On Fire's Wings - Christie Golden [38]
One day, after she had sent Tiah and Ranna away for her nap, Yeshi called for Kevla. “You sent for me, great lady?”
Yeshi looked wonderful. She had been much happier since Jashemi had come home, and Kevla had observed that mother and son spent much time together and enjoyed one another’s company. Yeshi, as Sahlik had said, had become more involved in the running of the household, and seemed to have less need of her usual self-indulgent pleasures.
Yeshi smiled as she reclined on the bed—a true, genuine smile that made her look radiant. “Yes, Kevla. Sahlik tells me that you have been studying under Maluuk. Is this so?”
For a moment, Kevla panicked. But Yeshi didn’t look upset, and she knew it would be unwise to lie.
“Yes, great lady.”
“That is good news to me.” She patted the bed beside her, and Kevla, growing more and more confused, obediently climbed up to sit beside her mistress.
Gently, Yeshi took Kevla’s hand and placed it on her belly, below her navel. “I am pleased, because I would like you to assist Maluuk in delivering my baby.”
Kevla’s jaw dropped. “Your baby?”
Yeshi grinned and nodded her head excitedly. “You are my good luck charm, little Kevla. My personal blessing from the Great Dragon. After ten years I have been able to conceive!”
Kevla’s eyes filled with tears. Gently, she spread her fingers on Yeshi’s belly and said, “Blessings on this baby. And blessings on the House of Four Waters!”
It was two days after the festival of Kur, and Kevla and Jashemi were engaged in a particularly delightful game of Shamizan. As they were younger than most of the household, they had not celebrated Kur with as much vigor as the adults had.
Kevla was familiar with the wild nature of the celebratory festival. It was the one time a year when the people believed the Great Dragon turned a blind eye to indulgent pleasures. Keishla had always had more business than she could handle during the three-day celebration. The people of Arukan drank to excess, ate to excess, and did many other things to excess during Kur. There was a great feast and much flowing wine at the House of Four Waters, but compared to what Kevla was used to encountering with Keishla and her customers, it seemed rather staid to her. The next few days were astoundingly quiet, as most of the household seemed averse to noise, light or rich foods.
“Ha!” cried Jashemi triumphantly as he picked up no fewer than eight of Kevla’s red pieces. “You only have six markers left, and I have over a dozen!”
They both started when they heard the unmistakable sound of the shakaal. Their gazes locked.
“What—” Kevla began.
The transformation in Jashemi was startling to her. In a heartbeat, he had gone from a playful, mischievous youth gloating over a board game victory to the stone-faced khashimu of the Clan of Four Waters.
“I’ll find out. Stay here. Say nothing of our being together.”
His robes rustling softly, he rose and hastened out the door. When Jashemi did not return immediately, Kevla occupied herself by finishing the ointment Maluuk had requested she make. Her ears strained for any sound.
The door banged open. Maluuk and his apprentice rushed in. Clinging to them, an arm slung around each of their shoulders, was a rider close to collapse. His face was pale with sand, and there were dark red patches on his white rhia.
“Kevla, water,” snapped Maluuk. He made straight for the long table. With a swift motion he sent the board and the pieces clattering to the floor and lay the stranger down on the table’s cool surface.
Kevla poured a cup of water and brought it to the healer. Maluuk lifted the man’s head up and dribbled some of the precious liquid onto lips so dry they cracked and bled. A swollen tongue crept out and caught a few drops, then the man began to drink eagerly.
“Gently,