Read The Obsidian Temple for Free Online

pacing after Dana to the main house, her tail high and her loud purr following her out the door.
    S A N U R I C L E A NED UP well, Kadar thought. She was still thin but looked much better after a ­couple of meals and a good night’s sleep on a real cot. They’d found space for her in the nursery with Datura and Dana’s son Kris. Dana’s room was connected, and she said she didn’t mind keeping an eye on all three.
    Dana had taken scissors to Sanuri’s curly strawberry hair because it was too matted in places to save. The remaining short curls framed a thin, round face, haloed now by the morning sun. She looked to be about Ava’s age, but there the similarities ended. Ava’s eyes were lively, intelligent. Sanuri gazed placidly around her as she ran her hands up and down the raw silk that made up her robe, engrossed by the texture. She’d played with the tassel on the robe’s tie for the past hour, examining it thoroughly before finally losing interest.
    â€œI wonder where she comes from,” Dana said, looking up from the chair where she was nursing Datura.
    Kadar watched as Dana’s boy, Kris, toddled over to Sanuri and handed her the four long scraps of fabric he’d been given to keep him busy. Sanuri examined the silk, as Kris examined Sanuri. More than ever, Kadar wished it were Farrah rather than Dana nursing his child, Farrah in this scene of family and domestic bliss. He sighed.
    â€œI’ve never seen such a hair color. And those green eyes are like a cat’s,” Dana continued. “She wasn’t wearing the brown of Forsaken, so I can only think she was abandoned because of her problems.”
    â€œFolks in the northeastern isles are colored like her,” Kadar answered, glancing over at her. “Really pale white skin, red hair, and green eyes. Fisherfolk mostly. It rains a lot there, so I guess that skin doesn’t burn like it would here. I wonder how she made it this far. Maybe she was with a group, and they just left her?”
    Sanuri spoke suddenly in the Northern tongue. “You must have men to cover the outside wall. Make certain they have their feli with them,” she said in a strong, clear voice, staring straight ahead. “You are on your own after this.” Then her shoulders slumped, and she went back to playing with the fabric.
    â€œShe was doing stuff like that in the bath, too,” Dana said, shaking her head. “She lives in her own world, that’s for certain.”
    â€œPretty,” Kris said, toddling over and handing something to Dana.
    She took it and gasped. Kadar looked at the object in her hand. It was a rope, a perfectly formed round braid. As he looked closer, he realized it was composed of the scraps of silk Kris had given Sanuri. Kadar himself had never mastered a round braid, trusting other nimble fingers to do the work on the cords and tassels to the robes they sold. He exchanged a bemused look with Dana.
    â€œHere, try this,” he said, and rummaged around in his aunt’s scrap pile, finding eight lengths of silk. He handed it to Sanuri and watched as her nimble fingers flew, twisting the silk into cords, knotting, weaving. Soon she had a very different braid, a loose belt weaving of the strands, but still beautiful and perfectly woven. She tied off the end expertly and handed it back to Kadar, cocking her head and gazing curiously up at him.
    â€œVery good,” Kadar praised her, and a smile bloomed on her thin face. “Beautiful.”
    â€œFisherfolk,” Dana commented. “Are those the ones that do the finger weaving and nets and such? Looks like that might be her talent, if you can get her to do what you want. Your uncle was saying he needed someone skilled with braids for the fabric room.”
    Uncle Tarik poked his head around the doorway. “Kadar?”
    â€œUncle Tarik, look at this!” Kadar said, handing him the two braids. “The girl did