Night Bird's Reign (56 page)

coed:
forest, wood

Cynyddu:
increase; the time when the moon is waxing

Da:
father
dan:
fire

derwen:
oak tree; sacred to the Druids

Derwen Mis:
oak month; roughly corresponds to December

Dewin:
a clairvoyant; they are physicians; they can Life-Read and Wind-Ride; they revere the goddess Nantsovelta, Lady of the Moon

Disglair:
bright; the time when the moon is full

draig:
dragon; the symbol of the Dewin

draenenwen:
hawthorn tree; sacred to Rheged

Draenenwen
Mis:
hawthorn month; roughly corresponds to late June/early July

Dreamer:
a descendent of Llyr who has precognitive abilities; the Dreamer can Dream-Speak and Time-Walk; the Dreamer also has the other three gifts—telepathy, clairvoyance, and psychokinesis; there is only one Dreamer in a generation; they revere the god Mabon, King of Fire

Dream-Speaking:
precognitive dreams; one of the Dreamer’s gifts

Druid:
a psychokinetic; they are astronomers, scientists, and lead all festivals; they can Shape-Move, Fire-Weave, and, in partnership with the High King, Storm-Bring; they revere the goddess Modron, the Great Mother of All

drwys:
doors

dwfr:
water

dwyvach-breichled:
goddess-bracelet; bracelet made of oak used by Druids

eiddew:
ivy

Eiddew Mis:
ivy month; roughly corresponds to April

enaid-dal:
soul-catcher; lead collars that prevent Y Dawnus from using their gifts

eos:
nightingale; the symbol of the Bards

erias:
fire

erydd:
eagle

Far-Sensing:
the telepathic ability to communicate with animals

ffynidwydden:
fir tree; sacred to the High Kings

Fire-Weaving:
the psychokinetic ability to light fires

gaef:
winter

galanas:
blood price

galor:
mourning, sorrow

goddeau:
trees

gorsedd:
a gathering (of Bards)

greu:
blood

Gwaithdydd:
third day of the week

gwarchan:
incantation

Gwarda:
ruler of a commote

gwernan:
alder tree; sacred to Gwynedd

Gwernan Mis:
alder month; roughly corresponds to late April/ early May

gwinydden:
vine

Gwinydden:
vine month; roughly corresponds to August

Gwlad Yr Haf:
the Land of Summer; the Otherworld

gwydd:
knowledge

gwyn:
white

gwynt:
wind

Gwyntdydd:
fifth day of the week

gwyr:
seeker

haf:
summer

hebog:
hawk; the symbol of the royal house of Gwynedd

helygen:
willow

Helygen Mis:
willow month; roughly corresponds to January

honneit:
spear

Life-Reading:
the clairvoyant ability to lay hands on a patient and determine the nature of their ailment

llachar:
bright

llech:
stone

Lleihau:
to diminish; the time when the moon is waning

lleu:
lion

Llundydd:
second day of the week

llyfr:
book

llyn:
lake
llys:
court

Lord/Lady:
ruler of a cantref

Mam:
mother

march:
horse; the symbol of the royal house of Rheged

Master Bard:
leader of the Bards, must be a descendent of Llyr

Meirgdydd:
fourth day of the week

meirig:
guardian

Meriwydd:
seventh day of the week

mis:
month

morynion:
maiden

mwg-breudduyd:
smoke-dream; a method Dreamers can use to induce dreams

mynydd:
mountain

mynyddoedd:
mountains

naid:
leap

nemed:
shrine, a sacred grove

nerth:
strength

neuadd:
hall

niam-lann:
a jeweled metallic headpiece, worn by ladies of rank

nos:
night

ogaf:
cave
olau:
fair

onnen:
ash tree; sacred to the Dewin

Onnen
Mis:
ash month; roughly corresponds to February

pair:
cauldron

pen:
head of

Plentyn Prawf:
child test; the testing of children, performed by the Bards, to determine if they are Y Dawnus

rhyfelwr:
warrior

sarn:
road

Shape-Moving:
the psychokinetic ability to move objects

Storm-Bringing:
the psychokinetic ability to control certain weather conditions; only effective in partnership with the High King

Suldydd:
first day of the week

tarbell:
a board game, similar to chess

tarw:
bull; the symbol of the Druids

tarw-casgliad:
the ceremony where Druids invite a dream from Modron

telyn:
harp

teulu:
warband

Time-Walking:
the ability to see events in the past; one of the Dreamer’s gifts

tir:
earth

triskele:
the crystal medallion used by Dewin

ty:
house

tynge tynghed:
the swearing of a destiny

Tynged Mawr:
great fate; the test to determine a High King

Tywyllu:
dark; the time when the moon is new

ur:
daughter of

var:
out of

Wind-Riding:
the clairvoyant ability of astral projection

Wind-Speaking:
the telepathic ability to communicate with other humans

wythnos:
week

yned:
justice

Y Dawnus:
the gifted; a Druid, Bard, Dewin, or Dreamer

ysgawen:
elder

Ysgawen Mis:
elder month; roughly corresponds to September

ystafell:
the Ruler’s chambers

ywen:
yew

Ywen Mis
: yew month; roughly corresponds to November

A Special Preview of
Memories of Empire
by Django Wexler

Chapter 1

“The fundamental flaw in their culture is a certain stubbornness, a continued resistance to the world as it is. The clearest example is their religion, worshipping ghosts six thousand years dead, but this trait runs throughout their entire culture. It makes them fearsome in times of strength but pathetic in times of weakness, and it leaves them unable or unwilling to adapt to changing conditions . . .”

–Kabiru Shun,
The Fall of the Sixth Dynasty

T
HERE’S ALWAYS ONE
perfect moment, when the mind has just awoken and consciousness has yet to fully engage—still half-wrapped in dream, eyes open but uncomprehending, until the weight of the world crashes down with all its harsh reality. That moment, Veil had decided, was something to be savored. It slipped away all too quickly. The very act of thinking about it kicked her mind into action, and what had been mere patterns of light and shadow resolved into familiar objects. She managed one clean breath, held it for one perfect moment.

Then memory returned, and Veil settled in for a nice long scream.

O
NE MAN.
I
T
didn’t seem possible.

The scream was very uncharacteristic of Veil. She was not, as a rule, a person who screamed or cried or threw tantrums. Growing up in Kalil’s massive household had taught her a number of important lessons about life, and not the least of these was that screaming and crying rarely accomplished anything.

But, in this case, she felt she deserved a good scream. It helped to burn off tension, that was the main thing, And, once she was done, she was able to look at the situation with a great deal more equanimity. Under other circumstances she might have been worried about her reputation, but since there wasn’t another human being for at least fifty miles in any direction that was also not a concern.

The sun was up, having just cleared the eastern horizon, and was beginning to make itself felt. The day promised to be a scorcher—the sky was blue from edge to edge, not even a wisp of cloud to blunt the heat. Veil could feel the sand, gritty and cold against her back, but already starting to drink in the sun’s rays. In a few hours it would be too hot to touch.

Mahmata lay on top of her, and blood from the wound in the fat woman’s belly had crusted over Veil’s legs. Once she was done screaming, Veil set about freeing herself. This took some time, since Mahmata was quite fat and Veil might have described herself, charitably, as ‘wiry.’ Eventually, though, she managed to wriggle out from underneath the corpse and survey what was left of the camp.

Most of Bali’s men were sprawled on a blood-soaked stretch of sand halfway to the bluff. Low as it was, it was the only decent shade for miles; it was no surprise they’d run into someone. That was where they’d confronted the stranger, and it didn’t look like any of them had gotten more than two steps. Veil wandered over to inspect them, in a stunned state of idle curiosity. Dead bodies didn’t bother her—the spirits were gone, after all, settling into the Aether or snapped up as food for something bigger and meaner.

So what was left to be afraid of? They were all dead—seven men. Vosh, who’d boasted so around the campfire, hadn’t even gotten his sword out of its scabbard. Vosh had voted to pass Veil around at night, as a kind of bonus for the guards. Thankfully Bali had overruled him—apparently her virginity was worth more than a sellsword could offer—but Veil gave Vosh’s corpse a kick anyway and felt a little better.

The other slaves had died, too, tied together and unable to even run. Veil hadn’t known the pair of dark-skinned aborigines very well, since they spoke no Imperial and only a few broken words of Khaev, but fair-haired Silel had come from a clan to the west of Kalil’s. Veil had gotten to know her in a month of traveling—a pretty, empty-headed thing. It was no wonder her father had gotten rid of her; still, she hadn’t deserved to be slashed open like a Mourning fowl, spilling purple and black on the sands. Veil looked at her a moment, and shook her head. In clan lands the corpse would already be covered with flies, or torn apart by coyotes, but nothing lived in the high desert. Not even insects.

Bali, himself, had gotten the farthest. She assumed he’d started to run as soon as his sellswords started falling like trees in a sandstorm, but he’d made the mistake of stopping at his pack to dig out his purses. She found him there, slumped over his gold, run through from behind. Blood had coated the open purse and dulled the gleam of the coins.

She thought about kicking Bali, too, but he was so pathetic in death that adding further insult to his corpse seemed pointless. Instead she bent down to look in the purse. It was filled to bursting, a not-inconsiderable load for a grown man and a hopeless encumbrance for a girl of fifteen. She reached in, delicately, and extracted two fat golden eyes. That had been the slave-price Bali paid her father; more than the usual one-six he paid for children, she remembered, because there was a shortage of virgin girls in Corsa and the brothels were paying double.

Veil tucked the coins into the pocket of her ragged shorts and sat down heavily on the already-warming sands, trying to decide whether or not she wanted to die.

Even that was a bit egotistical, she had to admit.

It’s not as though I have much of a choice.
A hundred miles from home, in the middle of the trackless high desert, with no food and no water other than what she might salvage from the wreckage of the camp. The right thing to do, the logical thing, would be to lie down in the sun, enjoy the warmth, and slowly wither to a mummified corpse. Either that or, if she was feeling brave, borrow a dagger from one of the guards and end it herself.
That would be the logical choice. No food, no water, no help, no chance.