On Fire's Wings - Christie Golden [40]
She started when Jashemi and Kevla hurried up to her, but Jashemi dove for the trailing reins. He spoke softly to the creature, patting her neck and sending a small cloud of dust into the air.
“Down, down,” he urged the sa’abah, tugging on the reins. Obediently, she crouched so that Jashemi could reach the saddle and the small bundle tied securely to it. So tightly was the leather pouch bound to the saddle that Jashemi had to use the small knife he always wore to cut it free. He removed the saddle, opened the gate, and let the exhausted sa’abah inside. She headed straight for the trough, lowered her head, and began to drink. The others crowded around her, reaching to touch her with their small, stubby arms, as if they understood that she had been through a terrible ordeal.
Although she had lived at the House for some time now, Kevla still found the sa’abahs fascinating, and watched them as Jashemi fumbled through the sack. She heard a rustling, then silence, then a deep sigh.
She turned around just in time to catch him wiping his eyes with his sleeve. Her heart ached in sympathy. Without thinking she touched his arm gently.
Jashemi jerked away, and immediately Kevla dropped to her knees. Again, she had assumed too much.
“Forgive me, young lord! I transgressed, I did not mean—”
A gentle hand on her shoulder urged her to rise. “It’s all right,” he assured her. “I just….”
“What does the letter say?”
His face crumpled and he looked down. “My uncle and all of my male cousins are dead. Slaughtered while they slept off the wine they had drunk in celebration of Kur.”
Kevla listened, remaining silent.
Jashemi cleared his throat and continued in a more normal tone of voice. “The women were…were assaulted and then taken. Probably they are five-scores now. My cousin Sammis was sent by my uncle to summon help.” He looked at her now, and she did not like the expression on his face. “The first thing the raiders did was burn the aerie, so that no warning hawks could be sent out to gather reinforcements. The Sa’abah Clan has probably taken what they want and are long gone.”
“The Sa’abah Clan?” Kevla repeated, incredulous. She looked over at the milling creatures. They seemed gentle, intelligent. They had welcomed a stranger.
“It is ironic that the people who breed the most peaceful of animals are the ones most thirsty for blood,” said Jashemi, bitterly. He looked down at the parchment in his hand. Kevla followed his gaze and saw that he had crumpled the missive.
Jashemi composed himself. “We will attack in retaliation. Father will want to see this. Return to the House, Kevla. My mother will be distraught to hear of the death of her brother.”
Without another word he turned and trudged slowly back toward the healer’s hut. Kevla wanted to follow. She had no desire to be in Yeshi’s company when the khashima received such dreadful news.
For the third time in the span of a few months, the House of Four Waters was thrown into a flurry of activity. This time, though, the preparations were not for a welcome-home feast, or the wild celebration of a favorite holiday, but for battle.
Kevla continued her lessons in healing. Maluuk explained that he would be going with the warriors, as his skills would be needed to treat the injured.
“And there will be,” he said, seeming suddenly very old. “There are always injured. Too many, even in a victory.”
Asha would stay behind, to assume his master’s position. Kevla would become his apprentice, assisting him in treating the household and preparing bandages, salves, ointments, and tinctures. Although it was uncommon for a woman to be placed in such an important position as apprentice healer, the usual niceties could not be observed. Asha seemed happy enough to take on the role of a full healer, and apparently didn’t object to Kevla’s gender.