On Fire's Wings - Christie Golden [11]
“It is a long trip to the House of Four Waters,” he said, reaching to pick her up and place her astride Swift. “We had best be on our way.”
It was, in truth, not that long of a journey, not by horseback. But Tahmu was used to galloping, and he knew that Kevla was unfamiliar with riding, so for the most part, he held Swift to a walk. Tahmu had expected the child to be full of questions, but the parting with her mother had clearly affected her deeply. She would not, of course, bawl like a proper caste child at the separation and the cruel words with which Keishla had sent the girl on her way. Not a Bai-sha. After the one delighted outburst at the softness of Swift’s muzzle, Kevla was quiet for a long time, saying nothing even when they passed through the heart of the marketplace, when she might have been expected to gloat just a bit.
Tahmu drew rein at a stall not far from where, earlier, Kevla had been crying her mother’s wares and bought her a meat pie, rich with spices and candied fruits. If the shopkeeper recognized Kevla perched atop so magnificent an animal as Swift-Over-Sand, he gave no sign as he handed Tahmu the pastry with much bowing and averting of eyes.
Kevla accepted it with a deep nod and a polite, “Thank you, Khashim Tahmu.” Once again, she confounded him. He had expected her to gobble it down. Instead, she ate daintily, taking small, ladylike bites although she must have been famished.
Whatever else, Keishla had trained the girl well in courtesy. Tahmu was glad. It would make integrating Kevla into his household that much easier.
They left the marketplace behind, passing through wide, flat areas of land where horses, goats, and other domesticated beasts were temporarily corralled. Livestock was for sale at the marketplace, too, at this time of year. Unable to help himself, Tahmu cast a quick glance over the beasts. Sorry, sickly things, most of them. They lay panting in the hot sun, their coats blotchy with sweat. Bones were visible beneath the skin, and even from this distance Tahmu could see their eyes were running with a thick, black ooze. The horses barely had enough energy to swish their tails at the flies that swarmed about them. It was better to trade directly with the Horserider Clan or the Sa’abah Clan than to pick up an animal here at the market.
And, Tahmu mused sourly, it is better to trade with those clans than to fight with them. Unfortunately, the choice was not always his.
They followed the road toward the mountain range that jutted skyward like a mouthful of broken teeth. Tahmu finally decided that this silence from the little sparrow of a girl he had seen dancing on the street corner was not to his liking, Bai-sha or no.
“Do you not have any questions as to your duties, little one?”
She sat in front of him as she had before, and his arm was a strong support about her waist. He felt her shrug against him.
“I am certain that the great khashim has head servants to explain my duties once I have arrived,” she said, quite properly.
Tahmu sighed a little in exasperation. Chuckling, he said, “I do not know how to handle you, little one. If you were—” His voice caught. He coughed, as if dust had tickled his throat, and continued. “If you were my child, I would know. If you were the daughter of a stranger, I would know. If you were a servant, I would know. But you are none of these, and I touch you with my words as I touch a young hawk with my fingers—gingerly, with gloves, ready to jerk my hand back or pet you on the head.”
That roused a giggle from her, as he had intended. Continuing the gentle joke, Tahmu patted the sun-warmed top of her head cautiously. The giggling increased.
“How curious your hair is, Kevla. Your mother’s hair is black, as is—as is nearly everyone’s. Yours seems black, but in the sun, it is red. Did your mother perchance use henna on it?”
“No. It’s always been like that.” She twisted to look at him, her