Chapter Thirty Seven – Telleya – A Sandy Plot

My tiny room was empty.

Now, I never had much stuff in the first place.

A small bundle of cloth stacked over filled sandbags. A lopsided table that was missing the drawer piece it once had. The few articles of clothing I owned and my sandstorm cloak that were usually hanging up on the wall to my left…

Even though my room didn’t even have a door, in all my years I’ve never had anything go missing before. No one’s ever stolen from me.

Yet…

They were all gone. Missing. All that remained was the small layer of sand on the floor.

Even the small pot that had a dead tree sapling was gone.

Who would take my measly belongings? Just because I’ve been gone for a few day’s as well?

Surely by now some of the wealth given to us by Noth would have been dispersed a little, if anything as a show of regained strength… So who would…?

“Telleya!”

Looking to the young guardsman, I noticed his clothing was fresh and similar to the Front-Line’s. As I had expected.

I didn’t remember his name, but I remembered his misshapen beard. It looked silly. “You’ve been summoned, by Grandfather Jorma,” he said calmly as he approached.

“I see. Do you know what happened to all my stuff?” I asked.

“Your stuff?” the guard drew closer, and peered into the small room. “No? Please hurry, it took me awhile to find you,” he said, hurrying to lead the way.

I followed after him, but didn’t hurry as much as he. I was annoyed, and for some reason didn’t care if he or I got in trouble just because I was slow to respond.

Really… who would take my stuff? Nothing was valuable at all…

Where was I going to sleep then? On the ground? Directly on the sand? Did they want their supposed Bride of Derri covered in sand mite bites during the wedding?

Foolish.

My anger fumed and shifted like the hot sands, all the way until I entered the old distributor’s office.

The old sunblind man was sitting down in a large chair, one that was quite obviously from the Front-Line.

Its bright green color was not something found here in the City of Sand.

“Leave us,” Jorma said, waving away the guard who had escorted me.

As the young man hurried out of the room, shutting the door in the process, I took in the sight of all the treasures scattered about.

Usually this room was full of desks and crates… mostly paper work.

Now it was littered with magical catalyst crystals, jars of seeds, and had several pieces of furniture stacked in a corner…

And none of it looked like stuff he was going to distribute to the rest of the House.

This was all his personal plunder. He, alongside the rest of the Elders must have already picked through and looted what they thought to be the most valuable items.

“Sit, Telleya,” Jorma said, and I noticed it wasn’t really an order.

Maybe they’d be kinder to me, since I was one of the pawns that aided in this scheme.

Sitting down in one of the chairs across from him, I made sure to pick one of our own and not one from the Front-Line.

Jorma noticed my choice, but said nothing. “Tell me, what is the Front-Line like inside? Beyond the simple rooms and hallways we’ve been allowed to see, at least,” he asked.

I noted how quickly he went to his demands. Usually he’d at least ask if I were hungry, or thirsty first.

Was he becoming complacent with his newfound wealth and power already? Or maybe he was getting antsy… or worried.

“It’s all rather plain, to be honest. There are a few rooms that are… fancier. But most are just as plain as the rooms you’ve probably seen. I think it’s more for function than anything else,” I said honestly.

Although there were indeed beautiful rooms and very neat items to be found within it… the general structure was rather plain. Such a thing wasn’t a lie.

“Were you able to see the storerooms within? How much more do they possess? How many crates of seeds and magic?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I saw some of the rooms where our goods, and other Houses goods, were stored… but none of theirs,” I said.

I didn’t care to mention that the room where ours were stored barely took up half of it. And other Houses had been filled to the brim.

“How about their numbers? How many people are on board the Front-Line?”

“Thousands, I think. Six thousand? I think Noth mentioned in passing,” I said. I only remembered such a thing because of how amazing such a number were.

“That’s all?” Jorma asked, startled.

I said nothing as I nodded. After all, I couldn’t believe his shock. He was surprised it was so few? I mean, yes that was only a smaller household… but to have that many on a Line of all things…

Traveling such long distances…

For a long moment Jorma was silent… his sun blinded eye remained on me, but his good one closed in deep thought.

“When the Sand Worm had come, many of us thought the Line would leave. Too bad they didn’t…” Jorma mumbled as he sat back and relaxed.

If they had left, I’d have been taken with them…

Such a scary thought. Especially when I thought of what they’d do once they figured out what I had done.

Or at least, had tried to do.

I wanted to groan, but kept myself silent as I squirmed in my chair. Jorma was still lost in thought, so I didn’t worry over being seen. Even if he did, he’d just think I was unsure of myself and what to say or do.

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While I contained my own emotions, I noticed the lack of feeling under my feet.

Looking down, I was surprised that I hadn’t been imagining it.

There was no sand.

They had yet to remove, or replace, the rug that had always been in here… but now it seemed clean.

How they had done so, was unknown to me. Maybe magic, but there indeed didn’t seem to be any sand to be found.

I still wore the shoes given to me by the kind people of the Front-Line, but I knew even if I removed them and walked barefoot as normal it wouldn’t matter. At the very least, there was no sand in this room.

“It’s an old magic. One that used to be commonplace when I was younger, far before you were born. In a few days all buildings of the House of Derri will be covered by the catalyst, and we shall no longer find grains of sand within our homes,” Jorma spoke up, his voice filled with pride and joy.

“I… I had not known such a thing was possible,” I said honestly.

Is this why, and how, the Front-Line didn’t seem to have any sand within it either? I had thought maybe it was simply because it hasn’t been here long enough.

“Indeed. Much is possible with magic… much indeed…” he went silent again, staring at me.

Something told me most of the magic he was thinking of, weren’t ones of utility like the one that kept out the sand.

“And this is accomplished thanks to your assistance Telleya,” Jorma then said.

I nodded, but knew better than to take his statement to heart. It was a hollow compliment.

“Don’t look so stiff. We’ll reward you well. We’ll have to, after all… if we want the city to believe this farce. If you returned to being such a lowly healer after being married to a Line Owner, then everyone would instantly see through it,” Jorma spoke, but all I could hear was his complaining. He was annoyed that they’d have to reward me.

“All for the House of Derri,” I said plainly.

“Hm,” he nodded, agreeing.

Jorma’s white eye moved a little, finally looking away from me. I wondered if he could see anything at all from it. Or if it was just darkness.

“A low Derri girl, married to a Line Owner as powerful as him… Legends will exist because of it… it makes me wonder just how many other legends we possess, that were just like this. Purely fabricated schemes,” he wondered.

I kept my eyes on him, but my vision blurred. Legends?

About me?

I hadn’t even thought of it… but it was true.

A poor girl, from a falling household… Marrying a great and powerful monarch from afar, bringing back wealth and prosperity to her house.

Disgusted, I had to dig my nails into my palms as to stop myself from throwing up.

Was I going to be forced… to live the rest of my life, pretending? To grow old and die as the great Bride of Derri?

Would I be able to last that long? Would I be able to endure such a…

“Tell me, daughter of Derri… How close can you get to Noth?” Jorma then asked.

“Close, sir?”

“Proximity.”

I shrugged, still fighting off the stinging bile feeling in my throat and stomach. “Close enough…? We’ve not touched, but I can go within such a distance on occasion. He plays along as well as he’s willing, on occasion,” I said softly.

Jorma’s sunblind eye studied me, a little too intently.

“You’ve never killed before, have you,” he said.

“I’m a healer sir,” I quickly responded, and the cold understanding washed through me. It sent a shiver down my spine, and was enough to freeze the feeling of sickness that I had moments ago.

“Do you know how one takes ownership of a Line?” he whispered.

This time I couldn’t respond… not because of the implicating words… but the scary fact that I did indeed know how.

My ancestor had told me, in his ramblings.

“You do? How intriguing. Well…”

Jorma stood, but I remained seated and waited. I already knew where this was going… and I loathed every moment of it.

How greedy the House of Derri were.

How foolish.

But…

Maybe this…

“What do you want me to do?” I asked, and hated how excited I sounded.

Jorma’s dark and burnt face cracked as he smiled. He had interpreted my excitement as my willingness to help the House of Derri.

Good.

Standing from his chair, Jorma walked with a brisk pace… as if he too was now excited. Heading over to his desk, he rounded it and reached down beneath behind it.

He didn’t have to rummage for long, as he brought forth something wrapped in dusty wrappings.

Although what was happening was beyond belief, and something I knew would undoubtedly end with costing me my life… I couldn’t help it. I was intrigued.

Standing from my seat, I drew closer as Jorma untied and revealed the item on his desk. He did so with careful but shaking hands.

I hesitated as the sight of sand came into view… pouring forth from beneath the wrappings, as if all that had been within it was sand.

And kept pouring.

While the sand kept pouring out, I wondered if Jorma had actually wrapped a bunch of sand in cloth. But he quickly undid the rest of the wrappings, and then brushed some of the sand away.

Within the sand, covered mostly, was a large looking root.

“A root?”

“A Sandroot,” Jorma corrected.

Stepping closer, I watched as more sand seemed to appear… causing most of the sand already piled to tumble down and cover the rest of the desk.

“Is it making the sand?” I asked, as more and more sand appeared.

It was a strange sight… and I almost couldn’t believe it. Where was it all coming from?

“Yes and no… it turns anything it touches to sand,” Jorma said.

I paused at that, as he reached over and grabbed a nearby book. Its worn look made it clear it was probably an old ledger, from long ago.

Studying the thing intently, I watched as he touched one of the book’s edges to the root, and with cold fascination I observed the edge of the book rapidly decayed and break apart.

It wasn’t an instant process, but it indeed happened… and I nearly couldn’t believe it as the book slowly turned into sand, scattering down onto the desk.

Jorma dropped the book on the desk, and I watched as half of it quickly succumbed to the sandroot’s power. Once about half of it was gone, the effects seemed to slow.

“I assume it will do this to the flesh as well,” I said softly.

“Far quicker, in fact. The dryer the surface, the slower or weaker the process. Thus the desk not being affected,” Jorma explained.

“It didn’t do anything to those rags,” I said, glancing to the pile of dirty cloth it had been wrapped in.

“They’re made of special material. Don’t ask me what, I don’t know. It’s an old weapon of our House… very old.”

For a long moment I stared in silence at the book which was almost completely gone. In its place wasn’t as much sand as I had thought a whole book was capable of making, but maybe it was just because it was spread out all over the desk.

“If you can get him to touch it… even a fingertip, then the Line is ours,” Jorma whispered, almost so low I had not heard him.

Ours…

Looking up at him, I wondered if he truly comprehended what he was asking me to do.

But no…

It didn’t matter.

Looking down to the root, I imagined myself doing the deed.

Giving it to Noth.

His body decaying into sand.

Gaining ownership of the Line.

Then dying, as the Elders do the same to me.

Since after all, there was no way they’d let me keep it.

“It might not be possible. He always has… a lot of people around him,” I said.

“You’ll have to do it in private. It will take a few moments for him to properly perish, and for your ownership to be secured. Once it is, there’s nothing anyone can do,” he said, rounding the desk and coming up to me.

I stayed silent as he came close, reaching out with his rough hands and grabbing me by the shoulders. “We’ll give you the prime opportunity. During the day of the wedding… once the vows are made… once the deed is done… You’ll get to be alone with him, in the sanctum of our House. Long enough, and secure enough, that no matter how much he yells, no one will hear. You can do it then,” He explained.

Looking to the root, I knew that meant they would indeed properly prepare it. They’d place the root in a secure location… and would get me alone with him. They’d do it under the pretense of tradition and culture.

“You can do it. For the House of Derri,” he whispered.

What bothered me wasn’t that I had to nod, and agree.

But how easily I did so.