On Fire's Wings - Christie Golden [34]
Tahmu’s dark, wise eyes roamed his son’s face. He sighed, looking somehow older than he had a moment ago.
“Of course. When the scouts leave to flush the quarry.”
Jashemi looked at Halid, who was riding not far away. Tahmu’s Second was a fixture in Jashemi’s life. He sat straight in the saddle, a mountain of a man, with a thick black beard and long, wavy hair that was presently covered by a white kerchief. If anything happened to Tahmu before Jashemi came of age to inherit, Halid would assume leadership of the Clan. Halid was as familiar a presence in Jashemi’s life as his father, but this was not even for his ears. Jashemi would speak to Tahmu about something much more personal than leadership of the Clan.
Some time later, one of the scouts hurried back. “I have spotted a herd at the base of the mountains.”
“Excellent, Dumah. Send them round.” Tahmu licked a finger and lifted it in the air, testing the wind’s direction. “We will fan out in case they bolt. Halid, circle around to the right. Jashemi, you and I will head south. Hua, hua!”
He kicked the sa’abah and the great beast lurched into action, lowering its head and flattening its ears. Its tail curled over its back, providing shade for both mount and rider. Jashemi followed his father’s lead, kicking his own sa’abah and crouching on its long neck. Tahmu rode well out of hearing range of the others, and then brought his mount to a walk.
“Speak,” said Tahmu. “We have several minutes before the liah are flushed.”
Jashemi opened his mouth. He had been rehearsing this since last night. He would be reasonable, eloquent, calm. He would behave like an adult.
What tumbled from his lips was, “Kevla is your daughter! How could you betray Mother like this?” He clamped his mouth shut, cursing himself.
Strangely, Tahmu did not grow angry. The khashim sighed. “I am sorry you saw her. She ought to have been veiled.”
“That doesn’t matter! Why did you—?”
Tahmu’s head jerked around and he glared at his son. “Did you not notice that Kevla is older than you? I have never betrayed your mother, Jashemi, never!”
“But…she is so little….”
“She is small and thin because she has been raised in poverty as the daughter of a halaan,” said Tahmu, bitterness creeping into the words. “I did not even know of her existence until recently. It was Sahlik who spotted her, dancing on a street corner and crying her mother’s—”
He broke off and looked away, his throat working. “Let me tell you a story. It is the story of a man who was in love with a woman. He wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with her. But he was a khashim, the leader of a great and powerful clan, and she was low-caste. His clan was quarrelsome, and on the verge of tearing itself apart. He needed to marry a high-caste woman, to pacify a powerful section of the clan that was threatening to break away. There was a choice between duty and love, and the man chose duty.”
Jashemi listened intently, barely breathing.
“The man’s heart was broken. He married the woman he was supposed to, and promised himself that she would want for nothing. And she does not. The woman he could not marry disappeared, until one day, the man’s servant spotted a girl-child dancing in the marketplace, a girl-child who looked so much like the khashim that the servant could hardly believe it.
“The khashim realized that his love for the low-caste woman had brought forth a child, an innocent who had done no wrong who should not suffer for what her parents had done. So the khashim convinced the girl’s mother that her daughter would be safe and well cared for all of her days, as a servant in the great House.
“And so it is that Kevla is safe. She has food, a place to sleep, and pleasant, easy duties. I can offer her a good life, and I choose to do so.”
Jashemi was silent, staring at the mountain. He wondered if the Great Dragon could hear this “story.” At last, he said slowly, considering every word, “It would have been wrong of you