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From the Immense granary of the sky.
Old eagle with the strength of eaglet,
you rest in the sky like a flock of swallows.
Have mercy on us.
He fell into silence as did the rest of the group, eyes closed, heads down, arms out, sensing the íkan-infused air around them crackle with energy.
Just as Sana’a’s mind was about to fall into a white crevasse of meditative sopor, Kultur murmured, ‘You may rise now.’
They did, feeling the power of íkan course through them.
‘I’ll take you to your rooms now and show you where to eat.’
Kultur led the quartet through hallways adorned with tapestries depicting scenes of Katáne’s past Kings and their feats in sky battles that spanned eons.
They finally arrived at a set of large double doors, where he turned to them with a cool glance.
‘These are your rooms,’ he said, easing through the entryway to reveal a corridor.
It opened towards a series of chambers filled with twin beds, simple furniture, and generous windows that offered a view of the heavens beyond.
‘There is one room each, and you can pick whichever you like. There’s plenty of room in the kíota.’
They individually found their chambers, throwing their packs and gear inside before Kultur took off again, and they strode after him.
Into a dining hall and kitchen, which, although empty, was clean and tidy, furnished with long tables and sculpted chairs.
‘We have no resident cooks or chefs, so you’ll need to help yourselves to the produce in the cold room and whip up a meal on your own.’
Kultur turned to leave. ‘When you’re done, return to the íkhara and set it up how you want. I’ll be in my chamber. Call out if you require anything further.’
Killen nodded to the older man. ‘Sante.’
‘We’ll be ready to start as soon as possible,’ Sana’a added.
Kultur shrugged and stalked away.
Sana’a tracked his departure with a creased brow. ‘Is it just me, or does he seem annoyed at our presence here? I get the feeling he thinks I’m an outsider and should not have been allowed in the kíota.
Killen’s hawkstone flashed, and Sana’a caught onto it. ‘You feel it too, as does your lodestone.’
‘He’s an old cantankerous man,’ Killen drawled. ‘Ignore him.’
‘You can discount him,’ Sana’a murmured back. ‘I won’t. I never disregard my SHärd senses, and they freak out right every time he glances my way. Something tells me he’s not what he says he is.’
‘Only time will tell.’
Sana’a gave a mock roll of her eyes. ‘Can’t wait til I say I told you so.’
Killen raised a brow. ‘I’m sure you can’t. As long as when in the íkhara, you’ll have my back.’
‘If you have mine.’
‘Always.’
Fire and embers ignited the tension between them; they held their burning gaze until Killen sliced his silver eyes away, breaking their flaming connection. ‘I’m starving,’ he rasped. ‘I’ll whip us all something to eat. Tis the least I can do.’
