The Golden Barbarian (21 page)

Tess hesitated, gazing after him in confusion. Alexander gave a low call, and she glanced down at him absently. “Be quiet. We’re going.”

She shrugged as she began to negotiate the spiral stone staircase. Galen’s attitude might be bewildering, but many good things had come out of this night in addition to the pleasure he had taught her. She had begun to understand the experiences that had created him and the battles he constantly fought.

No, she was not at all sorry she had come to the tower.

Chapter 8

A murmur of voices, the sudden absence of warmth.

Tess murmured protestingly as she felt Galen sit up on the divan. “It’s all right. Go back to sleep.”

Tess opened one eye to see Said standing by the divan, striving valiantly not to look at her. “What is it?”

“Said says Kalim wishes to see me.” Galen swung his feet to the floor.

Tess glanced at the lattice window. Only the first pink streaks of dawn showed through. They had not arrived back at the palace from the tower until after midnight, and could not have been asleep for more than a few hours. “Now?”

“Kalim says it’s important.”

She raised herself on one elbow. “Where is he?”

“In the anteroom.” He paused. “Don’t worry, I won’t permit him to be brought into your presence. I’ll go to him.”

She gazed at him in surprise. “Why? I may not like the man, but I’m not so missish that I must hide my face when he appears before me.”

His gaze shifted to the outline of her naked breasts beneath the silk sheet. “It wasn’t your face I was trying to hide. I thought you might be feeling … vulnerable.”

“You mean defeated.” She shook her head. “You’re not being sensible. No one has defeated me. Not you, and certainly not Kalim. I’ve only kept my bargain, and there’s no dishonor in that.” She airily waved her hand. “Tell him to come in, Said.”

“I’m glad you’ve shown me the error of my thinking,” Galen said gravely. He nodded to Said as he lay back down and draped the sheet over himself. He tucked her bare arm beneath the sheet and drew the silken coverlet up to her chin. “I hope you won’t mind if I object to your appearing in
déshabille
in front of another man. I find I’m experiencing a certain primitive possessiveness.”

Her brow wrinkled in puzzlement. “I don’t mind, but I don’t understand. It doesn’t seem reasonable for you to feel—”

“I’m sorry to disturb you,
Majiron.”
Kalim
strode across the chamber toward them. “There’s been a raid in the hills. A messenger arrived from the encampment of El Sabir.”

“El Sabir!” Galen sat straight up in bed. “What raider?”

“They’re not sure.” Kalim hesitated. “It could have been Tamar.”

“This far south?” Galen shook his head. “He’s never raided the El Zalan before.”

Kalim shrugged. “The leader matched his description, and he took women and horses as well as gold and seemed very selective about choosing the horses. You know what a passion Tamar has for fine horses.”

“Who brought the message?”

“Yusef.” Kalim carefully avoided looking at Tess. “He wasn’t at the encampment at the time of the raid, but rode in directly afterward. It was he who said descriptions of the leader pointed to Tamar.”

Galen smiled crookedly. “You needn’t be so discreet, Kalim. I assure you that Yusef wasn’t with the
majira
yesterday.”

Kalim nodded without expression. “I didn’t think he would have remained in such splendid health if that had been the case.”

“Quite right.” Galen stood up and reached for the robe Said hastily held out to him. “And it appears my wife was not enamored of Yusef, but of his house. She needed a high roof from which to launch her pigeon.”

Kalim blinked. “Pigeon?”

“It’s actually Viane’s pigeon. We’re teaching him to—” Tess broke off. Why was she making explanations to Kalim? She turned to Galen. “Where is this El Sabir?”

“It’s one of the encampments that guards the gold mines in the hills. The El Sabir is one of the vassal tribes of the El Zalan.” Galen took the goblet of wine Said held out to him. “It’s about a four-hour ride from here.” He took a sip of wine and turned back to Kalim. “What damage?”

“Not good. He set the encampment to the torch, and there were six deaths.” Kalim paused. “One child. The young son of Hanal.”

Galen swore. “Mother of God, when will it end?” He thrust the goblet at Said, turned, and strode toward the dressing room. “We’ll leave within a half hour. Rouse the men.” He disappeared into the dressing room, followed closely by Said.

Kalim started for the door, then stopped and slowly turned to face Tess again. “I was mistaken?” he asked haltingly.

Tess gazed at him without answering.

“You should have defended yourself. You should have told me—”

“That I’m not a strumpet? Why should I defend myself to you? Why should I care what you thought?” She raised her chin. “I knew you were not my friend.”

He flushed. “Perhaps not your friend, but I would not wish harm to an innocent woman.” He inclined his head in a formal bow. “You have my
regrets if my action caused you undue pain. I owe you reparation.”

Tess stared at him in surprise. He was a proud man, and she had not expected an apology. He was undoubtedly more complex and perhaps less arrogant than she had thought. She tilted her head to gaze at him curiously. “It isn’t only that I’m a woman of the West, is it? You dislike me.”

“I have no right to dislike you. You are the
majira
. I should—”

“Sweet Mary, cease.” She scowled at him. “Tell me the truth.”

He opened and closed his mouth without speaking. Finally, he said jerkily, “I do not dislike you. I fear you.”

Before she could recover from the shock of his words, he turned on his heel and strode from the chamber.

Tess gazed blankly at the door. His words had astonished her not only because of their content, but because of the admission itself. Kalim represented all that was alien and forbidding in Zalandan for her, and yet, for an instant, she had detected something vulnerable and sensitive beyond his proud, cold facade.

Perhaps she had also been arrogant in expecting these people to welcome her warmly when she had done nothing to earn such a welcome. Since she had come to Zalandan, she had not really tried to get to know the El Zalan. Like a child, she had played with the pigeons, ridden Pavda, and sought only to amuse herself.

“I’ll be back tomorrow evening, if all goes well. Lord knows, I can’t be certain.” Galen, fully dressed, strode out of the dressing room. “I’ll probably have to spend hours in the council tent trying to talk them out of starting a tribal war. Stay inside the city gates. Though I doubt if Tamar will be anywhere nearby. He usually strikes and then carries his booty back to his own encampment, but there’s no sense taking risks.” He started toward the door.

“Wait.” She blurted out, “I want to go with you.”

Galen shook his head. “This won’t be a pleasant journey. No tents or satin cushions. We’ll travel fast and sleep on the ground.”

“I know that. I still want to go.”

His gaze narrowed on her face. “Why?”

“I’m not sure.” She moistened her lips with her tongue. “I think perhaps I might learn …” She shook her head and repeated helplessly, “I don’t know.”

“You’ll see things you won’t like.”

She nodded. Her hand clutched the sheet covering her body; the texture was soft and silky, as her entire life had been since she arrived in Sedikhan. But there were other, rougher textures and patterns to this country, and people she had not experienced yet. “May I go with you?”

He nodded curtly. “You have a right to see why I brought you to Sedikhan. Dress. I’ll meet you in the courtyard within the half hour.”

* * *

The fires were out in the encampment of the El Sabir, but the flames had left devastation in their wake.

Tess had begun to smell the smoke from over two miles away. Her eyes smarted as she rode beside Galen through the encampment, but she didn’t know whether the stinging was from smoke or tears. Over half the tents had gone up in flames, and it was heart-wrenching to see entire families searching among the blackened rubble of their possessions, trying to salvage a cooking pot, a bit of bedding, a straw doll.

“Did he have to burn the tents?” she asked huskily.

“No.” Galen’s expression was grim. “But he probably enjoyed it.” He reined up before a scorched, ragged tent. “This is the tent of Dala, the mother of the child who was killed. You don’t have to come in with me.”

“I’ll come.”

Galen dismounted, came around, and helped her down from Pavda. “You may be sorry.”

Tess
was
sorry. The moment she entered the small tent, she saw the child.

The little boy lying on the pallet couldn’t have been over three years old, and his long lashes curled peacefully on tan cheeks that still held the silky bloom of babyhood. He could have been asleep, but slumber did not have this quality of tragic stillness.

The thin young woman who knelt beside the child was not long out of childhood herself, but
the eyes she lifted as they came into the tent were old with pain.

“I sorrow with you, Dala,” Galen said gently. “Is there anything I can do to ease you?”

The woman shook her head. “They broke him,
Majiron,”
she whispered. “They rode him down as if he were a mongrel dog that got in their way.”

Galen’s hand clasped the woman’s shoulder.

“They saw him.” The woman dazedly shook her head. “They saw him and still did not swerve aside. He was barely three,
Majiron.”

“Where is your husband?”

“With the other men at the council tent.” Her eyes were brimming with tears. “He cannot bear to look at him.” Her hand reached out and caressed the little boy’s unruly curls. “And I cannot bear to let him go.”

Tess’s throat ached as she looked at the woman. She wanted to run far away from this place of sorrow and death. Dear heaven, she was full of pain.

“I’ll send him to you,” Galen said.

The woman shook her head. “I must prepare my son for burial. My husband feels my pain as well as his own. He cannot bear the burden of both right now.”

“The village women?”

“They have their own families to care for. It is a bad time.”

“I’ll stay.” Tess didn’t realize she had spoken until the words were out. She took a step forward and fell to her knees beside the woman. “If you
will permit me?” Dear God, why had she made the offer? She had no wish to be here.

“I don’t care,” the woman said dully, still looking at the child. “Whatever the
majiron
wishes.”

“You wish to stay?” Galen asked Tess in a low voice.

“No.” Her voice was trembling. “But I’ve got to stay.”

Galen’s gaze searched her face before he nodded slowly. “I’ll station Said outside the tent. If you have need of anything, send him to the council tent to get me.”

She could not stop looking at the face of the child. Sweet Jesu, he was almost a baby. How would she have felt if this babe had been her own?

Galen hesitated, and she could feel his stare on her face.

“Go on,” she whispered. “You can do no more here.”

She heard him move and then felt a current of air as the tent flap was opened. After the flap fell, she was silent a moment. What did she do now? Dala seemed to be in a stupor of grief, and Tess had never been good with people. Yet she had to do something.

Very well. She wasn’t good with people, but she knew horses. She would apply what she knew of animals to Dala. Dala was beaten and wanted only to lie down and wallow in grief. But if a sick horse was allowed to lie down, that was often the end for him. So, Tess reasoned, she must keep the woman moving.

She reached over and shook Dala’s thin shoulder. “I know it’s not fair, but you must guide me.”

Dala lifted dull eyes. “What?”

“I want to help you with him, but I don’t know how to go about it. What’s the first thing we must do?”

The woman stirred, temporarily brought out of her numbness by the necessity of responding to Tess’s ignorance and need. She rubbed her temple and then said haltingly, “First, we should bathe him.”

Tess nodded briskly. “Then that’s what we’ll do. I’ll go ask Said to fetch water.” She stood up and moved toward the flap of the tent. “Yes, that sounds sensible.”

But what was sensible in a world where innocent babies were murdered?

She didn’t leave Dala’s tent until the sun was setting.

Said immediately rose to his feet as she stepped out of the tent. “You have not eaten. We’ve set up our own camp near the stream at the edge of the El Sabir encampment and found enough game for a stew. May I get you something,
Majira?”

“Not now.” She was too weary and heartsick to think of food. “Where is my husband?”

He nodded at a large tent several hundred yards away from Where they stood. “Still at the council tent.”

“Take me to him.”

“It’s not fitting for a woman to disturb—”

She wheeled on him, her hands clenched into fists.
“Merde
, I have no intention of intruding on the men’s precious council. Though only the sweet Virgin knows why a woman should have no say in these matters when their children are butchered like—” She turned away. It wasn’t Said’s fault that life was unfair to women. Or perhaps it was his fault, and Galen’s fault, and her father’s, and all the men who dictated that women should bear children and then fail to give them a safe world in which to raise them. She strode past Said toward the council tent. “I’ll wait until the meeting is done, but I must speak to the
majiron
as soon as possible.”