Pronunciation: Tar-coon Veth-nah
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Brown
Motto: If it’s not easy, don’t do it
Desires: To become king of Thesl
Weapon of Choice: Sword
Description: I stomped downhill with a brimming basket. As I neared the city’s north gate, father’s heir, Tarchun, and a half-dozen of his cousins from Velathri rode out, trailed by hounds and a retinue of slaves carrying gear for a hunt. Narrow-faced as his mother, Tarchun had her clay-colored hair and bitter smile; ebony eyes, his only likeness to our father. He passed close enough for me to catch the amber-musk scent of bath oil on his skin and feel the whip of his horse’s tail, but we didn’t greet one another.
Discussion Questions For Tarchun?
- Why does he treat his horse so roughly?
- Do you have a favorite scene?
- What’s your favorite quote?
- What should happen to Tarchun at stories end?
- Did Tarchun deserve the beating he got?
Tarchun was underwater when I stepped inside the bathhouse. He surfaced with a splash and a shake of his head that splattered the tile in front of me. His eyes widened, surprise shifting to recognition. Holding his sword, I was tucking the remainder of his possessions into my bag with my own few goods. I’d have simply run out and left him, but he shot from the water and charged, naked and dripping and shouting. His face flamed. I smashed the sword’s hilt against the side of his head when he lunged. He staggered and collapsed, silent and still and pouring out his blood on the tiles bearing our ancestors’ names.GATES THE HOURS KEEP