On Fire's Wings - Christie Golden [6]
“We will eat well tonight and for many nights, my daughter,” said Keishla, stroking Kevla’s braid. She pulled back and began fiddling with her own raven locks, plaited with beads. “Where is my clean rhia? Water, girl, quick!”
A grin on her face, Kevla hastened to obey, helping her mother into the flimsy white rhia reserved for special customers and pouring water into a brass bowl. Keishla laved her face quickly, slapping and pinching her cheeks and biting her lips to redden them. She could not afford the small ceramic jars of paint that more expensive halaans used, but Kevla thought her mother prettier than any artificially decorated woman.
Now Keishla turned to her daughter, spreading her arms. “Well? How do I look?”
Tears pricked Kevla’s eyes. There was a happy warmth in Keishla’s voice, an animation in her movements, that Kevla hadn’t seen in a long time.
“Like a goddess of desire, worthy of the highest uhlal in the land,” she replied, using one of the phrases that was part of her repertoire.
Mockingly, Keishla slapped her with a teasing hand. There was no sting, only a brush of palm on face.
“Silly child. Here, wait…” She hastened to the pillows on the carpeted earth and positioned herself. “Now…now you can show him in.”
Kevla composed her face. When she emerged, she again bowed low.
“Most honored khashim, the beautiful and many-talented Keishla awaits you.”
When she glanced up, veiling her gaze with her lashes, she could not decipher the expression on his face. Kevla had led dozens, perhaps hundreds, of men here. None of them had looked the way Tahmu did at this moment. He did not look shy, or frightened, as the young ones did. But neither did he appear to be excited and full of anticipation. He looked wary, strained, yet hopeful.
Very strange were the khashim indeed.
He slipped off his horse, shaking his head when Kevla reached for the reins. “He will not leave, and no one would dare steal him.”
He reached into a small pouch hanging from his belt and produced a coin.
“Most honored khashim, it is Keishla who should receive your payment.”
“I—I will pay her at the appropriate time. This is for you.”
She stared at the silver coin on his brown palm. Fear of the great man, put aside during the pleasant ride here, now resurfaced. Keishla had told her daughter that some men had certain curious desires. Kevla had always before given her mother privacy with her customers, and truth be told Kevla had no desire to see Keishla at work, but she did not know how to refuse Tahmu.
“Great khashim—it is my mother who—”
Comprehension dawned on the handsome face and his dark brows drew together. Kevla shrank from the expression.
“By the Great Dragon!” Tahmu cried. “Don’t tell me your mother has put you to—child, no, this is to thank you for bringing me here and to ask that you leave us for a time. That is all.”
She smiled in relief, taking the coin and bowing. “Then I thank you, and I shall leave you to your pleasure.”
She turned and strode off to amuse herself elsewhere. She did not look back, but her sharp ears caught the rustle of the blanket as it was lifted and fell back into place. As she walked the circumference of the tent village, Kevla’s mouth began to water as she imagined the delightful food she and Keishla would enjoy together.
Keishla reclined on the cushions with her back to the khashim. Languidly, she stretched, revealing slim curves. Tahmu’s eyes roamed over her body, relishing this moment—this moment when he saw her but she did not see him.
She rolled over, and the lascivious smile of welcome on her face vanished. She bolted upright, her eyes grew enormous, and one thin hand went to her throat. Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out.
Tahmu waited. He would let her speak first. She deserved that much. At last,