On Fire's Wings - Christie Golden [102]
She thought about her dreams, and trembled, tightening her grip around Jashemi’s waist. They had transgressed, both of them. The Great Dragon, the strict keeper of the laws and traditions of their people, would exact punishment.
After they had passed the altar, Jashemi guided the sa’abah westward. The creature climbed the small hills at the foot of the mountain. But the beast was tiring, and the hills grew increasingly steep.
Jashemi brought the sa’abah to a halt and slipped off. Not looking at Kevla, he held up a hand to indicate that she should stay mounted. He tugged off his rhia and stood clad only in breeches. He handed the garment up to her.
“Put this on, and then dismount,” he said. “It will be easier if we walk.”
Surprised by the blunt tone of his voice, she did as he instructed. He reached to help her down and as her bare feet touched the warmed earth, their bodies were but a hand’s width apart. She risked a look up at him and saw an expression in his eyes she could not comprehend. He touched her cheek with his forefinger, gently, then turned and grasped the sa’abah’s lead.
“Come. This way.”
She followed him down a tricky patch of stones and was glad that she was no longer riding. The sa’abah’s long, powerful toes found secure grips, but it would have been thrown off balance with two riders atop its back.
Suddenly, Jashemi stopped so abruptly she almost walked into him. He looked back, puzzled, then smiled. Her heart lifted to see that expression on his face.
“I walked right past it,” he said. “Good. No one who doesn’t know what to look for will find it.”
He retraced his steps and Kevla now saw, hidden by an apparently random group of stones, a narrow entrance into the mountain.
“The sa’abah won’t want to go in,” Jashemi said. “Hold him, Kevla.” She did so and he slipped inside, reappearing a moment later with hands that were cupped to hold—
“Water!” she cried.
“Yes,” he said. “There’s a natural spring in here. I found this place when I was a boy.” He held out his dripping hands to the creature. Its long purple tongue crept out and lapped the precious liquid, and when Jashemi coaxed it with soft words, it sniffed, scented the water, and hesitantly entered the cave.
Kevla followed, stepping into a cool darkness that was startling after the glare of the sun. It took her several blinks before her eyes adjusted. The cave wasn’t large, and the little spring was nothing compared to the luxurious pool at the House of Four Waters. But the cave was big enough for the three of them, and it had water.
Kevla rushed toward the pool and began to drink. Jashemi and the sa’abah joined her. Kevla splashed some on her face and closed her eyes at how good it felt.
“I’m sorry I have no food,” Jashemi said as he leaned back against the stone wall. “But at least there is water.”
Kevla looked down at her wet hands. She did not know where to begin. The sa’abah, its thirst slaked for the moment, loped back toward the entrance of the cave, settled its bulk down, and closed its eyes.
“You may bathe if you like,” he said. When she hesitated, he said, “I’ll turn around.”
“It’s not that,” she began, “but Jashemi, you—”
The odd look on his face stopped her. “Wash, Kevla,” he said gently. “We’ll talk afterward.”
He turned around as he had promised. Kevla felt utterly miserable. Everything had changed so suddenly, and so completely. She was alive because of Jashemi, but she had never wanted him to be put at risk.
She did not immerse herself, but stood and sluiced down her sun-heated skin with the cool fluid as best she could. She felt a little better, a little cleaner, and shrugged into the rhia. “I am done, my lord,” she said softly. He whirled as if stung, and this time she had no trouble reading his expression. He was angry.
“Don’t call me that!”
Startled and hurt by the outburst, Kevla went