On Fire's Wings - Christie Golden [33]
He thought of the girl he had glimpsed at the feast.
“I think I know why you cannot make Mother happy, Father,” he said softly. With a sigh, he rolled over in the soft sheets, closed his eyes, and slept.
The next morning, the men of the household were to go hunting. Jashemi’s servants woke him well before dawn, presenting him with a hot cup of eusho, hard-boiled eggs, and fruit to break his fast. He sipped the beverage slowly, nibbled on the sweet paraah, and then headed down to visit the caverns. His servants offered to come with him, to wash his hair and scrub his back, but he ordered them to stay behind. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts.
He descended the stone steps quickly, his mind elsewhere, and before he knew it he was standing in the cavern, gazing at the underground pools.
A girl shot to the surface, expelling air with a gasp. Jashemi felt heat rise to his cheeks and he turned away.
“Oh!” cried the girl. “Oh, my lord, forgive me, I shall depart at once.” He heard her emerge from the pool, heard the splattering, slapping sounds of wet feet padding quickly over to the clothes basket.
“There is no need,” he told her, not turning around. “I will come back later.”
“No, my lord, no, you are the khashimu. I beg forgiveness; usually no one comes down here at this time….”
That’s right, Jashemi thought. There are set times for servants and family. The wet feet approached him and then went silent. Curious, he turned around to see the girl huddled at his feet. Her long hair was wet and tangled. Water dripped from it to pool on the stone. Odd, it seemed to him almost red in the torchlight. His heart leaped. It was the girl from the banquet….
“Look at me,” he said, his voice adopting the tone of command.
She did so, lifting her eyes to his. But apparently, she did not see in his face what he saw in hers. He smiled at her.
“What is your name?”
“Kevla, my lord.”
“There is nothing to forgive, Kevla. Servants have as much a right to enjoy the bounty of the House of Four Waters as I do. I’ve been so long away I’ve forgotten who bathes when.”
She gave him a tentative smile. “You are kind to say these words. May I have my lord’s permission to leave?”
“Yes, Kevla. You may go.”
Jashemi turned to watch her as she scurried up the steps, her white rhia turning dark where it clung to her still-wet body, her little feet leaving clear footprints on the stone. He wanted to call her back, to talk to her, but he did not know what to say.
He bathed in silence, his thoughts even heavier now than they had been when he descended.
The morning air was cool on Jashemi’s face as they rode their sa’abahs away from the House and toward the mountains. His heart lifted a little as he saw Mount Bari far in the distance. Naram lived well south of the House of Four Waters, too far away for Jashemi to see the sacred mountain, and he had missed it. He said a quick prayer to the Dragon who lived in its heart, and asked that it would be in a forgiving mood when he spoke to his father.
There were eight of them riding out to hunt today: Jashemi and Tahmu, Tahmu’s Second, Halid, and five servants. Two would ride with them and assist in the hunt, dressing the animals that their lord and his son were certain to bring down, while the other three would set up a camp and have shade, cool drinks, and meals ready for the hunters during the heat of the day.
With the exception of Sahlik—who was the exception to so many things—Jashemi had never really paid much attention to his servants. He had never been unkind to them—his father would not permit abuse of servants and besides, it was not in Jashemi’s nature to be cruel—but he had never truly thought of them as people, as he and his parents and Halid were people. Now he watched them from under long lashes, trying to remember their names, if they had families.
“You are quiet today, my son,” Tahmu said, bringing his mount alongside Jashemi’s.
“I…do not have much to say, Father,” Jashemi replied. His face burned at the lie.