At the Edge of Space (Hanan Rebellion)
“It held the city the next morning, the faint sound of warning bells drifting up from the harbor. Kurt opened his eyes on the grayness outside the window, then looked toward the foot of the bed where Mim sat combing her long hair, black and silken and falling to her waist when unbound. She looked back at him and smiled, her alien and wonderfully lovely eyes soft with warmth.
“Good morning, my lord.”
“Good morning,” he murmured.
“The mist is still with us,” she said. “Hear the harbor bells?”
“How... long can this last?”
“Sometimes many days when the seasons are turning,—especially in the spring.” She flicked several strands of hair apart and began with quick fingers to plait them into a thin braid. Then she would sweep most of her hair up to the crown of her head, fasten it with pins and combs, an intricate and fascinating ritual daily performed and nightly undone. He liked watching her. In a matter of moments she began the next braid.
“We say,” Mim commented, “that the mist is a cloak of the imiine, the sky-sprite Nue, when she comes to visit earth and walk among men.MoreLess
“Good morning, my lord.”
“Good morning,” he murmured.
“The mist is still with us,” she said. “Hear the harbor bells?”
“How... long can this last?”
“Sometimes many days when the seasons are turning,—especially in the spring.” She flicked several strands of hair apart and began with quick fingers to plait them into a thin braid. Then she would sweep most of her hair up to the crown of her head, fasten it with pins and combs, an intricate and fascinating ritual daily performed and nightly undone. He liked watching her. In a matter of moments she began the next braid.
“We say,” Mim commented, “that the mist is a cloak of the imiine, the sky-sprite Nue, when she comes to visit earth and walk among men.MoreLess
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