Two Masters (epic progression fantasy)

Chapter 8: The Grand Synagogue

Omrai knew from the coming aura of frustration that Shifra, his eldest daughter, was about to knock on his door. He had just placed his journal and a coinpurse into his saddlebag. He shoved them in deeper, breathing deeply through his nose. He didn't have time for another argument.

But what excuse could he make to avoid his daughter, just as he was about to leave on a military campaign?

"Come in," he said to the door.

The massive oaken door swung slowly on well-oiled hinges. His eldest daughter stood in the doorway. She wore trousers with stripes of blue, green and white, the colors of their tribe. Her shirt was of the modern fashion, flaring at the sleeves and the waist. Her long hair was pulled out of her face in a tight tail. Before she spoke, he could see it in her eyes. The drive, but also the worry and exasperation. Her hands were behind her back, undoubtedly held in tight fists, from the tenseness in her arms.

"I wanted to talk to you about something... before you left."

Omrai took a steadying breath, bracing for the argument that would come. "I don't have a lot of time." He turned back to his packing, hoping she would relent.

She did not.

"I wanted to discuss with you my current... educational situation."

He could tell that, despite all the frustration she felt, she was trying to be calm. He took a break from his pack and turned again to her. "If you're asking if you can drop your arms course, then you're going to be disappointed."

"I've made enough progress," Shifra said, "I'm not going to be a warrior."

"Even if you seek a political career, I will not have you untrained as to be defenseless. An Abaddon knows how to fight."

"Yishai's not a warrior," Shifra said, "he's a politician. Neither is grandmother."

"Your grandmother married into the Abaddon family, and High Judge Abaddon knew how to fight. He doesn't any longer due to his injuries. Besides, you're getting enough political education."

"There's another teacher I want to learn from," Shifra said, her tone growing sharper.

Omrai cast his daughter a critical glance. "Who?"

Shifra took a deep breath. "Senator Thersha."

Omrai frowned. "He leads those new reformers, doesn't he?"

Shifra went quiet. Her brow tightening into a deep scowl and frown. "You and Yishai were reformers, why can't I be?"

"Because what we have now works," Omrai said. He shook his head at her. "I don't have time for this right now. I'm leaving. Didn't your mother tell you?"

Shifra nodded. "That's why I'm here. I don't want to wait until you get back."

"We are under attack Shifra,"

"We're always under attack."

Omrai grabbed the corner-post of his bed with a loud snap. Shifra jumped. His knuckles whitened and the wood creaked. "Would you have me roll over as our enemies invade?"

"Have you ever tried talking or is it always straight to the musket?"

His grip tightened further, his scarred and calloused hand compressing the wood. These new reformers were influencing Shifra in all the wrong ways. She would never have spoken to him this way before. Why did they always have to fight? "You are little more than a child."

"I wouldn't call twenty-three a child," Shifra said, her hesitation fully evaporated now.

"And yet still you understand so little!" Omrai's voice grew louder, and he stood taller. "Do you think that I enjoy killing?