Lady of the Star Wind by Veronica Scott Page B

understand, unless he and Tia are eloping and planning to live there?”
    Mark batted a large, slow-flying insect away from his face and stretched his arm to pick some fruit for his breakfast. “The tale takes an unusual twist. Rothan’s after some artifacts, a crown and a scepter belonging to their ancestors. He says—no, he swears—the scepter has the power of life and death, can cure all ills, including poisoning, and whoever wears the crown is automatically the ruler. Apparently, the crown possesses its own magic, whereby it recognizes the true ruler, and the people will follow where the crown rests.”
    “Convenient.” Tilting her head, Sandy said, “You sound like you believe the mad tale?”
    Offering her the second red fruit he’d picked, he said, “I’ve seen stranger things on some of the worlds I’ve been to.” He shrugged. “I mean, was what Lajollae did to send us here magic? Or ancient technology we don’t comprehend?”
    “Fair point.” Biting into the juicy offering, she abandoned the flat rock and strolled along the edge of the water.  
    Mark followed her, slinging another stone into the lake and watching it skip five times before sinking from view. “I’m intrigued by the fact whoever lived in this oasis has a place in the legends of Rothan’s people.” He sat on the grassy bank to eat his own “apple” as she kilted her dress and waded into the water up to her knees. “There’s another angle too,” he said. “This Queen Farahna is from someplace else, the nation of Maiskhan. She’s bringing in soldiers and priests from her home by the boatload, and Rothan suspects she’s planning to convert his birthplace into a Maiskhan satellite.”
    “And we should care…why?”
    Her confrontational tone rubbed him the wrong way. The Sandy he knew, or thought he’d known, wouldn’t have been so dismissive of other people’s problems. “The Maiskhan sound like a nightmare bunch. They believe in human sacrifice, and commit atrocities.” Mark rose to steady her as she stepped from the lake so she wouldn’t slip on the slick grass.
    “According to Rothan.” Sandy dropped his hand. “Not saying I don’t believe him, but we both know the techniques of deploying negative propaganda to rally the populace. My grandmother’s lackeys are accomplished liars.”
    “My assessment so far is he’s a straightforward, no-bullshit guy. An honest man trying to save his best friend’s life and throne. Wants to do right by his people.” Her skepticism bothered him, but he had to admit neither of them had firsthand knowledge of the facts on this world. Rothan impressed him, had the kind of military background he could relate to, was comfortable with.  
    Unsmiling, Sandy faced him, her gaze direct. “So this decision you want me to make boils down to going with them or staying here, right?”
    “Yes.”
    She stared across the lake, watching a flight of graceful white birds take wing into the sky, soaring easily beyond the barrier. “And you vote to go?”
    “I do.”
    Pivoting on her heel to confront him, she said, “Why? Persuade me, bogatyr Denaltieri, remembering you’re sworn to place my well-being uppermost.”
    Surprised and irritated by her reversion to haughty royalty, as well as her reference to his blood oath of allegiance, given decades before, Mark stayed silent for a moment, marshaling his thoughts. His readiness to sign on to the cause of people he’d just met was out of character for him, he realized under her prodding. “It’s beautiful here, but we can’t live the rest of our lives cooped up in this pocket-size oasis of greenery on the side of a mountain. Maybe it worked for the real Travelers, maybe they dropped in and spent their vacations here and then Traveled home to their real lives, or on to somewhere else. I don’t know. But we—well, I think we’re here on this planet forever. These seem like good, honest people and, furthermore, have horses, food, and water,