On Fire's Wings - Christie Golden [14]
Swift continued forward, and then Kevla saw the jewel in this agricultural crown—the House of Four Waters itself.
“Oh,” she said, softly. The word was a sigh, a prayer.
Every other building Kevla had ever seen was made either of stone or mud. The colors were that of the surrounding desert landscape—yellow, red, brown, or gray. Some people occasionally covered their walls with white plaster, the better to keep out the hot sun. But the House of Four Waters was a riot of colors. It was several houses, really. Each one was larger than any other four houses Kevla had ever seen. The background was white, but they had been painted. Geometric shapes of green, red, black, blue, yellow, orange, purple—every color Kevla had ever seen and some she had no names for. Swirls and dots, sharp angles, gentle waves caught the eye of the viewer and lured the gaze along the lines of the houses. Even the walls that penned in the domestic animals were gaily hued. Kevla admired the spirited horses, the healthy-looking goats and sandcattle, the—
“Oh!” It was a gasp this time. “What are they?”
She had, she hoped, managed to contain most of her shock and ignorance. But the sight of the pale brown creatures grazing in the pen had startled her more than anything she had yet beheld.
They were roughly the size of horses, but built like no horse she had ever seen. Their hind legs were massive, while their forelegs were small, with dainty appendages. As Kevla watched, one reached up toward a tree that hung over into the pen, plucked a fruit from it, and, for all the world like a human, held the food in its forepaws and nibbled at it. A huge, fluffy tail served to shade it completely. Large ears swiveled back and forth as the creature fed.
“They are sa’abahs,” said Tahmu. “I am not surprised that you have never seen one. Even I have only four of them. The Sa’abah Clan demands a high price for them, and only then if they are in the mood for conducting a trade. Most often—” and there was a hint of disappointment in the khashim’s rich voice “—they are eager to fight. It seems they value a horde of five-scores more than food for their people.”
“Sa’abahs,” breathed Kevla, her rapt gaze still on the creatures. “I have heard of them. They can cross the desert on a cupful of water. They can eat anything. Their feet are so broad they can walk across sand without sinking. They—”
“Enough,” chuckled Tahmu. “It is true, they need little water to traverse the desert, but they certainly need more than a cupful. Rare and worth their weight in water indeed they are, but they are beasts, nonetheless, not magical creatures.”
“If the great khashim says so, then so it must be,” replied Kevla, doubt creeping into her voice, “but my eyes tell me otherwise.”
Tahmu laughed aloud at that, then sobered. “Kevla, turn and look at me.”
The girl obeyed. Tahmu’s face was serious.
“You are wise for your age, so I think you will understand. No one must know that your mother was a—did what she did. To all who ask, you must reply that you are a poor orphan I found in the streets of the marketplace.”
Kevla frowned. “But great khashim, I have skills that a lady would value. I know how to dress hair, to apply henna. How will I explain knowing these things?”
Tahmu thought for a moment. “A good point. We will—you will say your mother was a dancer. Not a highly regarded profession, but better than a halaan.”
Kevla considered this. “But even a dancer has a name.”
His eyes were compassionate as he spoke the words that dashed her hopes. “Then you must still be Bai-sha. I am sorry for that; I would have spared you shame where I could. But the story of a dancer is closer to the truth, and a lie that has a seed of truth in it is easier to tell.”
He placed his finger under her chin and tilted her face up. “It is better to be Bai-sha in the House of Four Waters than Bai-sha on a dusty corner, is it not?”
Kevla thought of her mother’s last