On Fire's Wings - Christie Golden [91]
With no weapon save his bare hands, he charged. Kayle, moving easily, readied his massive sword and cut off the man’s head in a single, almost lazy-looking blow.
A horrified murmur rippled through the crowd. A few more sobs broke out.
“Anyone else?” Kayle invited, grinning a little. When no one else stepped forward, he said, “Good. It is not so hard a decision, after all. Now, warriors of the Empire, turn and honor your new standard!”
Numbly, Akana turned with the others and watched as a flag on a pole was brought forward. He stared with listless eyes as the white fabric, easy to see in the moonlight, fluttered in the wind. It looked as though the strange beast, part liah and part dragon, was capering with delight.
Chapter Eighteen
After the meeting, Jashemi wanted nothing more than to return to his tent. He longed to bathe; he knew well the calming properties of cool water lapping at his body. But that was no option here. All he could do was seize some time to himself, and try to reason out the strange, elusive dreams.
He heard a rustle of clothing. Turning, he saw Melaan, and tensed.
“Walk with me,” said Melaan without preamble. They walked together for a while, the sun beating down on their covered heads. Jashemi held his tongue. Melaan had initiated the encounter; Melaan would speak first.
At last, the Second broke the silence. “I watched your face when you saw the creature,” he said.
“We all watched one another’s faces,” Jashemi replied.
“You have seen the standard before.”
“No!” Jashemi whirled on his companion. “I have never seen it—” And then he realized how Melaan had tricked him.
“No,” Melaan said softly. “But you recognized it.”
Jashemi said nothing, then something Raka had said floated back to him. On the defensive with the other man, Jashemi quoted the boy’s words. “‘Be careful with Melaan, Jashemi! His bad dreams sour his temper some days.’”
“My young master has a loose tongue,” Melaan said. “I am fortunate that only you understood what it meant.”
“You have been having strange dreams.”
Melaan nodded. “As, I think, have you.”
Jashemi searched Melaan’s eyes, and then nodded. “Since you were about twelve.” It was a statement, not a question, and again Jashemi nodded. “That’s when they begin. Let me guess what you have been dreaming: of being on a vast expanse of water, with no end in sight, and of a strange Shadow closing in on you. Wiping you out, as easily as this.”
Melaan knelt on the sand and traced a circle with his finger, then with one quick movement erased the image as if it had never been.
“Yes…and no,” Jashemi said. “I do indeed dream of the Shadow approaching. But I am not on a boat; I am on an open area in a great House. Standing next to me is a khashima, who tells me that I must not forget. But I don’t know what it is I’m supposed to remember!”
He slammed a fist into his hand in impotent anger, and yet was keenly aware of relief that he was not the only person who had dreams of the devastating Shadow.
“There are others like us,” said Melaan.
“How do you know? To speak of such things is to condemn yourself as kuli-cursed.”
“But there are hints,” said Melaan. “Hints, like the one you noticed. This is no kuli-curse, Jashemi. This is a warning. Those of us who have these dreams are being given them as a warning to stop the Shadow.”
“I have seen no such Shadow.”
“Not yet,” Melaan admitted. “But we are only now learning of people who live beyond the mountains.”
“You think our dreams and this Emperor are connected?”
“I have seen the ki-lyn in my dreams.”
Jashemi lowered his gaze. “I, too, have seen it. And know its name.”
“I know of other dreamers,” said Melaan. “We must seek them out.”
“We must do more than that,” said Jashemi. He regarded Melaan intently. “We must find a way to unite the clans.”
Melaan snorted. “Compared to that, holding back the Shadow seems like child’s play.”
Holding back the Shadow…there was a way to do that…there were people who