The Draethan

The Veykar's sworn Brethren — his voice, his ears, his breath, his blood made flesh. The Draethan bore no names among the slaves of The Wheel. Their robes were cut from conquered horses, dyed with ash and pitch. Their oaths were tattooed in unbroken lines from wrist to throat to jaw. A single Draethan walking into a room could end a conversation; ten Draethan could end a town. They served as patrons for the silent kitchen-girl who would become The Girl With the Scar, recognising in her the talent that would eventually carry the Veykar's favour and, in time, his death. The Draethan died with him, or scattered into clans that no longer admit to having been Draethan. On the Deyune Steppe, the word is still occasionally spat — and still occasionally feared.