A hot wind rising from the east, little more than a breeze, brought no relief from the baking of the sun, beating down from a cloudless sky, scorching the already harsh wasteland of the desert. It had only just risen, but its beams were in no way cooler or calmer. Still, it would grow hotter.
Waves of heat danced on the horizon, backed by nothing but blue sky. The breeze carried with it grains of sand, stinging the skin, what little skin that showed. The people of the desert, the Haradrim, had long learned to cover their bodies, and most things, fully, to give reprieve from the sun and sand. And to easily conceal what they wished.
The hot wind ruffled the brown robes and loose skirt around Sevora as she gazed from atop a small ridge. Less than a mile away, ripples of heat danced above a clump of small buildings, most little more than huts, some much like tents. The only building with an actual thatch roof was the lone inn, which only contained three rooms.
Sevora turned to Dristi and Naramarth, also scanning the village below. Her dark brown veil hid a smile, but left her eyes visible, which burned with a cold light of anticipation and the desire of something just beyond. "I believe this will be a worthy place to supply us. The dark Lord grows weary of waiting for blood. We will shed some here…"
Abruptly she turned to Sammael and Ghurdan, who she had summoned. "Get the men moving. We will move into town with our entire…forces. I have a little business to take care of which I believe all should be present for." She paused to give a little trill of laughter. "And I see little reason to move today. We will take rest and supplies. Tonight, you will camp just outside the city…a yard or so from the last house should do nicely… Those of the Order will stay in the inn, for there are three rooms…correct?" Without waiting for a reply she continued. "Now, get the men ready. Notify me when we can move." Her eyes moved to each of them as she spoke those words, reminding them that they both were in charge.
They each gave Sevora a small bow, but neither pair of eyes left her for a moment. She watched them turn and leave, and was disappointed to find that they did not flinch or seem uncomfortable at all with her gaze at their backs. But, still, she was also a bit pleased. Sammael and Ghurdan had many traits that a member of the Order needed.
Without removing her eyes from the backs of the two men, Sevora spoke again. "Priestess Dristi," she said, playing at a singsong voice. "I hope you can join me in my quarters this evening for a bit of…amusement." She let out a long trilling laugh, sounding quite fake, before turning to Rahvin, who was by her side, as at most times. "We will leave a mark," she whispered. Smiling to herself, Sevora went over to where Sammael and Ghurdan were assembling the men, Rahvin behind her, almost smiling.
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