On Fire's Wings - Christie Golden [131]
“But if our own khashim has had the same visions as twenty others, how can we deny the power in that?”
Yumar frowned. “I just don’t trust this woman.”
“You don’t trust any woman, Yumar.”
“True. But I don’t have any reason to.”
An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Yumar had had his heart broken many times. Jalik sometimes felt guilty, for he had a faithful and loving wife and two healthy children. He thought of his mate, and knew that he would trust her with anything. Even his life. If a woman told Yumar the sky was blue, he would feel compelled to look up just to make sure.
Finally, Jalik said, “Our khashim has ordered us here. We obey him.”
“Let us hope that we will not need a new khashim by the time all is done,” muttered Yumar darkly.
Melaan walked somewhat nervously up to the tent of Tahmu-kha-Rakyn. Following behind him were the Lorekeepers of the Horserider Clan and the Sandcattle Clan. Melaan had not seen Tahmu since Jashemi’s wedding. The man was intimidating and powerful, and Melaan had no idea how his son’s death might have affected him. The fact that the khashim had brought his clan to this meeting, several dozen warriors strong, boded well, but Melaan still worried.
He identified himself to the stone-faced man who guarded the khashim’s tent, and a moment later was permitted to enter.
Sorrow washed over Melaan as Tahmu looked up from reading a scroll. The khashim of the Clan of Four Waters was fit and handsome, and had always looked much younger than his true years. Now, he looked old. His eyes were haunted.
Melaan bowed. “Great lord,” he said, “as one who is what your son was, let me offer my deepest condolences on your loss. Jashemi was well-loved and respected by the Sa’abah Clan.”
Tahmu nodded curtly and his lips tightened. “Thank you, Melaan. What is your purpose here?”
“Many of us—the Lorekeepers—” by the Dragon, the title still seemed strange “—desire to meet with one another. We each have a little knowledge of what has gone before, and we feel it would be valuable to set as much as we can down plainly.”
Tahmu again nodded. “Has anyone resisted this?”
“A few, my lord. They fear what will happen when a khashim sits next to a sa’abah herder and listens to her words.”
Tahmu laughed shortly. “If we are lucky, then perhaps the same thing as when a stubborn khashim listened to a Bai-sha.”
“My lord?”
Tahmu waved the question away. “Do not mind me, Melaan. There are two Lorekeepers in my Clan, a beggar and a serving girl. They have my permission to attend this…council. But you must promise to share what you know.”
“We will, lord. We will share everything with everyone.”
Somewhat to Tahmu’s surprise, he learned that every clan had agreed to send their Lorekeepers to the meeting. Much was written down, but according to Tiah, there would need to be more meetings in order to complete the sharing of knowledge, and there were many other clans who had not yet arrived. Even so, the document would read as a tale with more left out than set down. While the Lorekeepers seemed to have bonded, the rest of the clans remained deeply suspicious of one another. Tahmu said a quick prayer to the Dragon that no accident or incident that might spark violence would occur. Tensions were tight as a bowstring, and it would not take much for this “meeting of the clans” to become a bloodbath.
The night passed without incident, as did the next day. More clans arrived; more opportunities for disaster. They kept coming, until at last Tahmu thought he saw nearly every clan represented. Some had come with men, ready to fight; others were smaller delegations, sent by their leaders to gather information and assess the situation before the clan would commit to anything.
The appointed day Kevla had given them came and went. That night, no one slept. Dumah begged Tahmu to leave, but Tiah, growing more and more confident in her Lorekeeper knowledge, insisted that they remain.
Then it happened.
The following day, shortly before sunset, four members of the Horserider Clan encountered six members of