Cartomancy

Chapter One 10th day, Month of the Wolf, Year of the Rat 9th Year of Imperial Prince Cyron's Court 163rd Year of the Komyr Dynasty 737th year since the Cataclysm Derros, Erumvirine Ranai Ameryne waited in the night, cloaked in shadow. She'd been living in the forest outside Serrian Istor for the better part of a week, becoming accustomed to its every aspect. Even in her days as a highwayman in Nalenyr, she had never become so attuned to her surroundings. As an outlaw she found fear and resentment of society constant companions, and they barred her from a union with nature as much as they did from society itself. Here, in the forest, she found peace. She watched life surrounding her, studying the drama of predator and prey. Growing up, she'd had a basic education designed to allow her to fill a role within the vast governmental bureaucracy. That education had taught her that there was an order to all things, and that as long as it remained undisturbed, life was idyllic and perfect. Her teachers had such information on very good authority. Grand Minister Urmyr had codified things with his books of wisdom in the earliest days of the Empire. As he was oft quoted as saying, "The wind is wise, and water wiser still, for none who oppose them can stand. Yet those who travel with them do so at ease and swiftly." And more often than not, such quotes are used to caution one against challenging a more powerful foe. She smiled, aware but uncaring that the scar on her left cheek twisted the smile awry. For those she awaited and would hunt, she would be the wind and the water. She glanced up at the sky. Fryl, the owl-moon, had half its white face hidden by a black crescent. Its position confirmed what she knew in her heart, that the night was nearing its midpoint. Her opponents would soon be released. They would seek her, thinking they were the hunters, but they would be proven wrong. She shivered as the faint echoes of fear ran through her. Up until the previous year's Harvest Festival, she had proven other hunters equally wrong. Her name had been Pavynti Syolsar and, with her companions, she'd preyed on travelers in Nalenyr. The Festival had brought many people onto the road and she'd robbed most of them. She had stood against all of their defendersincluding some very good swordsmenand had defeated them all. Save for Moraven Tolo. She'd not taken him for anything special at first. He had appeared to be nearing middle ageat least middle age for most menthough his long black hair had not been shot with white. He moved easily and without fear. He identified himself as one of the xidantzu, and she'd thought he was just one more of the wandering warriors she'd have to cut down before harvesting whatever gold his traveling companions possessed. Then he told her to draw a circle. A cold trickle ran down her spine even after four months. As good as she was, he was better. He was a Master of the Sworda Grand Master and beyond. He was a Mystic, capable of making magic with his blade. He would have been the wind and water; I could have been earth, fire, and wood, and I could not have stood against him. By rights she should have been dead, but he had chosen not to kill her. He put her through her paces and determined she had some skill with the sword she bore. So he demanded she travel south, to the Virine coast, to join Serrian Istor. Once Master Istor released her, she would spend nine years traveling as xidantzu. She'd undertaken the journey south even though she could have run away at any time. While she had been a highwayman, she had clung to the honor of the swordsman. It was not fear of Moraven Tolo that kept her on her journey. It was the knoStackpole, Michael A. is the author of 'Cartomancy ', published 2006 under ISBN 9780553382389 and ISBN 0553382381.