(43 years ago)
Rain pattered against Ilia’s office window, a steady drizzle that streaked over the glass. Through the blur, she saw the skyline of Arinas. Towering skyscrapers reached for the clouds, never quite touching them. The reconstruction had been completed a few months ago. You would never know the Antaurans had attacked this city only a year earlier.
Seated in a comfy chair with her feet propped up on a shelf that she had positioned under the window, Ilia Morane balanced a container of abron in her lap. She stirred the rice with her fork, exposing several pieces of chicken underneath.
abronShe was a woman of average height, slightly plump, with a copper complexion. People told her that her round face had a matronly quality, and the black hair that she kept in a bun certainly ad
