On Fire's Wings - Christie Golden [26]
Yeshi was having a grand time. She thrived on the attention, and ordered her servant to purchase all manner of jewelry and trinkets. She generously bought drinks, honeycakes, and meat pies for Kevla and Tiah, and Kevla realized that the delicacies she had so carefully packed would be forgotten and spoil in the hot sun.
Tiah ate her cake quickly, clearly enjoying the sticky sweetness of it. Kevla found it too cloying, but knew that Yeshi wanted her to eat it. She was just about to take another bite when someone cleared his throat.
“Most honored khashima,” said a smooth voice. “What a pleasant surprise to encounter you here.”
The speaker was a high-caste man who stood beside the litter. His clothing was almost as fine as Tahmu’s and his oiled, well-trimmed beard parted to reveal white teeth. Kevla took an instant dislike to him. She thought that Tahmu would not have approved of the way this man’s eyes roamed over Yeshi’s face and dropped briefly to her body.
Yeshi, however, seemed pleased to see the stranger. Leaning over, she purred, “Uhlal Bahrim. You have been absent from our feasts lately.”
“Not by my own will, great lady. My lands need supervision if they are to yield crops satisfactory to the khashim.”
Her smile grew and she asked, “So it is your love for my lord that keeps you from our hall?”
He leaned in closer to the litter and said, “Nothing else would keep me from the radiance of your company.”
Disgusted with the exchange but careful not to show it, Kevla returned to her honeycake. Suddenly, a cry rang out.
“It is you!”
Every head turned in the direction of the shout. A poorly dressed, low-caste man was pushing his way toward the khashima. It was obviously a beggar, but Kevla had never seen any of the beggars who frequented the marketplace be so assertive.
Yeshi’s men set the litter down as quickly and smoothly as possible. Drawing curved swords, four of them stepped protectively in front of their mistress. Others moved toward the increasingly hysterical man. Yeshi’s face was impassive, but Kevla saw her painted fingers tighten on the chair arm. Bahrim took the opportunity to lay his hand on hers.
“It is you!” the man cried again, pointing directly at—
“Me?” Kevla whispered, her hand going to her throat. He must have recognized her from the market. But how? The veil hid everything but her kohl-rimmed eyes. Bahrim gaped at her.
“I’ve been trying to find you!” the man continued. Flecks of spittle flew from his lips and his eyes were enormous. “She and I,” he said, turning to look at Tiah, “we’ve been waiting for you!”
Kevla looked over at Tiah, but the other woman stared back at the man. She seemed turned to stone in place atop her mare.
“You will not address my women so,” said Yeshi coldly.
“They are not your women, great lady, they are ours—they belong to all of Arukan! I have dreamed of you. Had visions of you riding the Great Dragon—”
Visions? The Dragon? Kevla felt horror seep through her. The man was not simply an aggressive beggar. He had visions. He was blaspheming the Great Dragon. That could only mean one thing.
“Kuli-cursed!” screamed a voice from the crowd. The word seemed to jolt everyone into action. Yeshi’s men sprang upon the man. He went down under a pile of muscular, sun-browned bodies, and when they got to their feet the man’s face was bruised and bloody.
“Great lady, what would you have us do with him?” one of Yeshi’s men asked, slightly out of breath.
Yeshi’s eyes were wide and her breathing was quick, but other than that she seemed perfectly in control. “The kulis have seduced him. There is only one punishment for the kuli-cursed.”
Kevla began to tremble and clenched her hands hard in her lap. Everyone