On Fire’s Wings (11 page)

“I will come back,” he said firmly.

“But only the Great Dragon knows our destinies,” she replied, her voice catching on the words.

Jashemi placed one hand on either side of her face, forcing her to look into his eyes.

“We are not done with each other yet,” he said fiercely. “I don't know my destiny, but I know this much. I can feel it. Can't you?”

As she gazed into his eyes, she felt a sudden lightening. Her tense muscles eased, relaxing so that she almost slumped. He was right. Somehow, in a way that surpassed her understanding, she knew that he was right. What she felt swirling inside her now was not something as frail as hope. It was swift, certain knowledge.

Some would die in this retaliatory raid. Perhaps people she knew. Perhaps even Tahmu.

But not Jashemi.

We are not done with each other yet.

T
he warriors departed the next morning. Kevla had lined up with the other servants to watch the warriors march through the courtyard and down the road that led past the twining Four Waters and beyond.

As the ones who had issued the rallying cry, the members of the Clan of Four Waters were the last ones to depart. Kevla stood properly clad in the veil in front of so many male strangers at such a formal function. Most rode horses, a very few rode
sa'abahs
—Ranna nudged Tiah and muttered, “They'll likely come home with more of
those
”—and many walked. They almost danced as they passed, and the crowd cheered and whistled.

“It's as if they are going off to a game,” Kevla said softly.

“No game,” Sahlik sighed, “but you would not know it. Here come our people.”

Tahmu, proudly astride Swift-Over-Sand, led the procession. Beside him on a
sa'abah
rode Jashemi. Neither whooped or danced, although some of the other clansmen did. Tahmu smiled reassuringly at the assembled crowd of wives, children, and servants, and Jashemi emulated his father. He did not meet Kevla's gaze.

Yeshi stood at the gate. Kevla had helped her with her cosmetics that morning, but it was obvious the
khashima
had been crying in the intervening time. The kohl that had encircled her dark eyes had run down her face and been wiped away, smearing both the rivulet of black and the red rouge of the great lady's cheeks so that Yeshi almost appeared to have been assaulted. Her full, red lips trembled and her eyes were bright with tears. She wore no veil; as the highest ranking female present, the only one who outranked her was her husband.

Tahmu dismounted and embraced his wife. She hugged him, but it was for her son that Yeshi reserved her fiercest affections. She dropped to her knees and clung to him, the tears again flooding her face with black streams of grief. Jashemi wiped the tears away, as he had done with Kevla last night, and his expression as he regarded his mother was one of deep compassion. Kevla was too far away to hear what Yeshi said, but as the minutes passed and Yeshi did not rise nor release her son, she could feel the tension in the crowd.

Sahlik moved quickly toward her mistress, stepping behind Yeshi and placing her hands on her shoulders. Jashemi gently disengaged himself. Tahmu whispered something to his wife, who brightened and put a beringed hand on her gently swelling belly. She straightened and stepped away from husband and son.

They rode out, and as the gates closed behind them, Kevla felt a dreadful hollowness in her chest.

Yeshi stepped forward. “In the absence of the
khashim,
his Second, and the heir,” she said, her voice thick with grief but surprisingly strong, “all orders will come from me. The first order I will issue as present leader of the Clan of Four Waters is that every day we will petition the Great Dragon with offerings, so that he will be moved to bring our men safely home.”

A murmur of approval went up. Yeshi nodded, pleased. “We will begin today.”

 

The days dragged by. Yeshi did not seem to have a great deal of time for her women during the day, though at night she was more exhausted than Kevla had ever seen her. At that time, she wanted all three of them to massage her swollen feet, rub oil on her growing belly, and speak softly and kindly to her.

Each day, Kevla went to the aerie, to see if there were any messages from the war party. Sometimes there were, but the hawk master would hardly reveal their precious contents to so lowly a servant, although as Kevla's appearance became a regular occurrence, he grew fond of her. Sometimes Yeshi would share the news, sometimes not.

Kevla's lessons with Asha continued. He was particularly anxious for her to learn about childbirth, in case Yeshi's baby came before Maluuk and the others returned. While happy to be trusted with such information, Kevla found the hours spent in the healer's hut only served to emphasize Jashemi's absence.

Days stretched into weeks, and then months. Celebration days came and went, and Yeshi presided over the revelry. Although the unctuous Bahrim flirted heavily with the
khashima
—and he was not alone among the
uhlals
casting glances at the beautiful great lady—Yeshi's growing belly seemed to discourage further improper advances. With each moon she tired more easily, and spent more time sleeping. Asha and Kevla examined her every day, and at one point Asha announced with certainty, “The child could come very soon.”

Yeshi shook her head. “The child will not come until his father returns home.”

Asha bit his lip, hesitant to disagree, and finally said diplomatically, “Then let us pray that that day will be soon.”

Not long after that, Kevla was in Yeshi's chambers, watching the morning processional heading out to the House's altar. Though she had never visited it, she knew that it was some miles distant. Each clan had an altar at the foot of the nearest mountain. The entire chain was sacred to the Great Dragon, and never to be crossed, although of course Mount Bari was the mighty creature's home. Some clan altars were only for show, but Tahmu-kha-Rakyn had always been particularly devout and eager to placate the Dragon. Household gossip held that this was why the House of Four Waters was so prosperous. His wife continued the tradition in her husband's absence, and each morning the party left, laden with gold, food, sweet herbs, jugs of water, and wine, all to please the Dragon. As her eye followed them, watching the group growing smaller as they headed down the road, Kevla noticed movement in the sky. She squinted against the sunlight, already harsh though it was still early, and saw that it was a bird.

It was a hawk.

Her heart leaped, as it always did whenever one of the winged messengers arrived. She raced out the doors, down the spiral stone stairs, out of the House and across the courtyard to the aerie. By the time she had ascended the stairs, breathless and sweaty, the bird had arrived and the hawk master was unfastening the small message.

He read it quickly, and a grin spread over his face. He turned to Kevla, thrust the message at her and said, “Give this to your mistress! Hurry!”

Kevla took the message and hurried down the stairs. The small, tightly rolled piece of parchment seemed to burn in her hand. As she reentered the coolness of the House, she ducked into a corner and unrolled the message with shaking hands.

Yeshi: We are victorious. The clan has scattered with only a few of their precious
sa'abahs.
The rest, we have captured and will divide among the clans. We will also have many five-scores. Jashemi conducted himself with skill and honor. Halid, too, did the Clan and his
khashim
proud. Our allies worked well together and all are pleased with the results. We have lost men, but that was to be expected. If only it was not necessary to trade lives for pride and livestock. With
sa'abahs
enough so that all high-caste warriors may ride them, we will make good time returning home. I hope the baby and you are well.

Kevla's knees suddenly went weak and she almost slid down the wall to the floor. Jashemi and Tahmu had survived. That was all she needed to know. Five-scores,
sa'abahs,
Clan honor—no doubt these things were important to others, but as far as she was concerned, they would have been bought at too dear a cost if it had meant having to ceremonially burn the corpses of the
khashim
and his heir.

She heard footsteps and the sound of voices. Quickly, Kevla rerolled the scrap of parchment and hastened along the corridor to the stairs. Yeshi was in her room, standing and bathing her face when Kevla burst the door open.

Yeshi turned to frown at the noisy interruption, but Kevla thrust the message at her. “The hawkmaster smiled when he read it,” she said. “So it must be good news.”

Yeshi snatched the parchment out of Kevla's hands. Her eyes flickered back and forth much more rapidly than Kevla's had when she had read the missive. Yeshi brought a hand to her lips, and although she began to weep she smiled broadly.

“Good news indeed,” she said to Kevla. “They are victorious and they are coming home. My son and my husband are safe.” She pressed the small letter to her chest. “Thank the Great Dragon. Kevla, run and fetch Sahlik. We must be about preparing for a celebration!”

Kevla wondered if Yeshi had read the part about
we have lost men
. Was it possible to celebrate and grieve at the same time? Would there be pyres blazing under the starlit skies the same night as celebratory torches flickered in the great hall?

As she hastened to the kitchens, she could not help but think about Jashemi. She had tried not to dwell overmuch on thoughts of the
khashimu
and the odd parting they had made. Now, with his arrival imminent, the memory of that night flooded back to her. He had wanted her to admit that she would miss him, would fear for him.

We are not done with each other yet
. His prediction that he would return had come true, and her heart was glad of it. Yet now that he would soon be back, what would he want from her? They had crossed a line that night, when he knelt in front of a servant and wiped the tears from her face, and she feared what lay on the other side of it.

 

It was only three days later that Tahmu's colors of red and gold were spotted against the blue sky. The deep, resonant sound of the
shakaal
issued, and the weary but exultant scout announced that the
khashim
was only a few hours behind him.

Yeshi was sitting at her window, watching the horizon intently, while Kevla dusted her mistress's face with powder and Ranna and Tiah worked on her feet and hair respectively. “I want to be the first to see him,” Yeshi had said.

As Kevla applied the kohl, Yeshi started. A black line went straight from her eye to her ear.

“They are coming!” Yeshi cried, leaping up. She knocked over the basin of water at her feet, which splashed all over Ranna's lap. Oblivious to the chaos she was creating for her handmaidens, she pointed out the window. “They are—”

Suddenly, Yeshi doubled over, her hands clutching her belly. Kevla caught her as she stumbled and would have fallen. There was a puddle of liquid at Yeshi's feet. At first glance, Kevla thought it was the spilled water from the basin…but that had gone all over Ranna, not the floor….

“Help me,” Kevla snapped. “The baby is coming!”

“What…what should we do?” Ranna stammered.

“Fetch Asha. He'll bring the birthing stool and herbs,” said Kevla, reciting the steps Asha had drummed into her head. “And hot water—we need hot water and towels.”

Yeshi's fingers dug into Kevla's shoulders and she moaned softly. Kevla looked up at her mistress and tried to smile reassuringly.

“The great lady said the baby would wait for his father,” she reminded Yeshi. “Well, the one is coming, and now so is the other.”

 

Ranna was dismissed after she became ill. Tiah seemed made of sterner stuff and stayed on. Sahlik arrived quickly, and was a deeply comforting presence. Asha, too, was calm and soothing, his long fingers gently probing the mother-to-be's body.

“It has turned,” he said reassuringly. “This should be an easy birth.”

The look Yeshi gave him at this comment made him cringe. Yeshi was sweating, her hair was a tangled mess, and she seemed beyond words. All Kevla heard from her were shrieks, moans and growls.

She steeled herself to the sounds of Yeshi's pain. Neither Sahlik nor Asha seemed disturbed by the noises, so Kevla assumed that this was simply part of a normal birth. Every few minutes, Kevla glanced anxiously out the window, to see how much closer the returning warriors had come.

After a few hours had passed, Kevla went to the window and saw a milling throng of people down in the courtyard. She could not see Tahmu, but he had to be there. Hastening back to Asha, she said, “The warriors are here!”

“Good,” he said. “Great lady, get on the stool.”

Whimpering, Yeshi straddled the wooden birthing stool, supported by the strong arms of Tiah and Sahlik. Kevla had prepared the tepid pool of water with scented herbs to catch the baby. She placed it between Yeshi's parted legs, risking a glimpse at Asha. His fingers were just inside Yeshi's body, and they were coated with dark fluids. Kevla gulped, and for a moment envied the absent Ranna.

Suddenly, Yeshi cried, “No! Tahmu must be here!”

“Great lady,” stammered Asha, “the baby will come as it chooses. To try to halt—”

“Tahmu!” screamed Yeshi.
“Tahmu!”

“Dragon's teeth,” muttered Asha. “Kevla, go find Tahmu.”

Kevla nodded and raced down the stairs, once slipping and almost falling in her haste. There was a huge commotion in the courtyard, and although she had grown considerably in her time at the House, she was still so short she could not see over the tall figures of the returning warriors.