KADAR WAS WASHING the dust off his face and arms in a large basin filled with water in his new room above the kitchen when he heard a loud rumble of shouting downstairs. He didn’t bother to grab his tunic as he sprinted out of his room, certain this must be about Sulis.
“How could you let a daughter of the desert do such a stupid thing?” Kadar heard a young man shout as he ran down the stairs. The speaker had his back to Kadar, facing his two uncles and his aunt, Raella, who had a shawl wrapped around her long night robe. Uncle Tarik’s face was expressionless, but Uncle Aaron’s face was pinched, as though he’d just learned of a death in the family. Uncle Aaron’s pain made Kadar speak up.
“What makes you think we could stop her?” he asked quietly.
The young man turned to face Kadar. He noticed the man’s Frubian good looks though they were folded into a deep scowl right now. He smiled, wondering how his sister had managed to leave the poor man smitten in such a short time.
The other man hesitated a moment, then smiled in return. “You are Kadar,” he announced. “You look like her. I am Ashraf. You are right. Even I could not talk her out of it.”
Kadar managed not to roll his eyes at that. This Ashraf was more than a match for Sulis in arrogance, thinking he could convince Sulis when her family could not.
Uncle Tarik cleared his throat. “Ashraf has told us he saw Sulis go into the Temple of the One and come out with a feli at her side.”
“Is this true?” Kadar asked Ashraf, who nodded. “How did she look? Was she happy?”
Ashraf paused a moment, frowning. “She looked defiant,” he admitted. “I was harsh with her, calling her a fool. It might have been the wrong thing to say.”
Uncle Aaron snorted. “There was no right thing to say, boy,” he told Ashraf. “She is as stubborn as the feli she paired with. The Temple has stolen another of my kin.”
Kadar was moved by his uncle’s pain. He brushed past Ashraf and gripped Uncle Aaron’s arm at the elbow.
“She’ll come out all right, Uncle,” he assured him. “You know Sulis: give her a bucket of sand, and she’ll create a castle. The Temple is no match for her when she is determined.”
Uncle Aaron returned the grip but shook his head.
“I knew your mother,” he said. “I would have thought her a match for anything. If this is anything like what her mother went through, Sulis is going against deities. Only the One is a match for them.”
“I have friends among the Forsaken. There is a rumor,” Ashraf said into the silence, “that when Sulis was paired, all the feli of the acolytes of the One came rushing to their partners. It is said that she is marked as a favorite of his.” Though the One was neither male nor female, Ashraf used the tradition of describing the One in his own gender.
“Which will make her a target for those who oppose him,” Uncle Aaron said bitterly. He turned away from Kadar and stared broodingly out the window at the darkened sky.
A brown-cloaked figure appeared in the kitchen doorway.
“Would your visitor like tea?” Farah asked politely. Then her eye fell on Ashraf, and she beamed.
“Ashraf,” she exclaimed, rushing over to him. “What brings you here?”
Kadar swallowed his envy as Ashraf took her hands in his and kissed her on the cheek.
“I have bought your cousin’s freedom,” he told her. “I am here to see about combining efforts with the Hasifel hall and sharing the riches of a combined Hasifel and Nasirof venture.”
Uncle Aaron turned away from the window at that, and Uncle Tarik and Kadar exchanged glances. Nasirof silks had the finest weave, with brilliant purples and reds other dyers could not produce. There’d been rumors that expansion of the demesne had left a glut of the fine weave, but the Nasirof family had never exported—or even spoken of exporting—it. If Ashraf could speak of such a venture, it meant he was high in the family, possibly the heir to the demesne.
Ashraf smiled around at them, almost sheepishly. “Yes, I did have another purpose for coming here other than yelling about your clanswoman. I just cannot think of anything else since meeting her.” He shook his head.
“She has that effect on people,” Aunt Raella put in dryly, from the corner where she’d been observing. “It is, however, a little late for business. I would suggest a daytime meeting when things can be discussed a little more rationally.”
Ashraf smiled charmingly. “Ah, women are always the sensible ones. I will take the mistress’s advice. Would you send a representative over to the Desert Sun Inn tomorrow, perhaps before midmeal?”
Uncle Tarik nodded. “Kadar will represent the family. He knows our capabilities and has the authority to make such decisions.”
It was the first time his uncles had publicly named him heir, and Kadar stood proudly. He knew the elders would rewrite the details of whatever the two younger men agreed upon, but the responsibility fell upon his shoulders fully for the first time. He wished his sister were beside him to share the burden.
Ashraf studied him a moment, smiling.
“We have much to talk about,” he told Kadar, who knew he meant more than just a venture between the families. “Perhaps Farrah can show you the inn, so she can also say good-bye to her kinsman.”
“Great idea,” Kadar blurted out, and blushed as he was rewarded with one of her smiles. “I’m not certain of my way around Illian yet,” he added as an explanation to his uncles.
“I will look forward to seeing you then,” Ashraf said. He bowed and let himself out the front door.
Uncle Tarik shook his head, looking after him. “Sulis certainly knows how to pick them,” he said with a laugh. “Only she could make a rich Southerner heir fall in love with her on her way to the Temple—and then dump him for the One.”
“I think Sulis may need as many allies as she can muster,” Aunt Raella said. “It certainly saved her mother, being a friend to all.”
“The first time,” Uncle Aaron replied bitterly. “In the end, no one could save her from her own stubbornness.”
Aunt Raella rolled her eyes. “There is a purpose in life beyond just keeping safe, Aaron. Iamar knew that, and so does Sulis. You cannot chain a wild feli,” she said, then yawned. “I for one am going to bed, and I suggest you boys stop fretting and do the same.”
Kadar returned to his room and lay down on his cot. Sleep was slow in coming, and when it did, he dreamed of Temple walls disappearing into the blue of Farrah’s eyes.
MORNING DAWNED, AND Kadar received last-minute orders from his aunt and uncles. They seemed to wish they could go in Kadar’s stead, but tradition said that heirs had to meet with heirs. Kadar finally threw up his hands in laughing protest.
“I won’t sign away our hall,” he said. “Trust me, anything I’m uncertain about I will bring to you first. And nothing is final without your signatures, so what are you worried about?”
Uncle Aaron exchanged a glance with Uncle Tarik. “We need to make a good impression,” he said. “A partnership between our two families would be powerful, beyond just business. We are the two largest clans in the South. If this Ashraf has orders to approach us on business, it could be that the Nasirof clan is feeling us out for something larger.”
Uncle Tarik nodded. “This is bigger than just trading. Some of us feel it would be better to form a stronger alliance among the clans, just in case the Temple decides the South is too tasty not to finally take a bite of. We broke from the deities during the Great War, and our faith proved to the One we did not need the deities. But the Temple wants to expand its followers, to convert us back to the religion of the four.”
“But the One wouldn’t allow that,” Kadar protested.
“The One doesn’t involve herself in our daily lives,” Aunt Raella reminded him. “There have been wars between humans before, up north. We can’t expect the One to fight our battles for us; we need to prove to her our determination and faith.”
She paused, then smiled at the look of uncertainty on Kadar’s face. “We aren’t asking you to stop a war, Kadar. We just think you need to be aware of what is really at stake. See what the Nasirofs want. Make friends with Ashraf if you can.”
Kadar nodded. Uncle Tarik disappeared into the salesroom and came back with Farrah, who was carrying a package wrapped in coarse, brown cloth.
“Drop this off at the Farid merchant stall on your way. Lina’s been doing a lot of promotion for us, and I want her to have the best of these silks,” Uncle Tarik said.
Kadar reached for the package, and both Farrah and Uncle Tarik shook their heads.
“I’ve got it,” Farrah said firmly.
“Let her carry it. It gives her a reason to be with you. No respectable Illian man would be traveling with a Forsaken woman if she were not there to serve him. She’ll walk a couple of paces behind you.”
Kadar grimaced, disgusted with the stupidity of the Illian customs. “Then how will she show me where the inn is? And how does it make me respectable to treat her with disrespect?”
“I can whisper which way to turn,” Farrah said with a smile. “Unless, of course, you have the ears of an old man.”
Kadar smiled back at her. “I can hear quite well, thank you,” he said, holding her gaze until she blushed and turned away. It seemed she wasn’t as indifferent to him as she pretended.
Kadar sped through the marketplace, intent on getting his errand done so he could meet with Ashraf. At Farrah’s hiss of “Slow down, you idiot!” he slowed so abruptly she almost ran into him. She managed to get a foot on the heel of one sandal, pulling it off and tripping him. He blushed at his clumsiness.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, master,” she said innocently, helping him put it back on, but with a wicked gleam in her eyes. Her hair shone like golden sand in the sunlight, and he admired the oasis blue of her eyes.
Bystanders were staring, so Kadar set a slower pace and led docilely until she directed him to a small stall to one side of the busy main road. He took the package from Farrah, and she stood over to one side of the road, away from the crowds, to wait for him.
“I am looking for Mistress Lina,” Kadar told the girl behind the counter. She looked up from the ledger she was tallying and smiled.
“Ma!” she called. “A Hasifel’s here to see you.”
At his surprised look, the girl laughed. “You’ve got the Hasifel nose,” she told him.
“Eshe, do you have the inventory done?” The girl’s mother stepped out from a curtained room.
“Yes, Ma,” the girl responded.
“Then go draw water for midmeal and remember how we address our elders,” Lina reproved.
The girl made a face at Kadar and hurried to the back room. He held back a laugh, remembering when he was her age, a few short years ago.
“I am sorry about my daughter,” Lina told him, a fond smile on her face. “She is still learning that the world does not revolve around her.”
“We are clan,” he said. “We don’t need titles. Besides, in a few years, all the young men will revolve around her.”
“That is what I am afraid of,” Lina groaned. “And she will be just as vain as I was and give me the gray hairs I gave my own mother.”
Kadar held the package out toward her, and she took it eagerly.
“My uncle, Tarik, sent this to thank you,” he said.
“Then you must be Kadar,” Lina said, pulling off the paper protecting the silks. “Your aunt told me you and your sister would be coming to stay with her for a while. Oh my—these are lovely.” Her face was blissful as she buried her fingers in the soft luxury of the silk.
Kadar had to agree as she spread out the silks, a crimson so deep it looked almost black and an amber that complemented it perfectly. They would look magnificent against the older woman’s skin.
“Our best Frubian export,” he told her. This was his favorite part of being a merchant: seeing the way the silk caught the buyers, finding what suited them personally. “Though I have heard there will soon be finer silks in our merchant hall,” he said, unable to resist seeing how fast gossip traveled in Illian.
Her gaze sharpened. “Nasirof?” she asked.
He shrugged, teasing.
“I heard the heir of Nasirof visited the Hasifel hall last night,” she said, and Kadar smiled, amazed at the pace at which gossip ran through the clans. “A joining of Hasifel and Nasirof would be a great thing indeed,” she said, looking up at him as though trying to read his face. He kept his expression to a bland smile.
“An interesting thought,” he commented politely, and she laughed and punched him in the shoulder.
“Ah, Aaron has taught you too well,” she exclaimed.
Then her expression became serious, and she let out a low oath as she stared out the door, around his shoulder.
Kadar turned and saw three gentlemen surrounding Farrah. They were dressed in breeches and silk shirts, and one had an elaborate feathered hat that made him look like a fop. The man with the hat ran his hand through her golden hair as the others held her by the waist and shoulders. She was struggling to pull away.
Kadar was out the door in two strides, ignoring Lina as she tried to call him back.
The feathered one had his back to Kadar. As Kadar approached, he heard him say, “Just name your price. I’ll buy you a necklace if you spend the rest of the afternoon with me. Maybe a dress and some gold, if you spend the night.” He moved his hand from her hair to her face, drawing a finger down her neck.
Kadar grabbed the back of the man’s shirt, sending his hat into the dirt. He shoved the man to the side as the two others came at Kadar, swinging their fists. A kick in the gut downed one. Kadar’s right fist sent the other bleeding into the dust, holding a broken nose. He turned back to the first man, who was studying Kadar. Kadar stared back, his blood still hot. The man was of slight build, obviously used to a light weapon rather than fists—or maybe his lackeys always fought for him.
“You will keep your hands off my abda,” Kadar told the man, straightening to his full height and standing between Farrah and her assailant. He could hurt this man easily, he realized. But the quality of the man’s silk meant he was someone wealthy, and in the city, that meant someone of importance. Kadar hoped the man would have the sense to back down from a fight he could not win.
The man seemed to realize that Kadar was a match for him. He stepped back, studying robes of a much finer weave than his shirt. He bent down and picked up his hat, brushing it off. The feathers were bent and forlorn, but he placed it back on his head with wounded dignity.
“My apologies,” he told Kadar stiffly. “I did not realize she belonged to someone.”
Kadar nodded. “She belongs to me,” he said, uncomfortable with the thought of Farrah belonging to anyone but herself.
“And you are?” the stranger asked, lifting an eyebrow. His friends came to stand behind him, looking angry and slightly afraid.
“Hasifel,” Kadar answered, giving only his clan, an insult most city men would not catch.
This one did, and both eyebrows lifted.
“So the heir of Hasifel has come to roost in Illian,” he commented. “I am Severin.” He held out his hand, and Kadar simply stared at it, pretending he didn’t know the mainlander custom.
Severin wiped the hand on his breeches. “You’re obviously new,” he commented. “You may need friends to help you adjust to the city.” His welcoming words were slightly threatening.
“I already have many friends,” Kadar said firmly.
“And does your sister have many friends also?” Severin asked, a slight smile on his lips. “It seems she must be very alone right now.”
Kadar tried not to show his shock that this stranger not only knew of Sulis but also knew that she’d pledged. The satisfaction Kadar saw in the other man’s eyes showed he had not hid his feelings well.
“She has a much greater friend than I do,” he said, and Severin’s eyes widened as he caught the reference to the One.
“Interesting,” he said. “We will see each other again, Hasifel,” he told Kadar. His eyes slid past Kadar to Farrah. “And I hope to see you again also,” he told her. “You know where to find me.”
He gave a short bow and walked down the street, his head held high, before Kadar could reach out and throttle him. His friends followed, trailing him like vassals of a prince.
“Are you okay?” Kadar asked, turning to Farrah.
“You are a fool,” she hissed at him, glancing at the merchants, who’d come out of their halls to watch the spectacle. A few were conferring and shaking their heads, and Kadar had a sinking feeling his uncles would know about this before he returned to the hall.
“Let’s get on to the inn,” he muttered, giving a half wave to Lina, who was gesturing for him to come back inside.
“Yes,” she shot back. “Before you get us both run out of town.”
He had just enough time to worry about who Severin might be before he reached the inn. It was obviously a more exclusive place than the ones he, Sulis, and Uncle Aaron had stayed at while traveling. The keeper escorted him to Ashraf’s suite, which had both a sleeping room and a room for business.
A small boy in brown robes dashed out as he and Farrah walked in, and Ashraf smiled broadly, clasping Kadar on the shoulder.
“In town one day, and you’ve already tangled with the viceroy’s son,” he said with a laugh, greeting Kadar in desert tongue. “I think we will get along magnificently.”
Kadar felt as though he’d swallowed a rock. The viceroy was handpicked by the Temple to be the ruler of Illian and answered only to the Voices of the Deities and the Counselor. Uncle Aaron was not going to be happy.
“Kadar’s an idiot,” Farrah said, also in passable desert, to Kadar’s surprise.
“This happened less than a sandglass ago,” Kadar sputtered. “How did you find out so fast?”
Ashraf gestured to the door the boy had disappeared through. “I have watchers everywhere, as do most of the wealthy in the city. If all goes well today, my watchers will be yours when I am not in town. You will learn very quickly that everyone knows everything in Illian. It is the ones who can actually keep their secrets who are dangerous.”
He pulled a chair around and sat with his chin resting on the back. “Now tell me everything. I didn’t get all the details.”
“Kadar blundered around like a bear in mating season,” Farrah said bitterly, sitting down. She wrapped her arms around herself, glowering at the floor.
“Are you are well?” Ashraf asked her, concerned.
“I’m fine,” she said firmly.
“Except she was propositioned in the streets of the marketplace like a common whore!” Kadar said, pacing. “And they weren’t going to let her say no.”
“Silly Southerner, don’t you realize he was making a good offer, for a Forsaken woman?” Ashraf said sarcastically. “An offer from the viceroy’s son would give her a soft bed for the night and a little money for food. She should have been thrilled by the honor.”
“Hey,” Kadar protested, surprised by the bitterness in the other man’s tone. “Don’t they have laws protecting women here?”
Ashraf shook his finger at Kadar. “That’s your mistake: considering a Forsaken to be human. In Illian, all Forsaken are faceless, nameless drudges without rights or protection.”
Farrah wiped a hand across her eyes. “I just wanted to knee that repulsive dung rat,” she said angrily. “He could have killed me, and no one would have done anything.”
Ashraf offered her a flask, which she refused. He shrugged and poured himself a glass.
“I did!” Kadar protested, feeling a little irritated that she’d insulted him for helping her.
“By calling me your mistress!” she shot back. “I’m not anyone’s abda, or whatever you called me, and I don’t belong to anyone.”
Ashraf sputtered on his drink as Kadar blushed. “Abda? He called you his abda?” he gasped, choking on laughter.
“It was the only thing I could think of,” Kadar protested.
“Yes, but I think you’re a little old for a wet nurse,” Ashraf chortled.
Farrah stared at the two of them, then her mouth turned up in a small smile. “You said I was your wet nurse?” she asked incredulously.
“We don’t have a word for a mistress,” Kadar said. “And I figured he wouldn’t know much of our language.”
He was relieved to see the anger recede from her eyes. He sat across from Ashraf and described the entire incident, with Farrah putting in comments from time to time.
Ashraf nodded when he was done and was quiet a moment, thinking with his hands folded.
“I do not like Severin’s interest in your sister,” he said. “But she seemed well able to defend herself, unlike Farrah, who is not permitted to.”
“Sulis is very good with knives,” Kadar said. “And any feli within a mile of her would run to her rescue.”
“I will ask the Forsaken to watch out for Sulis. That is probably the best we can do for her. You told him very little about yourself. That’s good, I think. It will keep him interested but not overconfident,” Ashraf commented. “It’s also good you’ve put Farrah under your protection. It will make others think twice before harming her though it could put her in more danger if Severin decides you are his enemy.”
“I don’t need his protection,” Farrah protested.
“No, but if they think you are Kadar’s mistress, they will not think anything of you two being alone together quite a bit. And since Kadar will be my contact while I’m away, and you are organizing the Forsaken, you will need those private times.”
Farrah grimaced in distaste but did not protest further.
“No one who knows you will believe you are his mistress, so anyone who does believe it is not worth your time,” Ashraf assured her.
“What do you mean, organizing the Forsaken?” Kadar asked. “I thought we were here to discuss a trade agreement.”
Ashraf waved that away. “Yes, yes—of course. We have excess silk, and you have excellent halls to sell them in. The benefits for all are so obvious that we need not discuss them. And our elders certainly will change everything we would agree on, so we don’t need to spend much time on details. Indeed, your aunt and uncles are probably drafting an agreement while we speak. The most important thing is the alliance between our two houses. I’m assuming that your uncles agree we need to stand together?”
Kadar nodded. “They’ve told me so,” he said. The conversation was not going as he’d imagined earlier in the day. He’d thought they’d still be dancing around the question of whether the Nasirof house wanted to export with Hasifel, then they’d carefully feel each other out for larger things. Instead, Ashraf was alluding to alliances and movements.
“Good,” Ashraf said, and exchanged a glance with Farrah. She nodded, and he continued. “Now, what I am going to say, your uncles might not approve of. And I would rather you not involve them at this point. If they are as smart as I think, they know a conflict is coming, but I don’t know how they will feel about what I am about to tell you.”
“Go on,” Kadar said neutrally, curious.
“I have been convinced for some time that we are in great danger from the Temple,” Ashraf said. “They have a large, well-organized, well-trained force of soldiers, and the Northern Territory’s population is greater than ours.”
“Recently, the Temple’s been stealing halls and land from good, law-abiding people and declaring them Forsaken,” Farrah said bitterly. “It purposefully sets a high tax we can’t meet and calls us heretics and criminals, so it can steal our lands and profits. Then it recruits our young men into its armies with promises of better treatment and regaining their honor.”
“My family believes the Temple needs money for a war; that’s why it is dispossessing so many landed merchants,” Ashraf said. “There’s only one place it could attack that would make it worth the expense and risk of the people’s rising up against what it is doing.”
Kadar thought about it. “The Southern Territory,” he said.
Ashraf nodded. “The desert is the one place over which the deities have no control, and the only way to get to the rain forests on the coast is through the desert. Those routes are controlled by merchants like your family. Just gaining control over our people and the riches of the South could give more power to the deities.”
“Why don’t people protest?” Kadar asked.
“Voras and Ivanha are smart,” Farrah said. “We can’t meet without suspicion, we can’t own weapons, and we can’t travel and organize because they keep tabs on us. We want to be free again.” She slapped her hand on the table for emphasis. “We owned farms and halls and homes, and they’ve taken those away and thrown us in the gutter like trash. We want what they’ve stolen from us.”
“I’ve convinced some of my clan that the Forsaken are the key to keeping the Temple out,” Ashraf said. “If we help them organize, and we use our wealth and resources to store weapons, they will fight for us.”
Kadar picked his words carefully. “So you are getting the Forsaken together, arming them, finding homes for them. What then? And what do you need me for?”
“We will leave Illian, head to the desert,” Farrah said.
Kadar gaped at her. “But there are thousands of Forsaken,” he protested. “The Desert clans buy much of our food and drill deeply to get what little water we can. We don’t have the resources to take in that many people.”
“On the southern tip we do,” Ashraf said. “At Kabandha.”
“Kabandha?” Kadar asked. “The haunted city? No one has tried to settle there for generations. There is said to be a malevolent spirit that chases off anyone who tries.”
“Two of my watchers traveled there and said it was in good condition. The stone houses needed new roofs, and the wells would need to be redug. But they felt no evil spirit. The Forsaken won’t be scared away by our silly superstitions.”
“It would take months for that many to travel so far,” Kadar told him. “The only time it would even be possible is in the winter, and they would freeze in the cold nights and roast in the midday sun. It would be suicide for the elderly and the children.”
“We’re willing to risk it for our freedom,” Farrah said. “We know the dangers.”
Kadar wondered what he would do if his uncles were stripped of their halls. What if his family was treated like refuse, and his sister was assaulted? He hoped he would be as willing to risk everything for his family.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked.
Farrah smiled brilliantly, and Ashraf beamed.
“I knew that if you were anything like your twin, you’d be willing to help,” he said.
KADAR FELT OLDER somehow after he and Farrah left the hotel. He’d had responsibilities for as long as he could remember: caring for the horses and mules, helping to take care of the wares, and packing the caravan. All of these were put on his shoulders when he began his apprenticeship with Uncle Aaron at age fourteen. But the weight he felt now was more cumbersome. It was one thing to declare to himself and his family that he was for the rights of the Forsaken and to treat them well in the small circle of the merchant hall. But to take that extra step—taking action against people who hated what he believed so much that they would possibly kill him for it—was unnerving.
He was terrified; he had to admit that to himself. It was like the time he’d been climbing in the mountains, jumping rocks, and stopped just inches from a sheer drop he hadn’t realized was there. He’d stood there a moment with his heart pounding, realizing how close he’d come to going over the edge.
This time he was jumping off the cliff, Kadar realized. Intermingled with the fear was excitement. What Ashraf said made sense: the Forsaken were the key. If the Temple planned on going to war against the tribes, Kadar’s knowledge of the desert would do much to help the Forsaken flee. Their numbers would bolster the desert men against the Temple’s larger forces. It was time to do as Sulis had and act.
His uncles were waiting for him in the dining area when they arrived back at the house.
“I thought I told you to stay out of trouble,” Uncle Aaron told him, his face stern.
Kadar was startled a moment, wondering how he could know about his and Ashraf’s plans. Ashraf had said not to tell them the plans for the Forsaken, just to say the families wanted an alliance. Farrah passed him, nudging him sharply, and he remembered the fight.
He opened his mouth to explain, but then closed it, trying to think of some way he could make it look like a good thing to have dumped the viceroy’s son in the dirt. He couldn’t, so he just shrugged and tried to look innocent.
Uncle Tarik chuckled and smacked Uncle Aaron in the shoulder. “He’s as bad as the two of us were, eh?”
Uncle Aaron grinned, obviously amused by Kadar’s loss of words. “If you had to pick a fight the first day you were in town, why’d you have to pick the viceroy’s son?” he asked.
“I didn’t know who he was!” Kadar told them. “It wasn’t my choice.”
“No, I don’t imagine it was; although even some of our own people might say you should have left Farrah to Severin,” Uncle Tarik reassured him. “We know better. Severin’s been getting cocky.”
“And you clipped his feathers without hurting anything but his pride,” Uncle Aaron said. “I’m impressed.”
“I’ll be more impressed if he has a contract for us to negotiate,” Uncle Aaron said, eyeing Kadar’s empty hands.
“Ashraf said it was worthless for us to write a contract when you and his elders would just rewrite it to your terms anyway,” Kadar said. “The clan of Nasirof wishes to contract with the clan of Hasifel for transportation and sales of the Nasirof silks at the standard rate plus 5 percent for good faith. We shook on it, and the innkeeper witnessed the transaction.”
Uncle Tarik let out a tribal whoop, and when Aunt Raella and the younger cousins appeared, danced his wife around the table as she laughed.
“I assume we got the contract?” she said, throwing herself breathlessly into a chair. When they nodded, she said, “Excellent! I was just dusting off our official documents to get the wording. Once you give me the details, we can send it off with Ashraf.”
“If you weren’t negotiating, what took you so long?” Uncle Aaron asked.
Kadar shrugged. “Ashraf assumed from the beginning we would have an alliance. We spent the time getting to know each other, as you said we should.”
“I see,” Uncle Aaron said, nodding.
“We do have a lot in common,” Kadar added.
“I’m glad,” Uncle Aaron said. “We’ll need friendships and alliances to get us through what I am afraid will come.”
Uncle Tarik stopped spinning his boys around and interrupted them, coming over to clasp both on the shoulder. “I think this is cause for a celebration,” he declared.
“You think everything is cause for a celebration,” Uncle Aaron said with a laugh. “But I agree. Simon, Rashal,” he said, calling two of Kadar’s cousins over. “Gather your brothers. Farrah, send for your sister; she can help prepare the festivities. Let the clans in town know we are holding a celebration tonight. Wine and ale are on us!”
Kadar knew word would spread quickly through the tight-knit community. Soon, neighbors and friends would be arriving with today’s dinner they’d cooked and put in a crock to share with all. There would be an amazing variety of food spread on the long table, with a pie someone just happened to have and a flaky pastry someone had been saving, and the clans would spend the night eating, drinking, and celebrating the alliance of the Hasifels and Nasirofs.
Farrah’s younger sister Ava arrived before the other clans began showing up. She was fairer even than Farrah, her blue eyes alight as she helped Farrah and Raella set up tables for the potluck.
“I brought the bread from the baker, like Miz Raella asked; he gave me one of his leftover sweet rolls, and it was so good. Mother said to tell you to stop at the butcher next restday before you come, and I’m not to chatter too much.” Ava paused as she smoothed an embroidered cloth over the rough wood. “I don’t think I chatter too much, do you? Did you see those drawing pencils set out on the kitchen counter? Did they come in with the last caravan?”
Aunt Raella laughed as she placed a dish on the table. “Yes, Aaron found them and a sheaf of drawing paper up north and brought them for the sales hall.”
“They probably cost a lot, being from the North and all,” Ava said, reaching for some dishes. “They’d be really easy to use, though. Way easier than burning charcoal. Is Mister Tarik going to sell them to the art school?”
“I don’t think Tarik has any idea where to sell them.” Aunt Raella said, grinning. “You might be able to bargain with Tarik for them, just to get them off his hands. Don’t you think, Kadar?”
Aunt Raella tried to bring Kadar into the conversation, but he just shrugged.
Kadar couldn’t quite get in the mood for the celebration. He escaped the bustle of the family trying to prepare the house for so many people coming and went to the cool dimness of the stables.
He was beginning to curry one of Uncle Aaron’s horses when he heard someone’s soft footsteps behind him.
He whipped around, startling the mare.
“Sorry,” Farrah said. “I didn’t mean to creep up on you.”
“It’s okay,” he said, calming the mare with a hand on her neck. “Just a little uneasy after today. I’m worried about Severin—that he mentioned my sister.”
“Because of the incident in the marketplace?” she asked.
“Yes, a little. I don’t like that he treated you that way, then asked if Sulis had friends to protect her. I’d like to find a way of getting to Sulis, to let her know she might be in danger from him. The Temple can’t know we’re in touch.”
“You really care about her, don’t you?” Farrah asked, cocking her head to one side.
He nodded. “We’ve always been together. When I had something to say, she was always there to listen. When there was work, she was the extra set of hands. Being separated is irritating, as though I’m missing something I never knew I needed.”
“I always wanted to be a twin,” Farrah said wistfully. “Ava is six years younger than I am, so I’m more like a second mother to her than a sister. And she’s the oldest. I’ve also got two little brothers and a toddler sister, born just after Father was killed.”
“Sulis would like you,” Kadar said.
“I’d like to get to know her,” Farrah said with a smile. “You know, if you need to get a message to her, you can dress like a Forsaken and go shopping with me. Wear gloves and put a hood over your head as though you have the decaying disease. People never look very closely at us.”
Kadar smiled, thinking about it. “Yes, that might work,” he said excitedly. “I could get her a message, figure out a place to meet. You’re brilliant, Farrah.”
She blushed at the praise. “Just so long as you don’t get caught. It’s forbidden, dressing like a Forsaken if you’re not one.”
He moved a little closer to her, drawn in by the blush on her cheeks and wondering if she felt the same attraction to him. She stepped away quickly and turned to leave.
“Oh!” she said, turning back. Her cheeks were still pink, and she seemed a bit flustered. “Your aunt sent me out to fetch you. She wants you to help carry kegs from the basement for your uncles. She’s afraid they’ll throw their backs out competing to see how much they can carry.”
Kadar grinned and followed her inside with a lighter heart. Tonight was a celebration; tomorrow his work would really begin.
He snagged a dance with Ava, who giggled as he spun her around the courtyard, showing her the quick steps of the set.
“Are you and Farrah a couple?” she asked impudently, slightly out of breath as they stepped to the side to let others pass.
Kadar blushed. “Um . . .” he stuttered, not knowing how to answer. “We’ve really just met.”
“Well, I think she likes you. You’re all she talked about when she came home yesterday. Do you like her?”
Kadar was saved from answering by Simon’s swooping in to spin Ava back out into the crowd of dancers. He glanced over to where Farrah was serving and found her watching him. He was rewarded with a brilliant smile, and when he made his way to bed hours later, he fell asleep with a smile on his own face.
FARRAH FOUND A robe for him a couple of weeks after their talk. She’d had to look hard for a robe suitable for his taller frame. It was patchy enough that he’d blend into almost any crowd of beggars, especially if he hunched a bit to disguise his height.
He hid the cloak in his bags. He begged his aunt and uncle to send him on errands over the next few weeks, supposedly to help him get used to the city, with its many circling streets and tiny alleys. He divided his time between exploring the different regions of the city and learning to sell in the hall and tally taxes. He didn’t think his aunt and uncle would like his violating city laws by dressing as a Forsaken, so he didn’t mention contacting his sister. By walking the streets and visiting the Temple, he learned that there were two main roads—one east-to-west and the other north-to-south. The Hasifel merchant hall sat on the north-to-south road, making it easy for pilgrims to shop on their way back from tithing at the Temple.
Though the main routes were cobblestoned, so wagons or stock would not get bogged down in mud, serious traders avoided them. Instead, they wound their way through the city on a series of tiny side roads because the main roads led directly to the Temple, and the congestion of the pilgrims who came to tithe made it slow going for anything larger than a person on foot.
Wider, semicircular brick roads hugged the walls of the Temple. Kadar had been confused about why the merchants would not use them until he ventured down one lane. A surly guard quickly directed him back to the main route, but not before he’d seen the giant stone houses and beautiful gardens flanking the road. Later, Kadar asked a vendor about those houses. The man gave him an earful about the rich, first-circle families who were too proud to shop for themselves and sent servants instead. Kadar returned later to explore the next two concentric brick roads. They were slightly less ostentatious and contained the houses of the second-circle and third-circle families.
The rest of the city looked more thrown together, with properties divided up unevenly and roads cutting throughout. The merchant district was located on the north end of town, and the Forsaken and beggars’ district was on the southern side, where land that couldn’t be farmed indicated the beginnings of the desert. The west end held the livestock fairs, the bigger stables where his family’s caravan kept their mules and wagons while in town, and Kadar’s real find—the horse- and sword-training grounds for the Temple initiates. Robed Temple acolytes streamed in and out of the grounds all day. It seemed every person in the Temple took lessons here at one point or another—which meant it was the path on which to find Sulis.
It seemed like an easy solution. But he soon realized that going out dressed as a Forsaken the past few weeks had given him a great map of the city but not much else. Sulis could be out at any time of the day. And for most of the day, he was stuck inside the merchant hall listening to his uncle’s lectures on tending a permanent stall.
He had been venting his frustrations one evening by grooming the entire stable of horses at the house when Farrah came up behind him.
“Have you contacted her yet?” she asked softly, picking up a currycomb and settling beside him.
He snorted and growled wordlessly, and she laughed.
“A little frustrated, then?”
“I know where to find her. I’ve got the disguise. I just can’t sit there the entire day until she happens to go by. And I don’t know how to find out when and if she’ll be there. It would take an enormous amount of luck, and I don’t have that much money to give to Parasu.”
Farrah frowned, thinking, and Kadar stopped brushing a moment to admire the dimples that showed even when she frowned. Her face brightened.
“My friend’s wife works in the kitchens of Ivanha.” At his frown of confusion, she sighed, and continued, “The newly paired women are living in Ivanha’s house this season. They’ve been talking about Sulis since she came. They might have some idea of when she goes where. Raella wanted me to go to the Temple midweek to deliver the saffron its kitchens ordered. I could convince her to let me go tomorrow instead.”
“You’re brilliant!” Kadar said, wrapping his arms around her in a hug.
A hug she leaned into, only breaking away when they heard footsteps in the courtyard.
“Farrah!” Ava, Farrah’s sister burst into the stables, her face flushed. “Miz Raella gave me an errand to run, and she’s paying me and she said you could come and, oh, hi Kadar,” She stopped and eyed the two of them dubiously. “Were you two kissing?”
“Of course not,” Farrah said, her voice admonishing. “Ava, you need to slow down. You’ll hurt someone stampeding about like a mule.”
“Sorry,” Ava said, wrinkling her nose at Kadar.
Kadar grinned at Ava and mussed her hair. She ducked away and swatted his hand. Farrah gave him a shy smile before she walked out of the stables, her sister chattering beside her.
THE NEXT MORNING, Kadar listened as his aunt gave Farrah last-minute instructions. He paced most of the day, his mind only half on his uncle’s daily lecture, listening for Farrah’s voice. Finally, shortly before last meal, she appeared. He had to wait until the dishes were cleared before he could slip out to the stables, where he hoped she would be waiting for him.
Farrah arrived shortly after he did, and he followed her up a ladder to the hayloft.
He sat beside her and waited impatiently for her to begin.
“Well?” he asked.
“Well, I think I found out quite a bit although not all of it is reliable,” she admitted.
Kadar nodded and gestured for her to continue.
“It sounds as though all the new class has some sort of thing at the Temple of the One when they first awaken because breakfast is an hour after dawn for them.”
Kadar grinned. Sulis would hate that. They had a tough time rousing her in the mornings when they were traveling with the caravan, and she more often took night watches, preferring the darkness to dawn.
“The servants like your sister because she treats them like equals, but the other students seem to be on their guard because she isn’t allowed to take meals with them until she passes her deportment training, and she doesn’t have many friends just yet. The mothers are horrified that she can’t sew and want the wardrobe mistress to give her lessons.”
“Good luck with that,” Kadar muttered. “I was there when my mother and my grandmother tried. It isn’t worth the fight.”
Farrah’s eyes danced with amusement. “Sulis tested out of math, and reading, which is unusual enough for a girl that the teachers were gossiping about it—but they’re giving her remedial classes in scriptures and prayers and she has a personal teacher in deportment. She’s also in a geography class with the rest of her pledge mates. But the servants haven’t cleaned any breeches yet, which she would wear if she’d been riding.”
“Which means what in terms of my ability to meet with her?” Kadar asked.
“She hasn’t been assigned a riding or weapons time. But all of her classes meet in the afternoon, so . . .”
“So when she does travel the west road, it will be in the morning, but after breakfast.” Kadar laughed in relief and hugged Farrah to him. “Farrah, that’s wonderful!”
She laughed up at him from the circle of his arms, and without thinking, he bent down and kissed her. Rather than its being the passive, gentle kiss he intended, she lifted her chin and met his lips with her own soft, full ones.
His interests quickly turned from platonic to passionate, and he kissed her again, more deeply as he became aware of her body held so closely to his. His kisses moved down toward her neck, and he felt her lips on his ear, nibbling. His hand moved forward under her rough brown cloak until it reached the soft curve of her hip.
Uncle Tarik’s voice sounded below them in the stables, and Kadar drew back, turning to make certain his uncle wasn’t climbing the ladder. Uncle Tarik seemed to be talking to a stable hand.
Kadar let out a sigh of relief and turned back to Farrah, only to see her disappearing silently down a ladder on the far side of the loft.
Kadar groaned, then grinned to himself, feeling that he’d learned a lot more this evening than he’d expected.