“It rose out of the plains of Homana like an eagle on an aerie, walled about with rose-red stone and portcullised barbican gates. Homana-Mujhar was much the same: walled and gated and pink. The palace stood within the city on a hill. Not high, but higher than any other. Lachlan and I rode through the main gate into Mujhara, and at once I knew I was home. Save I was not. My home was filled with Solindish soldiers, hung about with ringmail and boiled leather and glinting silver swords. They let us... in because they knew no better, thinking Homana’s rightful lord would never ride so willingly into his prison. I heard the Solindish tongue spoken in the streets of Mujhara more than I heard Homanan. Lachlan and I spoke Ellasian merely to be safe. But I thought I could say anything and be unacknowledged; Bellam’s soldiers were bored. After five years and no threat from without, they lived lazily within. The magnificence was gone. I thought perhaps it was my own lack of discernment, having spent so long in foreign lands, but it was not.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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