Desert Rising (14 page)

The Tribune nodded. “That is settled, then,” he stated, shuffling his papers as though moving on.

The Crone supposed that in his legal mind, it was settled. It certainly meant rearranging some carefully positioned plans. She could see by the Templar's face that he was rethinking some of his own plans.

“Now then,” the Templar said. “The reports on security. I am not entirely convinced your sources are correct about the threat the Southern Territory poses,” he said to the Tribune, who shuffled through his own pages.

The Crone let their talk wash over her as she continued to breathe deeply, trying to hide the anger she felt that two deities would dare attempt to impose their will on Ivanha. She cursed her
feli
for being gone so she could not communicate with her goddess immediately. She had no doubt that Ivanha had heard all and was planning her next move. The Crone calmed herself, knowing that Ivanha would care for her children. She slanted her eyes over to where the Templar was calmly giving his report. The Crone would personally mete out the punishment for those who humiliated her deity. Of that she was certain.

 

Chapter 8

K
ADAR FROWNED AT
the account book as he added up the day's sales. It was midweek, worship day, so there wasn't much to tally. He looked up at the hall, empty now after a few customers stopped in before prayers, and frowned. There wasn't much going on, in the merchant hall or outside it.

He'd been waiting the entire summer for some message from Ashraf, hoping for orders on how to begin; and now it was fall, with still no message. He'd been waiting for a sign from Farrah that she or the other Forsaken needed his help. He'd been stealing occasional kisses from Farrah, but private times were few in a large household so their romance had not progressed far. He'd waited outside the Temple for a chance to talk with Sulis several months, hoping to warn her about the coming war in the desert. But an acolyte always accompanied her and he gave up, hoping to find a better way. She was no longer followed by a soldier in red, however, which made Kadar believe something must have happened that second month that he really wanted to know about. He hadn't been able to get her a message since the first one.

And he was restless. As he paced the display room, straightening things that didn't need it, he had to admit that he wanted to be on the road. His days were busy bartering and ordering and tallying, but none of those things was what he wanted to do. The autumn winds were blowing and the desert was passable again after the scorching summer days. He wanted to be on the road as his uncle Aaron was now, traveling back to Illian through the desert after having decided to caravan to Frubia with Ashraf in the spring. Kadar would even happily take charge of the stubborn mule train—­anything other than sitting in the merchant hall. Instead, he felt harnessed like the mules and frustrated at being the most inexperienced in the business of his family. As the oldest of his generation, he was the heir to the business, but even his young cousins knew more than he did about running the hall.

Someone chuckled behind him, and he turned toward the door. Aunt Raella was leaning on the doorframe of the office, a sheaf of papers in her hands, surveying him.

“The hall isn't a cage, Kadar,” she said with a smile. “If you have someplace you want to be, catch one of your cousins and make him watch over things.”

He smiled back tentatively. He'd walked rather carefully around this aunt, not knowing if she was the same force of will as Grandmother and Aunt Janis.

“There's no place I need to be, Aunt,” he said politely. “I'm glad to be here.”

She snorted, derisively. “As glad as Aaron always is, and as Gadiel was before him. Glad to be here but gladder to be gone. None of you are made for the shopkeeper's life, unlike my Tarik, who loves the comfort of a well-­cooked meal and hates being waterlogged or snowbound. I've told him he needs to give you more action, but we agreed he'd handle the teaching of you while I got Sulis. Little did I know how short-­term my end of that bargain would be.”

Kadar grimaced and looked down at his hands, thinking of his sister. It was frustrating that he was blocked at every turn trying to contact her. He was furious with her for not making more of an effort to send a return message.

He looked back up at his aunt, who was watching him with her eyes narrowed.

“So you haven't managed to talk to her either, hmm?” Aunt Raella asked. “Not even as a brown cloak? They must be quite suspicious of her if she's that heavily attended.”

Kadar was startled, and it must have shown on his face because his aunt laughed.

“Oh, yes, I knew about your little trips with Farrah. Raising four boys gave me a wicked intuition on trouble about to happen. And your grandmother has me trying to get watchers in the Temple to check on Sulis. They've seen you skulking outside the walls.”

“Grandmother wants watchers? Like the Nasirofs have?”

“The Hasifels already have watchers. Your grandmother knew almost immediately when Sulis was paired. She says the
feli
told her, but that's just the old bat's way of not revealing how many spies she has keeping an eye on all of us,” Aunt Raella said, fondness softening her harsh words. She obviously admired her mother-­in-­law.

Kadar sighed. Of course his grandmother was one step ahead of him. When he was growing up, she'd always known exactly what he was going to do before he did it. If he'd gotten in hot water with the schoolmaster, she knew before he brought home the letter; if he'd stumbled while rock climbing, she'd be waiting at the bottom with a bandage. She'd never tried to stop any of the troubles, claiming that it was good for him to suffer through on his own—­but somehow she was always present, always knowing, in every part of his life.

“Is there anything she doesn't know before it happens?” Kadar complained.

“Well, it's said she and your grandpa lived in different
jetal
the last twenty years of his life and spoke not a word to each other the previous ten. I doubt she'd have married him if she'd known that would happen,” Aunt Raella told him. “But then, maybe she wanted to be able to have kids without having to play nice with the man she was married to. You just never know with her.”

Kadar grinned, remembering all the stories about his grandmother the other kids whispered with awe when he was little—­outrageous ones about her dancing with vipers or calling water to dry wells. There was even one that said Grandfather no longer spoke to her because she'd once transformed him into a potted plant when he'd talked back to her, so he refused to say anything in case he accidentally roused her fury. Grandmother would hear the stories, and say, “Rumors are funny things,” never admitting to the tales yet never denying them either.

“Your grandmother wrote to me this week and suggested we find a way for you to be closer to the circle families in Illian,” Aunt Raella continued. “Your contact with Severin was good. Even better were tales of your fight with him, which showed you are not one of his lackeys. This could put you in good standing with the young men who are not a part of Severin's group but don't want to tangle with him either. But since you have no contact with those young men, the impression won't stay.”

Kadar thought a moment. “It would give us an advantage to know what those important families are saying about the desert.”

Aunt Raella nodded. “Your status in the clans is similar to those young men's status in Illian; your grandmother thinks they would accept you. And the means to meeting them could give you more access to Sulis.”

Kadar frowned, puzzled. “The Temple? How would I gain access to that?”

“In Illian, the Temple is a center of learning. Noble sons are educated there and also work on their weapons and horsemanship skills. Classes tend to start in autumn and continue through spring, so this is good time to join.”

“You want me to take classes,” Kadar said flatly.

Aunt Raella nodded. “The landed take classes and lessons until they reach maturity—­unlike our clans, which apprentice early. I know it sounds odd, but you would be with students your own age. I don't think we could convince anyone you needed work on horsemanship, but there are always weapons classes”—­she smiled ruefully—­“and a class on diplomacy might not be remiss.”

Kadar nodded, beginning to see the sense in it. “And such a class would explain why the family broke desert tradition to send me to Illian classes—­a punishment for my behavior with the viceroy's son. But I'm surprised Uncle Tarik agreed to this, as much as he hates the Temple.”

“Tarik doesn't know about this plan,” she admitted. “Your uncle is a good man, but he can be a little shortsighted in his prejudice. I think if you asked him, told him of your restlessness, he would give in. Especially if your grandmother and I backed you up.”

“Severin told me he teaches advanced weapons lessons for upper-­class men,” Kadar said. “It sounded like most men my age take those lessons if they're looking to climb the social ranks.”

“Perfect,” Aunt Raella said, nodding.

Kadar was excited for the first time since speaking with Ashraf. Finally, he would be doing something to help the cause, to root out what rumors the highborn spread about the desert. And he would finally have an excuse to be on the Temple grounds so he could get messages to Sulis. He would find a way to make his Uncle Tarik agree.

“
W
E SAW YOUR
brother,” a chorus greeted Sulis at midmeal.

She was hastily recopying a report for geography on the habits of migrants in the western forests, while shoveling stew in her mouth. Djinn had batted her inkwell in a playful moment, spilling ink over her first copy, and now he was lying under the table sulking because she'd yelled at him. She'd been squinting, trying to figure out if the smudges said migrants played over rocks or prayed over locks, but looked up at the surprising announcement.

Joaquil stood in front of her table with two young acolytes of Ivanha. Holding trays of food, they sat across from her. All three had blond hair bouncing in elaborate curls, and Sulis had a hard time telling them apart.

“We were at the horse arena and just finished up,” one blonde started.

“We thought we'd watch the swordplay,” the other interrupted.

“And that's when your brother arrived,” Joaquil finished.

“He's gorgeous,” they all gushed. Then they burst into giggles.

Lasha, sitting beside Sulis, snorted in disgust. Sulis only barely managed to keep from rolling her eyes. Women had always flocked around Kadar. Somehow, all of Sulis's features fit better in his face. Even when he was a small boy, women would run their fingers through his dark, curly locks and sigh, telling her mother what a beautiful boy she had while Sulis hung jealously around her mother's skirts. If they even noticed her, they declared Sulis to be “dignified” and said she had “character.”

“How do you know it was Kadar?” she asked curiously.

“Kadar, is that his name? What an exotic name. It fits him!” One girl sighed.

Joaquil leaned forward. “I heard him talking to Severin, the viceroy's son.”

At the name, the other girls burst into giggles, and one said, “Mmmm, he's almost as yummy. But now my heart is Kadar's.”

Joaquil brushed the comment off. “Anyway, he was asking whether Severin had seen you around and when you came to the stables. Is it true you're twins? You don't look anything like him.”

Sulis nodded. “I'm the elder by a few minutes.”

“He's got that gorgeous dark skin. And that curly hair. And that cute nose,” one blonde gushed, sighing.

Sulis just stopped herself from touching her prominent nose. No one had ever said hers was cute though it was the same nose. On Kadar, it looked dignified; on her, it was a hawk's beak.

“Will he be coming back?” she wondered out loud. “I wonder why he was here.” And with Severin—­the very person he'd warned her to beware of.

“Well,” Joaquil said, “I heard that he got into a fight with Severin this summer, and your family decided he had to take diplomacy classes when they started up again for the paying students this week. I guess he's taking swordsmanship, too. And from Severin, who's the best swordsman in the city.”

“But I hear he's friends with Severin now,” a blonde added.

“That Severin is such a gentleman.”

“In more ways than one!”

“Hmm, yeah. Gentle and such a man!”

The three of them burst into giggles again, leaving Sulis to exchange desperate glances with Lasha.

“Um, Sulis,” Lasha said, fumbling for an excuse, “we've got a group study we have to make before the bell.”

“Oh, that's right, I'd forgotten,” Sulis said gratefully. “I'm sorry. Thanks for telling me about Kadar,” she told the other girls. “He really likes blondes,” she added devilishly, thinking of Kadar surrounded by those three. “They're really exotic since desert girls are all dark-­haired, but he's a little shy, so you have to make the first move.”

She could hear their whispers and giggles as she and Lasha left the dining room.

In the courtyard, Lasha stopped and shook her head. “They're shameless,” she said. “After what you said, I'll be surprised if they don't attack your poor brother.”

“He deserves it for tripping me in the marketplace trying to get that letter to me. I wonder what he's really doing here? My aunt and uncle wouldn't send him to classes just because of a fight; they'd be more likely to send him back to the desert if he were really in trouble. And besides, that was months ago,” Sulis mused.

“He's trying to talk to you, I'd imagine,” Lasha said.

Lasha's
feli
sidled over to Djinn and draped a front leg over his neck; then she put all her weight on it and dragged him to the ground. Djinn growled, and the two began a wrestling match.

Sulis watched the two of them, contemplating this new development. Kadar had slipped another note to her in the marketplace, but that had been so brief as to be laughable. Perhaps she should have taken the “see you soon” part more seriously, though. She looked up as someone approached them on the path.

“Sulis,” Jonas called from the path ahead of them, “I met your brother!”

He trotted up to them. His gray
feli
Pollux ran up with him and sat, watching the other two
feli
wrestling with the tip of his tail twitching, as though he'd like to join in but didn't want to mess up his immaculate coat.

“Your brother's a busy guy,” Lasha said dryly.

“You, too?” Sulis asked Jonas, then nodded in realization. “He's in your diplomacy class, isn't he?”

Jonas shook his head. “No, he's in the trade-­law class I've been sitting in on. I didn't get to do more than introduce myself before he was surrounded by the paying students, on his way to a weapons lesson.”