On Fire's Wings - Christie Golden [101]
Confusion whirled in his brain, but there was one thing that stood out above all else: he loved his children. Kevla had given him reason enough to condemn her, according to their laws. And yet, fire was the Dragon’s symbol. Was the Dragon protecting the girl, or issuing a challenge to Tahmu? Surely, the Dragon would not want Tahmu to slay his own progeny—or would it?
If he did not pursue them, his people would turn on him. They were frightened; he needed to allay the fears that his wife had stirred up in them. He would hunt his children. But that did not mean he needed to find them.
“Yeshi,” he whispered, bending in as if to kiss her, “you are dead to me with these words.”
Straightening, he said aloud, “My wife is right. Jashemi and Kevla must be found…and killed.” His voice broke on the last word and he dared say no more.
He moved forward, heading for the corral to find a sa’abah. His way was blocked by the figure of a small, old woman. She was the last person Tahmu wanted to see right now.
“Sahlik, out of my way,” he warned.
She stood her ground and looked up at him. “I will not move,” she said, “until you refute what you have just said.”
“The Clan—”
“You know in your heart that Kevla is not a demon! And Jashemi is only being a good brother to his sister. His mind is his own, as are his actions. Do not go after them, Tahmu, or you will regret it for the rest of your life!”
“I must,” he said, trying to push past her.
Then Sahlik did something she had never done to him before. Slowly, with difficulty, she lowered herself to her hands and knees and bent her gray head into the dirt. One gnarled hand reached to touch his sandal imploringly.
“Great Tahmu,” she said, her voice trembling, “I beg of you. I beg of you. Let the children go.”
“It is not my wish,” he said, kneeling and lifting her up gently. “You of all people know that, Sahlik. But they are my responsibility, both of them. I sired them, and they have been cursed by kulis. If I skirt this, if I let them go because they are my children, any who are not content in the Clan will turn on me. The Clan will be ripped apart.”
Sahlik’s old body shook with one violent sob. Then she lifted her head, and her eyes blazed. Before he realized what she was doing, she had reached for the ceremonial knife he always carried. For a wild instant he thought she would try to attack him, but instead she shoved up the sleeve of her rhia, baring her forearm, exposing the four old scars that marked her place in the household. Looking defiantly into the eyes of her lord, she sliced into her own arm with his blade, cutting a fifth score and emphatically ending over fifty years of service to the House of Four Waters.
Sahlik spat on the ground, looked at Tahmu with contempt, and tossed the knife to the earth. Her head high, blood dripping from the cut that marked her as a free woman, Sahlik turned and strode out the gates.
Tahmu watched her go, raising a commanding hand when one of the guards would have stopped her. He was beyond anger, rage, grief. He knew only a deep, profound sorrow that made him feel older than Sahlik.
I would I were a lesser man, he thought.
“Bring sa’abahs and weapons,” he said to the guard who had appeared at his elbow. “We ride after the kulis.”
Chapter Twenty
Kevla clung to Jashemi, her skin, protected only by the shade of the sa’abah’s tail, exposed to the sun and wind, and tightened her lips against the increasing thirst. How long they rode without stopping, she did not know. Neither of them spoke; the brutal pace of their flight did not lend itself to conversation. She had experienced a rush of joy at his unexpected appearance and her salvation, but the euphoria had faded and fearful thoughts were taking its place.
Jashemi had left the main road early, as if he had a specific destination in mind. He was