"Master, should we have listened to the golden Khar instead?"
"Dear Escha, that decision was Lord Garak's alone. Now, come my love and let us be comfortable with each other instead."
Escha followed Trai away from the cook fire. He loved his master, but sometimes Trai didn't think things through. The scars on his body were proof of times when he'd used his gift without proper precaution, and in the years passing Escha had convinced Trai to be a little bit more careful. That only worked to a degree. An act that didn't present direct danger was still nothing Trai could be bothered to think through in advance. Probably the main reason Trai would never rise very high among Khars despite his awesome powers with fire.
Tomorrow they would start searching for Arthur again. Always for Arthur. Taleweaver or not, Escha didn't like the implications. It was as if the Khraga and the girl didn't count. He didn't understand that. They were fellow members of the caravan as well, and yet the executions earlier had proved how the people here cared less for free men than masters cared for their slaves in Khanati.
It was a strange land this. Cold and desolate without any of the beauty he was used to. He was certain it was a reason the people living here wore barren hearts as well.
Escha frowned. They needed strong Fire Khars here to warm their miserable lives, just like Trai was a fiery, lovely light in his, but Escha could never remember his life being miserable, even before he met Trai. It was good to have a master caring for your needs though, and Trai, for all his sweet shortcomings, was a very good master.
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One man to change a life Two to change a world An outworlder comes to Otherworld where words come true where he comes true The Taleweaver Author note: I apologize for the horrid chapter disposition. I got my act together after publishing this novel...