David Weber - Hell Hath No Fury

Taleena made a soft sound on his shoulder, and he reached up and stroked her wings once again.

"I know, My Lady," he said gently. "I know. I miss him, too."

Taleena touched the back of his hand very gently with her razor-sharp beak, and chan Skrithik looked across at chan Braikal once more.

"His horses and his sword are going home, Chief," he said. "And you and his platoon are taking them."

"Yes, Sir." Chan Braikal's voice was husky again.

"Tell them for us, Chief." Chan Skrithik looked into the Marine's eyes. "Tell them all. This fort, the cemetery, it's ours. He bought it for us, and no one and nothing will ever take it away from us again."

Andrin Calirath sat on her bedroom window seat, staring out into the moon-soaked gardens of Calirath Palace, and wept.

Her tears were nearly silent, and she sat very still, watching the moonlight waver through them. She wept for the brother she would never see again. She wept for her parents, who would never again see their son. She wept for all the other mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, and daughters who would never see their loved ones again.

And she wept for herself.

In the cold, still hours of the night, it was hard. She was only seventeen, and knowing that what she must do would save thousands, possibly even millions of lives-even agreeing to do what she must do-was cold and bitter compensation for the destruction of her own life. She was frightened, and despite her youth, she had few illusions about what sort of marriage Chava Busar and his sons had in mind for her.

She knew her strengths, knew the strength of her parents' love, how fiercely they would strive to protect her. Yet in the end, no one could protect her from the cold, merciless demands of the Calirath destiny. At best, it would be a marriage without love, without tenderness. And at worst-

She folded her arms, trying to wrap them around herself, not because she was physically cold, but because of the chill deep inside.

She was going to spend her entire life married to the son of her father's worst enemy. Her children would be the grandchildren of her family's most deadly foe. She could already feel the ice closing in, already sense the way the years to come would wound and maim her spirit, and she wished-wished with all her heart-that there could be some escape. That Shalana could somehow find that single, small scrap of mercy for her. Could let her somehow evade this last, bitter measure of duty and responsibility.

But Shalana wouldn't. She couldn't. "I stand between." How many Caliraths had given themselves to that simple, three-word promise over the millennia? Janaki had given his life to that promise, and Andrin could do no less than sacrifice her life to it, as well.

"Sho warak, Janaki," she whispered. "Sho warak. Sleep, Janaki. Sleep until we all wake once more. I love you."

She put her head down on the back of the padded window seat and let her tears soak into the upholstery.

She never knew how long she wept into the window seat's satin before, with absolutely no warning, her bedroom door opened, spilling lamplight into the darkened room. She jerked upright, spinning towards the brightness, but her angry rebuke for whoever had dared to intrude upon her died unspoken.

Lady Merissa Vankhal stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the light. There was a chair just outside the door behind her, one which hadn't been there when Andrin went to bed, with a blanket tossed untidily across it, and Lady Merissa herself was clad in a silken sleep robe over her night dress, devoid of the least trace of make-up, her hair all awry. Andrin had never seen-never imagined-her fussy, propriety-obsessed chief lady-in-waiting in such disarray, and she wondered what fresh cosmic disaster could have driven Lady Merissa to her bedroom in such a state.

Yet before she could even start to frame the question, Lady Merissa crossed the bedroom to her and, to her utter astonishment, Andrin found herself enfolded in a tight embrace.

"Oh, my love," Merissa whispered in her ear. "Oh, my poor love. I didn't hear you-I didn't know."

Andrin felt herself beginning to crumble in that totally unexpected, immensely comforting embrace.

Lady Merissa sat down on the window seat beside her, and a corner of Andrin's brain wondered just how ridiculous they looked. She was a foot taller than Lady Merissa, yet Merissa cradled her as if she were a child, and Andrin abandoned herself to the comfort of that touch.

"There, love," Merissa murmured, stroking her back while she sobbed. "There, love."

Andrin clung to her, as if the fussy, fluffy, irritating lady-in-waiting were the last solid rock in her universe, for that was precisely what Lady Merissa had become.

And then someone knocked gently on the bedroom door.

Andrin stiffened, and Lady Merissa's spine straightened with an almost audible snap.

"Really!" she huffed. "Is this a grand imperial princess' bedroom, or is it the waiting room down at the local train station?!"

She set Andrin aside gently, then came to her feet, straightening her robe, and stalked across the enormous bedroom towards the door, muttering as she went.

"Can't leave the poor girl in peace," Andrin heard floating malevolently back from her remorselessly advancing lady-in-waiting. "Middle of the night, for goodness sake! Coming bursting in on her, keeping her awake at all hours! I'll give you a piece of my mind, just wait and see if I-!"

Lady Merissa reached the door and yanked it open. A Palace maid stood there, hands folded anxiously, and the poor young woman ought by rights to have burst spontaneously into flame under Lady Merissa's fiery glare.

"Well?" Merissa snapped at her luckless victim.

"Beg pardon, Lady Merissa!" the maid said quickly. "I wouldn't ever have disturbed Her Grand Imperial Highness, not ever! But they insisted."

"Who insisted, girl?" Lady Merissa demanded. "And what could possibly be so important that it couldn't wait until morning?"

"I'm sure I don't know what's important, My Lady!" the maid said. "But it's Privy Voice Yanamar and Voice Kinlafia. They say they have to talk to Her Grand Imperial Highness right away!"

Aeravas-a Sharonian city in Harkala; located in approximately the same place as Shiraz, Iran.

Alathia: one of the provinces of the Ternathian Empire, it is the trans-temporal analog of Italy.

Andara-the Arcanan equivalent of the continent of North America. Andara is the home of the warrior kingdoms of the Andarans and provides the backbone of the Union of Arcana's military.

Arau Mountains-the Sharonian equivalent of the Yoblonovy Khrebet mountain range east of Lake Baikal.

Arcana-the home universe and Earth of the Union of Arcana. Its physics are based on "magic."

Arpathia-the Sharonian equivalent of the area stretching from the Caspian Sea through the Siberian tundra north of Mongolia to the Pacific Ocean. While there is no united government for this region, it is often referred to as the Septentrion, which is a trade union developed by the septs (see Septs and Septentrion, below).

Aruncas of the Sword-the Uromathian god of war.

Baranal-literally, "protector" in old Andaran. A baranal is the individual responsible for protecting a shardon (see below).

Barkesh-a city in Sharona located at the approximate trans-temporal site of Barcelona, Spain.

Bergahl-the dominant deity of the Order of Bergahl. Bergahl is a god of both war and justice. His order is a militant one, which has traditionally provided the judges and law enforcement mechanism in the Kingdom of Othmaliz.

Bergahl's Comforters-an ironic nickname for Berghal's Dagger (see nelow).

Bergahl's Dagger-a highly militant cult within the Order of Bergahl. The Dagger was officially disbanded over a hundred years ago.