On Fire's Wings - Christie Golden [7]
“After ten years of whoring,” she said slowly, her voice cold as stone and bitter as poison, “Kevla brings me a khashim. And it is you. The Great Dragon does love a jest.”
Tahmu’s throat worked, but he did not answer. He walked slowly toward the halaan and knelt on the cushions beside her. His face was only a few inches from Keishla’s. With a growl like that of a hurt beast, Keishla raised her hand and cracked it across Tahmu’s face.
Tahmu only smiled. “I deserved that,” he said.
Keishla began to cry, softly, and that sound pained him more than the sting of her blow.
“I used to dream of this. That one day, you would come to me. I used to know what I would say, what I would do. But now here you are and I have no words…Why did you do it? I would have crawled across the desert on my hands and knees for you, Tahmu, you know that! And now, look, look at what you have done to me, look how far I have fallen….”
Gently, Tahmu folded her into his strong arms. She clung to him, the soft sobs increasing in force, racking her bony frame. For a long time, they sat thus, then Keishla drew back, wiping at her wet face.
“You should have come to me when you knew,” Tahmu said. His brown hands gripped her upper arms tightly. “I would have taken care of you. I would never have let…” He gestured, at the poor tent, at her indecent clothes. “I would never have let you fall into this.”
Keishla laughed at that, bitterly. “Life as your concubine, living in the shadows, sharing you with…her….” She shook her head. Her beaded locks clattered with the movement. “And you could not have given me what I needed the most—a name for the girl.”
“I had a responsibility to the Clan,” said Tahmu, restating what they both already knew, had argued about so long ago. “Had I been third son, or even second, I might have defied my father, but I couldn’t—not as the only heir. The Clan of Four Waters would have been ripped apart had I left my position for you. But I swear to you, Keishla, I did not know about the girl.”
He hesitated, then claimed his responsibility. “I did not know I had a daughter.”
Chapter Two
The word hung between them. Tahmu coughed, trying to regain his composure.
“There is much we need to discuss. Perhaps something to wet our throats…?”
Keishla looked down, quickly, then nodded. She rose from the pile of pillows with all the grace he remembered.
Silently, he cursed himself for yielding to impulse. He should not have come. Better to have sent Sahlik, who had put this plan into motion. But he’d wanted to see the girl, to make certain. And that first glimpse of little Kevla, with her features a heartbreaking blend of his own strong visage and the more gentle countenance of Keishla, whom he had once loved with all his heart—who could have resisted that?
You could have, Tahmu reprimanded himself. Which female was it, Tahmu—your daughter or your lover that drew you here?
His eyes had now had time to adjust to the dimness after the dazzling light outside, and he realized his first impression of Keishla as dwelling in squalor had been misleading. The tent was roomy enough, and surprisingly well-furnished. The rugs that covered the earth were old, but finely crafted. He reclined on soft, comfortable cushions. He noticed that there was no equipment for such womanly tasks as making butter or bread. Keishla had only herself and the girl to feed, not a large, extended family. But in the corner, there were expensive-looking ewers, bowls, cups, and all the various pieces of equipment for making the bitter, hot drink eusho. Tahmu raised an eyebrow at that. At one point, Keishla must have been doing quite well.
Anger cut through him like a dagger. How many men had she lain with since him? What unspeakable acts had she performed? Did she look upon them with admiration, call them uhlal, cry out with pleasure as they took her for a handful—nay, perhaps only one or two!—copper coins?
As abruptly as it had crested, the anger ebbed, leaving only the ache of regret in its place. Tahmu had loved—still did love, there was no