Lyn Gala - Desert World Rebirth

Copyright

Published by

Dreamspinner Press

382 NE 191st Street #88329

Miami, FL 33179-3899, USA

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Desert World Rebirth

Copyright 2012 by Lyn Gala

Cover Art by Justin James dare.empire@gmail.com

Cover Design by Mara McKennen

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 382 NE 191st Street #88329, Miami, FL 33179-3899, USA

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

ISBN: 978-1-61372-348-7

Printed in the United States of America

First Edition

January 2012

eBook edition available

eBook ISBN: 978-1-61372-349-4

This book is dedicated to everyone who has stood by me through difficult timesfrom the beta group who helped with both books to wonderfully supportive Facebook and LiveJournal communities, to my very supportive mother. E.L. Doctorow once said that writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia, so I definitely should thank all the people who put up with my brand of insanity and continue to love me despite it.

Chapter 1

SHAN heard the door chime and nearly jumped out of his skin. Three months living in the relay station set deep in the Livre desert, and he still wasnt used to some of the technology. Door chimes, for one. Another difference would be the sheer amount of space he lived in. In the church, he had privacy, time to search his own thoughts. However, there he was always aware of Div shuffling somewhere in the house or softly praying, his Latin drifting through the air. Livre houses were generally small, built to stand up against the desert wind. Here, silence reigned. The early settlers had built the station before the inner worlds had largely abandoned Livre to surviveor dieon its own.

Shan walked through the storage room to one of the five living spaces. Through the thick window, he could see a shadowed form moving in the bright Livre sunshine. Maybe hed been living alone too long, because his mind went to Ista and to all the men and women who had tried to kill him to the wealthy and beloved landowner Ben, who had shown his true colors when he raped Temar. Shan could forgive the murder attempt more easily than Bens willingness to rape. But considering that Ben and Ista and most of their co-conspirators were dead, fearing that theyd turn up here suggested that he had been alone a little too long.

Pushing aside irrational fears, Shan opened the door and smiled as he saw Temar standing in the light, his sand veil hanging around his neck.

Temar! Stepping forward, he caught Temar in a quick hug. I thought you were off working your glass this week. Temar often stopped by, running the long dunes to visit once or twice a week, but hed already warned Shan that he wouldnt be able to visit this week.

A flash of pain crossed Temars face, and he dropped his head down so that his shaggy blond hair hid his features.

Temar? Shan asked, his voice quieting.

Temar gave a shrug.

Do you want to come in? Shan took a step back to give Temar some room. He didnt want to push him, not after what Ben had done. So if Shans cock sometimes ached with need, and if he sometimes lay in bed stroking himself while thinking of Temar, Shan wouldnt physically crowd the man. Hed give Temar space to heal on his own.

With a small nod, Temar came into the station, passing through the room with the metal and plastic chairs and tables with the perfect lines and symmetrical bolts that Shan still found a little alien. When he and Temar had left the door open to pursue Ben, not even the wind and sand of the desert storm had left a mark on the sterile room. Shan was used to the curves of windwood, the uneven gaps formed by the twisted branches, and the way a truly great craftsman could make a piece curve with the human body. Every craftsman had his own style. Roget Ally from Landing created chairs and tables with small branches that intertwined so perfectly that the wood appeared to wrap around each other, as though in love. In comparison, these perfectly uniform chairs brought down by the drop ships that first brought settlers to Livre had no life.

Temar headed through the storage room, into the computer control room, and then through a door into the one living space Shan actually used. Heading for the couch, he dropped down and pulled his sand veil off, fingering the edges.

What happened? Shan asked, settling into a chair near enough that he could reach out to offer a comforting hand if needed.

For some time, Temar seemed to struggle with his emotions. Most times, Temar wasnt an emotional man. The shyness clung to him, muffled his emotions, but right now, Shan could see the pain etched deep into his features. Deeeta hates me, Temar finally confessed in a miserable voice.

Shan blew out a breath. He doubted that Deeeta Suns feelings were as simple as hate. Why do you say that? Shan asked.

Leaning back, Temar stared up at the perfectly flat metal ceiling. She can barely look at me. Three weeks into my apprenticeship, and my glass-master cant even look me in the eye when showing me how to use the paddles to shape the piece. Its the most uncomfortable place Ive ever been. Temar tilted his head and looked Shan right in the eye. Ever, he repeated. Given that Temar had once been trapped in Bens bed, a victim of both rape and a criminal justice system that had failed him, that was saying something.

Shan had been on the council that had sentenced Temar to a term of slavery after his vandalism had caused more damage than he could ever repay. Of course, hed been following his sisters attempts to play detective when it had happened. It hadnt been fair, but Cyla had gone to an owner who trained her to work and Temar had gone to Ben, who had raped him and blackmailed him into not reporting it to the council. At least Shan could hold onto the fact that he had argued against slavery. Vehemently argued. Deeeta didnt have that luxury. She had to look at Temar and know that shed played her part in sending him into that hell. This cant be easy for either of you, Shan said, not entirely sure how to broach the subject of Deeetas guilt when it had been Temar who had suffered the most.

No, not really, Temar said, his voice defeated. I spent my entire childhood dreaming of an apprenticeship with her, and now that I have my dream, its not. Temar sighed. Its not any good, Shan.

Is that why you left?

I screwed up. I cooled the punty too much, and when Deeeta tried to transfer the glass, it slipped off and broke.

That happens with apprentices, Shan reassured him. When I apprenticed for Div, the very first sermon I gave I mixed up John and Paul and said something very stupid about the Book of Matthew. Luckily, I was so scared that I was preaching in a monotone that had put everyone to sleep by then.