Desert Rising (4 page)

Her face must have shown some of her frustration because the Templar leaned forward.

“Will she be a problem, then? Will we take care of her like the last problem that came from the desert?” he asked intently, fingering the sword by his side.

The Crone snorted and stood, turning her back on him and pacing a ­couple of steps away. He hadn't even been around when that particular flower had come out of the desert. The Crone was the one who'd had to cover over that blunder, who'd had to put out a false trail, leading suspicions away from the Temple after the Templar's predecessor made a mess out of the situation. And here was this Templar, anxious to blunder and chop his way into another disaster.

“She does not look like Iamar,” she told him, turning to face him. “She could be a flower for our Temple, a rose that gives us the scent of the Southern desert.”

“Or she could be the thorn that festers and poisons the Temple, like the last one,” the Templar stated bluntly. “How would you know until it is too late?”

“She is protected; Iamar was not.”

That startled him. “The One?”

The Crone nodded. “The One has shown a greater interest in this pledge than the other. According to Counselor Elida, the
feli
flocked around her as she was taken, indicating the One's special favor.”

He narrowed his eyes, as though thinking. She couldn't help but notice that thinking took much effort for him. He stood and bowed to her.

“The One's meddling can be circumvented. Voras will know what to do, and I will confer with him,” he said.

“Ivanha is interested in this girl, Templar,” the Crone warned. “You tell Voras she wants no interference unless she asks.”

He smiled smugly. “I'll let him know,” he said, and walked out, leaving the door open behind him.

The Crone snarled a curse on all blockheaded military men who acted before they thought. She would have the Templar watched very closely. If he moved against this girl, she would ensure he met the same fate as his predecessor had, and Voras would once again be looking for a new mouthpiece.

 

Chapter 4

K
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the dust off his face and arms in a large basin filled with water in his new room above the kitchen when he heard a loud rumble of shouting downstairs. He didn't bother to grab his tunic as he sprinted out of his room, certain this must be about Sulis.

“How could you let a daughter of the desert do such a stupid thing?” Kadar heard a young man shout as he ran down the stairs. The speaker had his back to Kadar, facing his two uncles and his aunt, Raella, who had a shawl wrapped around her long night robe. Uncle Tarik's face was expressionless, but Uncle Aaron's face was pinched, as though he'd just learned of a death in the family. Uncle Aaron's pain made Kadar speak up.

“What makes you think we could stop her?” he asked quietly.

The young man turned to face Kadar. He noticed the man's Frubian good looks though they were folded into a deep scowl right now. He smiled, wondering how his sister had managed to leave the poor man smitten in such a short time.

The other man hesitated a moment, then smiled in return. “You are Kadar,” he announced. “You look like her. I am Ashraf. You are right. Even I could not talk her out of it.”

Kadar managed not to roll his eyes at that. This Ashraf was more than a match for Sulis in arrogance, thinking he could convince Sulis when her family could not.

Uncle Tarik cleared his throat. “Ashraf has told us he saw Sulis go into the Temple of the One and come out with a
feli
at her side.”

“Is this true?” Kadar asked Ashraf, who nodded. “How did she look? Was she happy?”

Ashraf paused a moment, frowning. “She looked defiant,” he admitted. “I was harsh with her, calling her a fool. It might have been the wrong thing to say.”

Uncle Aaron snorted. “There was no right thing to say, boy,” he told Ashraf. “She is as stubborn as the
feli
she paired with. The Temple has stolen another of my kin.”

Kadar was moved by his uncle's pain. He brushed past Ashraf and gripped Uncle Aaron's arm at the elbow.

“She'll come out all right, Uncle,” he assured him. “You know Sulis: give her a bucket of sand, and she'll create a castle. The Temple is no match for her when she is determined.”

Uncle Aaron returned the grip but shook his head.

“I knew your mother,” he said. “I would have thought her a match for anything. If this is anything like what her mother went through, Sulis is going against deities. Only the One is a match for them.”

“I have friends among the Forsaken. There is a rumor,” Ashraf said into the silence, “that when Sulis was paired, all the
feli
of the acolytes of the One came rushing to their partners. It is said that she is marked as a favorite of his.” Though the One was neither male nor female, Ashraf used the tradition of describing the One in his own gender.

“Which will make her a target for those who oppose him,” Uncle Aaron said bitterly. He turned away from Kadar and stared broodingly out the window at the darkened sky.

A brown-­cloaked figure appeared in the kitchen doorway.

“Would your visitor like tea?” Farah asked politely. Then her eye fell on Ashraf, and she beamed.

“Ashraf,” she exclaimed, rushing over to him. “What brings you here?”

Kadar swallowed his envy as Ashraf took her hands in his and kissed her on the cheek.

“I have bought your cousin's freedom,” he told her. “I am here to see about combining efforts with the Hasifel hall and sharing the riches of a combined Hasifel and Nasirof venture.”

Uncle Aaron turned away from the window at that, and Uncle Tarik and Kadar exchanged glances. Nasirof silks had the finest weave, with brilliant purples and reds other dyers could not produce. There'd been rumors that expansion of the demesne had left a glut of the fine weave, but the Nasirof family had never exported—­or even spoken of exporting—­it. If Ashraf could speak of such a venture, it meant he was high in the family, possibly the heir to the demesne.

Ashraf smiled around at them, almost sheepishly. “Yes, I did have another purpose for coming here other than yelling about your clanswoman. I just cannot think of anything else since meeting her.” He shook his head.

“She has that effect on ­people,” Aunt Raella put in dryly, from the corner where she'd been observing. “It is, however, a little late for business. I would suggest a daytime meeting when things can be discussed a little more rationally.”

Ashraf smiled charmingly. “Ah, women are always the sensible ones. I will take the mistress's advice. Would you send a representative over to the Desert Sun Inn tomorrow, perhaps before midmeal?”

Uncle Tarik nodded. “Kadar will represent the family. He knows our capabilities and has the authority to make such decisions.”

It was the first time his uncles had publicly named him heir, and Kadar stood proudly. He knew the elders would rewrite the details of whatever the two younger men agreed upon, but the responsibility fell upon his shoulders fully for the first time. He wished his sister were beside him to share the burden.

Ashraf studied him a moment, smiling.

“We have much to talk about,” he told Kadar, who knew he meant more than just a venture between the families. “Perhaps Farrah can show you the inn, so she can also say good-­bye to her kinsman.”

“Great idea,” Kadar blurted out, and blushed as he was rewarded with one of her smiles. “I'm not certain of my way around Illian yet,” he added as an explanation to his uncles.

“I will look forward to seeing you then,” Ashraf said. He bowed and let himself out the front door.

Uncle Tarik shook his head, looking after him. “Sulis certainly knows how to pick them,” he said with a laugh. “Only she could make a rich Southerner heir fall in love with her on her way to the Temple—­and then dump him for the One.”

“I think Sulis may need as many allies as she can muster,” Aunt Raella said. “It certainly saved her mother, being a friend to all.”

“The first time,” Uncle Aaron replied bitterly. “In the end, no one could save her from her own stubbornness.”

Aunt Raella rolled her eyes. “There is a purpose in life beyond just keeping safe, Aaron. Iamar knew that, and so does Sulis. You cannot chain a wild
feli
,” she said, then yawned. “I for one am going to bed, and I suggest you boys stop fretting and do the same.”

Kadar returned to his room and lay down on his cot. Sleep was slow in coming, and when it did, he dreamed of Temple walls disappearing into the blue of Farrah's eyes.

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Kadar received last-­minute orders from his aunt and uncles. They seemed to wish they could go in Kadar's stead, but tradition said that heirs had to meet with heirs. Kadar finally threw up his hands in laughing protest.

“I won't sign away our hall,” he said. “Trust me, anything I'm uncertain about I will bring to you first. And nothing is final without your signatures, so what are you worried about?”

Uncle Aaron exchanged a glance with Uncle Tarik. “We need to make a good impression,” he said. “A partnership between our two families would be powerful, beyond just business. We are the two largest clans in the South. If this Ashraf has orders to approach us on business, it could be that the Nasirof clan is feeling us out for something larger.”

Uncle Tarik nodded. “This is bigger than just trading. Some of us feel it would be better to form a stronger alliance among the clans, just in case the Temple decides the South is too tasty not to finally take a bite of. We broke from the deities during the Great War, and our faith proved to the One we did not need the deities. But the Temple wants to expand its followers, to convert us back to the religion of the four.”

“But the One wouldn't allow that,” Kadar protested.

“The One doesn't involve herself in our daily lives,” Aunt Raella reminded him. “There have been wars between humans before, up north. We can't expect the One to fight our battles for us; we need to prove to her our determination and faith.”

She paused, then smiled at the look of uncertainty on Kadar's face. “We aren't asking you to stop a war, Kadar. We just think you need to be aware of what is really at stake. See what the Nasirofs want. Make friends with Ashraf if you can.”

Kadar nodded. Uncle Tarik disappeared into the salesroom and came back with Farrah, who was carrying a package wrapped in coarse, brown cloth.

“Drop this off at the Farid merchant stall on your way. Lina's been doing a lot of promotion for us, and I want her to have the best of these silks,” Uncle Tarik said.

Kadar reached for the package, and both Farrah and Uncle Tarik shook their heads.

“I've got it,” Farrah said firmly.

“Let her carry it. It gives her a reason to be with you. No respectable Illian man would be traveling with a Forsaken woman if she were not there to serve him. She'll walk a ­couple of paces behind you.”

Kadar grimaced, disgusted with the stupidity of the Illian customs. “Then how will she show me where the inn is? And how does it make me respectable to treat her with disrespect?”

“I can whisper which way to turn,” Farrah said with a smile. “Unless, of course, you have the ears of an old man.”

Kadar smiled back at her. “I can hear quite well, thank you,” he said, holding her gaze until she blushed and turned away. It seemed she wasn't as indifferent to him as she pretended.

Kadar sped through the marketplace, intent on getting his errand done so he could meet with Ashraf. At Farrah's hiss of “Slow down, you idiot!” he slowed so abruptly she almost ran into him. She managed to get a foot on the heel of one sandal, pulling it off and tripping him. He blushed at his clumsiness.

“Oh, I'm so sorry, master,” she said innocently, helping him put it back on, but with a wicked gleam in her eyes. Her hair shone like golden sand in the sunlight, and he admired the oasis blue of her eyes.

Bystanders were staring, so Kadar set a slower pace and led docilely until she directed him to a small stall to one side of the busy main road. He took the package from Farrah, and she stood over to one side of the road, away from the crowds, to wait for him.

“I am looking for Mistress Lina,” Kadar told the girl behind the counter. She looked up from the ledger she was tallying and smiled.

“Ma!” she called. “A Hasifel's here to see you.”

At his surprised look, the girl laughed. “You've got the Hasifel nose,” she told him.

“Eshe, do you have the inventory done?” The girl's mother stepped out from a curtained room.

“Yes, Ma,” the girl responded.

“Then go draw water for midmeal and remember how we address our elders,” Lina reproved.

The girl made a face at Kadar and hurried to the back room. He held back a laugh, remembering when he was her age, a few short years ago.

“I am sorry about my daughter,” Lina told him, a fond smile on her face. “She is still learning that the world does not revolve around her.”

“We are clan,” he said. “We don't need titles. Besides, in a few years, all the young men will revolve around her.”

“That is what I am afraid of,” Lina groaned. “And she will be just as vain as I was and give me the gray hairs I gave my own mother.”

Kadar held the package out toward her, and she took it eagerly.

“My uncle, Tarik, sent this to thank you,” he said.

“Then you must be Kadar,” Lina said, pulling off the paper protecting the silks. “Your aunt told me you and your sister would be coming to stay with her for a while. Oh my—­these are lovely.” Her face was blissful as she buried her fingers in the soft luxury of the silk.

Kadar had to agree as she spread out the silks, a crimson so deep it looked almost black and an amber that complemented it perfectly. They would look magnificent against the older woman's skin.

“Our best Frubian export,” he told her. This was his favorite part of being a merchant: seeing the way the silk caught the buyers, finding what suited them personally. “Though I have heard there will soon be finer silks in our merchant hall,” he said, unable to resist seeing how fast gossip traveled in Illian.

Her gaze sharpened. “Nasirof?” she asked.

He shrugged, teasing.

“I heard the heir of Nasirof visited the Hasifel hall last night,” she said, and Kadar smiled, amazed at the pace at which gossip ran through the clans. “A joining of Hasifel and Nasirof would be a great thing indeed,” she said, looking up at him as though trying to read his face. He kept his expression to a bland smile.

“An interesting thought,” he commented politely, and she laughed and punched him in the shoulder.

“Ah, Aaron has taught you too well,” she exclaimed.

Then her expression became serious, and she let out a low oath as she stared out the door, around his shoulder.

Kadar turned and saw three gentlemen surrounding Farrah. They were dressed in breeches and silk shirts, and one had an elaborate feathered hat that made him look like a fop. The man with the hat ran his hand through her golden hair as the others held her by the waist and shoulders. She was struggling to pull away.

Kadar was out the door in two strides, ignoring Lina as she tried to call him back.

The feathered one had his back to Kadar. As Kadar approached, he heard him say, “Just name your price. I'll buy you a necklace if you spend the rest of the afternoon with me. Maybe a dress and some gold, if you spend the night.” He moved his hand from her hair to her face, drawing a finger down her neck.