"You sound like my wife." Farhad chuckles. "She loves studying."
From the other side of the room, you hear Mahasti sigh, but she doesn't look up from her ledger.
Farhad winks at you. "Right then. Let's—" He pauses. "Where are my manners? I can't believe I brought you all the way down here without a proper tour of the house. Come on. We can return to the boring stuff in a bit. Mahasti, my love, light of my eyes and fire of my heart, would you mind watching the forge in my absence?"
She looks up from the desk in feigned exasperation, but there's no mistaking the smile tugging at her lips. "Fire of your heart?"
He shrugs. "It sounded better in my head."
"Off with you, then." She returns to her ledger, cheeks decidedly red, the smile inching toward her ears.
Farhad stands, and you follow him up the stairs. He's already going on about the history of the house.
"Back in the old days—the old, old days, you understand, when Seyj was still Sogand—this place used to be a caravanserai. A small one, obviously, though it saw a good deal of business…until it was swallowed by the ever-swelling city. But when it was outside the walls, folks would stop here on their way to Borj, or before crossing the Sea of Dust."
Next
YOU ARE READING
Huguel
FantasyIn a Persian steampunk empire, will you use your arcane alchemy to repair a spaceship, or pilot a mech? Ignite a revolution, snuff it out, or play both sides against each other?
