On Fire's Wings - Christie Golden [125]
The men fell silent as they stared first at their leader, then at his slain Second.
“He attacked me when I sat by the fire, unarmed,” Tahmu continued. “He has been sleeping with the khashima and plotting my downfall.” He lifted his eyes from the body and searched the faces of his men. “Just as Kevla said.”
They gasped. “My lord,” ventured Dumah, “surely this attack has distressed you…perhaps you….”
“I know what I know,” Tahmu said, raising his voice slightly. “Whatever…abilities…Kevla has, she has only ever used them to protect me. She saved me when my own wife tried to poison me, and she saved me again when she appeared here last night in time to warn me.”
The men looked at each other uneasily. Tahmu understood their conflict. They honored and trusted him, but he was asking a great deal.
“I don’t ask you to believe it,” he said. “But you will obey my orders, as is your duty. We return home. I will not hunt Kevla, and Jashemi….” He suddenly could not speak. They waited for him, and finally he managed to say, “Jashemi is dead. Dumah, prepare a message for the hawk. I want to make sure that no one tries to harm Kevla if she encounters anyone.”
The men did not protest, but he saw their grief for their young master and their unhappiness with his pronouncement. He hoped that he had earned enough admiration and respect so that he could keep his clan together when he refused to kill a kuli in his own household.
They would need something from him in order to do that, some sign that he was still their leader, still unafraid to do the unpleasant things that a khashim must do.
He felt certain he could oblige them.
Yeshi was waiting for him as he and his men entered the courtyard a few days later. She was clad in her best finery. Her long hair was braided and bound atop her head, woven with jewelry throughout. Her lips, eyes, and cheeks were decorated. Her rhia was of blue and gold material, heavily embroidered. She stood atop the steps to the House, beautiful and furious, her eyes snapping with anger.
Tahmu had been wary about the encounter, but now he smiled to himself. She was going to make this easy. He looked her full in the eye as he marched toward her and climbed the steps.
Breaking protocol, certain in her power, Yeshi spoke first.
“My husband, you disappoint me,” she announced. There were many assembled in the courtyard, and all heard the words.
He kept the small smile on his lips, tacitly encouraging her to continue her rant.
“You left to slay kulis. Then you send me a message saying that you have chosen to shirk your duty. How could you leave your people so defenseless? How could you betray them so?” As she spoke, her eyes flickered over the men and he saw her face tighten slightly when she did not see Halid.
She had given him his opening. “It is interesting, wife, that you should speak of slaying and betrayal,” Tahmu said, his voice carrying. “I think you did not expect me to come home with the slain bodies of my child and the Bai-sha. I think you did not expect me to come home at all.”
Yeshi stiffened. It would be imperceptible to anyone who did not know her well, but Tahmu didn’t miss it.
Rallying, she cried, “Yes! I would think that if you failed to catch the demons, you would be ashamed to come home to me, to your Clan, empty-handed!”
“Ah,” he said conversationally, “but I have not returned empty-handed. I have flushed my quarry, but it is not a kuli. Here is what I bring home to my khashima!”
Knowing all eyes were riveted on him, he gestured to Dumah. Pale and large-eyed, Dumah handed his lord a small sack. Tahmu opened it, reached in, grasped his prize, and brandished it in his wife’s face.
It was the rotting head of Halid.
Yeshi screamed and shrank back, her hand to her mouth. Her shock was echoed around the courtyard as everyone else stared at the grisly trophy. Tahmu turned, holding the head by the hair so that all gathered could see it.
“Behold the head of a traitor!” he cried. “This man attacked me at my own fire, by stealth,