The Will of the Empress - By Tamora Pierce Page 0,1

mid-fifties, dressed in blue summer cotton of her weaving and stitching. While his clothes were plain and his jewellery simple, there was no denying his aura of power and authority. No one would ever mistake him for a commoner. Neither would they mistake his obvious affection for the great-niece born of his wayward nephew and a wealthy young noblewoman from Namorn.

Sandry blushed. She hated for him to see her at any less than her best. "Uncle, he's so prosy," she explained, hearing the dreaded sound of a whine creep into her voice. "He goes on and on about bushels of rye per acre and gross lots of candles until I want to scream. Doesn't he understand I don't care?"

Vedris raised his brows. "But you care about the accounts for Duke's Citadel, which are just as thick with minutiae," he pointed out.

"Only so you won't," she retorted. When Vedris smiled, she had to fight a smile of her own. "You know what I mean, Uncle! If I don't stop you from worrying over every little detail, you might fret yourself into a second heart attack. At the rate Ambros goes on, I'm the one who will have a heart attack."

"Ah," said the duke. "So you need an altruistic reason to take an interest, rather than the selfish one that this is your own inheritance from your mother, and your own estates." Sandry opened her mouth to protest, then closed it. Something about that sounds like he just turned it head over heels on me, she thought. I just can't put my finger on what.

"Very well, then," Vedris continued. "I submit that by looking so conscientiously after your affairs and his own — I know he has properties in his own right — it is quite possible your cousin Ambros courts a heart attack." He straightened. "Just because your Namornese inheritance is in land, and in Namorn, is no reason for you to treat it lightly, my dear." He walked off down the hall.

Sandry put her hands up to cool her cheeks, which were hot with embarrassment. I've never got a scolding from him before, she thought with dismay. I don't care for it at all!

She glared at the ribbons on the package of documents. They struggled, then ripped free of the wax seal and flew apart. With a sigh, Sandry grasped the edges of the folded wrapping and began to remove it.

*

The 18th day of Blood Moon

The year 1041 K.F.

The Anderran/Emelan border

After several side trips following their original journey to Kugisko in Namorn, Dedicate Initiate Frostpine of Winding Circle temple and his student Daja Kisubo finally crossed back into Emelan. Although it was late in the year, the weather still held fine. The skies were a brilliant blue without a single cloud, the breeze crisp without being cold. Daja sighed happily.

"Another week and we'll be home," she commented, turning her broad, dark face up to the sun. She was a big young woman with glossy brown skin, a wide mouth, and large, perceptive brown eyes. She wore her wiry black hair in masses of long, thin braids wrapped, coiled, and pinned at the back of her head, an elegant style that drew attention to the muscled column of her neck. Her travelling garments were light brown wool with orange patterns, sewn into a tunic and leggings in the style of her native people, the Traders. "I'll be close enough to mind-speak with Sandry any day — well, I could now, but I'd have to strain to do it, and I'd rather wait. She'll have a million questions, I know."

Frostpine grinned. He was brown like Daja, but where her build was solid, his was wiry, his muscles cables that lined his long body. He wore his hair wild around a perfectly bald crown and kept his beard in the same exuberant style. His Fire dedicates crimson robes were every bit as travel worn as hers. "You can't blame Sandry," he pointed out. "We were supposed to be home the summer before this."

"She'd have questions anyway," Daja said comfortably. Before Sandry had moved to Duke's Citadel, she had shared a house at Winding Circle with Daja and their other foster-brother and foster-sister, Briar and Tris. "She always has questions. Well, she's going to have to come to Discipline for answers. I won't spend forever mind-speaking, and once I get back in my own room, I'm not coming out for a week."

Frostpine reined his horse up. "Discipline?"

Daja halted her own mount and turned to