Excerpt: Katriel

Small Excerpt of a story that popped up randomly from the name Katriel.


TOWER OF ISHAM

Katriel sat in the large glassless window looking in. Looking through the fine fabrics of woven colored silk thread created to make vibrant tapestries that catch the light and scatter it along the siena stone floors. Gently she matched her breath to the scalding hot breeze that lifted the silks and brought to her nose the right scent of laceflower, a common incense in this area, burning from within. It was weak and did not carry with it the warmth of fire as that of a freshly burned rod. The room was empty and had been empty for a time now. The hour was high noon, and usually when one took a late day meal or slept to escape the heat of the summer sun.

The room held no bed so none slept within. Instead a colorful prayer mat that centered between four windows, one she sat in, and candles unlit littered along the wall and the mat in a mandala circle. A prayer room. The incense burning from an unseen source. This was not the room she was hoping to find. A bedroom preferred, an apothecary storage more ideal. Mentally swearing in her head, she did not change her breathing at the ire she felt. The walls had ears and in the Tower of Isham there were many many listening ears.

She waited. Listened without movement, breathing in slowly and out with the winds. Thankful for the gentleness of the wind, though she ire’d at it too. A harsher wind would make her task easier to go unheard, but the harshness of the wind could easily carry her out of her perch and into the pointed mountains below. With carefully trained patience, she slipped silk slippers from her sling and carefully pulled them over her bare but dusty feet. To go unnoticed was not to just move with silence but to leave no trace. The silk would keep the dust and prints from leading a trail to her hiding place.

Breathing in the scent of the room and the arid heat of the winds behind her, Katriel set a foot inside the window and lowered herself carefully to the floor. Mindful of the white linen curtain and the candles that also sat on the base. Step by small, patient step she moved into the room towards the single door that would then open to a corridor. Anything that would lead her out of the room towards her goal. But as she crouched by the window the room shifted from the view in the window. This was no simple prayer room. The angle of her new view she could see the carefully laid sand set in a mandala-like design that was then crowned by the candles. A subtle difference she had not seen before. Looking at her feet she could see the smudge her step had made into the sand. Katriel lost control of her breathing, knowing that one simple overlook had then stolen her months of preparation by a single step. Smudged sand laid upon the floor now ruined. The drapes themselves never truly touching the floor. How had she not seen this?


There is still more, but I felt I should share at least a little of what I have written lately. It’s small, but it is still writing.