comfortable. The Great One is most pleased.”
    I couldn’t make it out at all. It was the oddest conversation I’d ever heard.
    The Drashona spoke again. “These are the three children of your kinsman, Most Powerful Axandrei, son of the Hal Morinth deshat Shernfashat.”
    “These are the traitor’s spawn,” the first Icthari said.
    The Drashona again. “The eldest is Lady Axandrina, daughter of Lady Mage Kyra abra Dayna endor Durmaston.”
    Traitor? My father? I was so flummoxed that I almost forgot to rise and make my bow.
    The second Icthari spoke. “This one is well-grown. She will have fine tits in a year or two.”
    Then the first. “Your daughter will be a great beauty when she is fully grown.”
    Then Axandor and Zandara were introduced, with the same rude comments from one man, while the other made the sort of bland diplomatic noises that were usual on such occasions. Yet nobody seemed shocked or surprised by any of it.
    I was very slow to work it out. It was only when I remembered that there was supposed to be an interpreter that I realised. The bland comments came from him. And the other man was speaking Icthari, yet somehow I could understand him.
    I sat rigid with shock for the rest of the assembly, as petitioners came forward, were dealt with and vanished again.