The Storm's Own Son (Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

quietly.
    Caelius scratched his chin, and added, "One thing... remind me how old you are?"
    "Twenty five."
    "That's what I thought. If your mother came from the Eastlands by ship, it would have been about the time the Prophet was beginning his conquest of the last countries there he didn't rule, mostly on the western coasts. It was a massive war, and there were refugees who fled west."
    " What do you know about those countries?" asked Talaos.
    " It won't be much help regarding her, but we can look through the travelogues and I'll point things out to you. In those days, Carai did quite a bit of trade with several places there. One is the kingdom of Dragesha, and another was, then, the league of the princes of Lagana, though there are no princes left now. The biggest trade port there is Ishuk, if you'll look here..."
     
    ~
     
    The Cheated Deal was full of rowdy people. Fading sunlight shown through high latticed windows. Wide archways decorated with old, scratched paint in squared geometric designs divided a large main area from several smaller back rooms. Painted prominently in several places were pictures of merchant's scales with thumbs tipping them to one side.
    There was smoke in the air and spilled wine on the brown clay-tiled floor. Crowds formed and dissolved with the flow of conversation, friends coming and going, and deals being made.  In dark corners, alert figures carried on quiet discussions. Serving girls in flowing multicolored skirts deftly slipped through the crowds with hands full of earthenware wine mugs.
    Near the heart of the place, a particularly large crowd of mostly younger men and women gathered at a cluster of tables with an open space in the middle. Their freewheeling, boisterous conversation ebbed and flowed.  In the densest part of the crowd sat Talaos, sprawled on a couch like a great cat holding court, with Sorya at his right hand. She had her rich dark hair bound in a loose-ended bun that cascaded to her shoulders, and two long bangs framed her face. Unusual for her, she wore a black, revealing city-style dress over her lithe form, and her lips were painted red. She looked pensive.
    In the open space at the middle of their group, Katara was demonstrating a variety of kicks, sweeps, and throws. Sometimes she would add a backswept elbow that left no doubt someone's face would have been ill-advised to be in the way, or brought a knee up to a height that made some of the youngest men uncomfortably guard their groins.
    She was dressed in a costume very foreign to the geometric sleeveless tunics and checkered cloaks of the men, and the long, yet revealing dresses of the women around.  She had a plain knee-length woolen kilt on a wide leather belt at her waist, with brown leather panels in front and back, and an exceptionally sturdy, many-strapped leather harness over her ample breasts. She wore a leather band with bronze discs on her head. The rest of her skin was bare.
    Sorya looked up at Talaos, whose eyes casually wandered the room. Her eyes flashed and her pert lips parted as if to speak. Then it passed and was replaced by a wistful, sad expression. She clung herself like a rag doll to Talaos's side, and he put an arm lightly around her.  Katara was continuing her demonstration.
    "And would you really fight in clothes like that?" asked a thin teenage boy with brown hair hanging in rings around his face, and eyes that never left Katara's body.
    Talaos made a bemused smile, his eyes sparkling, as he watched them both.
    The Northwoman stopped, and faced the boy with seriousness.
    "These are inside clothes, or for warm weather. In the cold, we add more. This type of fighting is for times when you do not expect a fight. Or when the other person does not, and you want to keep it that way until the time is right. Most women in the north do not go to war unless we face a strong foe, and all are needed, or all is lost and the men are gone. I do though, and if I was going to battle, I would be wearing