WindDeceiver (14 page)

“Poor girl,” Rachel sighed.

“She didn’t kill herself by jumping off the bridge that day,” he whispered. “She went to one of the old crone’s near Bumsford and got an abortion.” He looked up. “The old woman must have butchered her, Rachel. Joannie had to have been bleeding badly, knowing nothing could be done to save her, and so she threw herself off the bridge to make it look like she’d fallen.” His voice got lower. “But everyone assumed it was a suicide.”

“Did her mother know she was with child?”

“Aye,” he answered. “And she blamed me, thinking it was mine.” He stared into the fire.

“I didn’t even know about the babe until three years ago. When Joannie’s mother confronted me with it, I looked to Teal, thinking he would admit to being the father.”

“Yet it wasn’t your friend’s child, but the child of the man who died this morning,” Rachel said quietly.

His face crinkled with grief. “I didn’t even know Storm was seeing her.” The weight of it crushed down on him and his shoulders sagged beneath the onslaught. “He must have loved her, really loved her, to have waited all those years to get back at me for being the one who killed her.”

“You didn’t kill her!” Rachel admonished him, clutching his hands tightly.

“I might as well have,” Conar answered. “Sadie thought I did; Storm thought I did. They both hated me for it.” He pulled his hands away from her. “And they both got even in ways that hurt me so badly it’s a wonder I’m still sane!”

“The man who died regretted what he had done,” she reminded him. “He asked your forgiveness.”

“And he received it!” Conar muttered, picking up a stick and jabbing it viciously into the fire. “To his way of thinking I had taken his child from him; he took mine.” He threw the stick into the fire. “But I have to believe he didn’t know what Jaborn would do to my daughter.” He turned his moist eyes to her. “I have to believe he didn’t have any notion the Hasdu bastard would kill my child. If I believed otherwise--“ He left the hopeless words handing on the still desert air as he returned his probing attention to the flames.

Rachel stood up and adjusted the warmth of her shawl around her. “I should be getting back to the camp before Prince Sajin and Asher go for each other’s throats.”

Conar looked up from his morbid contemplation. “Why would they?”

She twisted her head slightly to one side. “They are brothers; only a year apart in age. Did you not know that?” When he just looked at her, she nodded. “They have the same father, but it’s been twenty years since they’ve seen one another.”

“I don’t remember Sajin telling me he had a brother and I know damned well he told me he had only one sister,” Conar complained.

“Sybelle,” Rachel said as though the name left a rotten taste in her mouth. “The witch.”

He nodded slowly. “Why wouldn’t he have told me about you?”

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“We are no kin,” she answered. “The only tie between us is Asher. Asher and I share a mother in common; our fathers were from different tribes.”

“I take it, then, there’s bad blood between the two of them,” Conar commented.

“Because of me,” she said in a low voice. At his puzzled look, she wrinkled her nose.

“Prince Sajin made a bid for me. When I was twelve.” She laughed at his look of shock. “As a concubine, not as a legal wife. My parent’s thought Prince Sajin’s quest for my hand was perfectly acceptable. I wouldn’t have minded, either.”

“Asher did though,” Conar said, understanding.

“He thought it incestuous,” she answered. “I don’t know if it could be considered that or not. Prince Sajin certainly didn’t think so.”

“And so the two of them argued over it.”

“Argued and fought a duel over it,” Rachel agreed. “Prince Sajin was wounded and Asher fled, afraid King Syam, their father, would order him jailed for daring to lay hands on one of his heirs.”

“He’d have his own son imprisoned?” Conar asked.

“Did your father not have you jailed?” she responded.

“Not exactly,” he said, not wanting to go into that.

Rachel respected his reluctance to speak of his past. “At any rate, Prince Sajin ceased bidding for me and Asher and he became enemies.”

“Now here they are together because of me,” Conar mumbled.

“They’ve fought on the same side for years,” she told him. “Both fighting to rid our land of slavery; each in his own way.” She turned to walk to her horse. “Be careful out here alone, Khamsin.”

He watched her mount her horse. She looked so much like Liza, sat her nag just as Liza use to, that it brought a lump of pain to his throat and he had to clear it before he could speak.

“Thank you, Rachel.”

She wrinkled her nose, a habit which had not been one of Liza’s. “Someone had to come out here. We all agreed you wouldn’t take MY head off.”

“I thought you said Asher won the draw?” he quipped.

“I lied,” she grinned, turning her horse’s head toward the camp. Clucking her tongue, she kicked the mare into a light canter.

Lying to protect his feelings, he thought with a wry grin, had been one of Liza’s habits, too.

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Asher ignored Sajin as the Kensetti Prince sat with Balizar, discussing an upcoming raid on a slave caravan. He didn’t trust Sajin; didn’t like the man. He listened carefully to what was being said and now and again turned to glare at his brother, but did not join in to add his own thoughts to the scenario being planned.

Balizar looked up as Rachel walked her horse into camp. When she nodded pleasantly at him, he breathed a long sigh of relief. “He’s all right.”

Sajin’s gaze followed Rachel to the tent she was sharing with another woman. “She is still unmarried.”

“Don’t even think about it, Ben-Alkazar!” Asher growled.

The Kensetti turned his head and just stared at his brother, not bothering to answer the warning. His silent gaze and blank look finally made Asher turn his head away.

“She is the only family Asher has left,” Balizar said quietly.

“No, she isn’t,” Sajin snapped. He jerked his attention back to Balizar. “How many slaves have you been able to free since Conar joined you?”

“More than a hundred, so far,” Balizar answered. “He has much experience with raids in Serenia and the other Outland kingdoms in re-taking hostages and victims meant for sacrifice. His methods are proving most useful to us here.”

“He is a brilliant strategist,” Yuri acknowledged. “He was trained by many who are experts in their fields.”

Balizar smiled at the Outer Kingdom warrior. “You speak Serenian quite well.”

Yuri puffed out his chest. “Conar taught me!”

“A man for all people,” Sajin chuckled. “It is rare to find someone who can go anywhere in the world and gain for himself a loyal following.”

“And vicious enemies,” Azalon remarked. “Prince Jaleel Jaborn is not a man to be taken lightly, Your Grace.” He sipped on a cup of strong Hasdu coffee. “McGregor can not lower his guard for a moment with such a man.”

Sajin nodded. “I’ve told him as much.”

“He’ll eventually want to go after Jaborn,” Yuri reminded the others.

“Not to Abbadon,” Balizar said, a worried look on his wrinkled face. “That place is called the ‘Depths of Hell’ by the Kensettis.”

Prince Sajin Ben-Alkazar stood up. “My people have had reason to fear that place for over a thousand years.”

“Longer,” Asher grumbled. He raised his head and glared at Sajin. “It is written in the Book that Abbadon is the abode of the dead.”

“Many have died behind those walls,” Rupine, the physician said in a grieving tone. “My own father was murdered there.”

“I’ve never been inside the gates,” Sajin admitted, “but three of my brothers were invited when Jaleel reached his majority and all those of the desert tribe emirates went to sign peace treaties with the Jaborn family.” A bitter light flooded Sajin’s gaze. “That was before Jaborn started a holy war with nearly the entire populace of the Inner Kingdom.”

“A war that still rages in parts of the Middle Eastern sector of our land,” Rupine put in.

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“Rysalia is a vast country,” Balizar remarked. “Why there must be so much friction between the different tribes in a mystery I still can not understand.” He shook his head. “There’s plenty of land for all of them.”

“The Kensetti are the rightful owners of all of Rysalia,” Rupine said in a bitter tone. “But through war and slavery and out and out murder, the land has been sectioned off, partitioned out in worthless treaties like the one with the Jaborn family, or taken as dowry right when a Kensetti woman marries outside her own tribe.”

“Which happens far too often,” Asher ground out.

“We have fought hard to retain what we have,” Sajin

told Balizar, “and we will fight to the death to see that no more Kensetti lands are taken.”

“The Hasdus are thieves,” Asher hissed.

Yuri’s forehead wrinkled with confusion. “Are you not all Hasdu?”

“By the Prophet’s beard, we are not!” Asher shouted, coming to his feet in a bound. “Most of you from the Outside group us all together, but Kensettis are Kensettis. We are the Chosen!”

“Those from the three sections of Rysalia: Asaraba to the North, Basaraba to the South, and Dahrenia in the Middle, are all Hasdu,” Sajin explained. “Technically, every person born in the Inner Kingdom are Hasdu, but--.”

“
I am Decus
!” Asher shouted his brother down.

“That is the name of your tribe, Asher,” Sajin sighed. He fused his placid gaze with Asher’s irate one. “It matters not if you do not claim to be Hasdu, I don’t either. I am Jabol.” He nodded toward Rupine. “This man is Ciam and I would imagine you have members of the Synsos tribe here, as well.”

“I am not Hasdu!” Asher spit.

“Some Rysalians argue that they are not Hasdu, either,” Rupine chuckled. “Those of the Northern sector call themselves Asars.” He tossed away the remains of the cold coffee in his tin cup. “As one of the Ancients once asked: ‘what is in a name?’”

“I am not Hasdu,” Asher mumbled.

“Are you Samiel, Asher?”

Asher looked up and found Conar McGregor, the man he called Khamsin, striding into the camp.

“Yes,” Asher said. “And as poisonous to the Hasdu as Maiden’s Briar!” He grinned. “Do you know of that brew, Khamsin?”

Conar nodded gravely. “Aye, unfortunately I do.”

“Are you all right?” Balizar asked.

Looking around him, Conar met each of the men’s eyes. “I am fine. Do not ask me again.”

“We have been sitting here discussing the raid you plan for later this week,” Sajin told his friend. “Mind if I come along?”

“He has nothing better to do with his time,” Yuri quipped, “except get into mischief with you.”

“We need every man we can get,” Conar answered. He smiled crookedly at Sajin. “Before you retire for the night, I want to talk with you, nomad.”

“See, now,” Sajin said, looking around him with a wide grin. “
That
is a name we can all agree upon.” He winked at Asher, whose lips twitched despite the fierce glower on the man’s dark face. “We are all nomad!”

“I wouldn’t brag about it if I were you,” Conar snorted.

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Sajin walked to his friend and draped a heavy arm over his shoulder. “That’s because you are Serenian, McGregor. Everyone here knows Serenians are the most arrogant people in all the world.”

“We have to be,” Conar answered in a bored tone. “WE are the true Chosen!”

Asher snickered, wondering how long Khamsin had been listening to their conversation before joining them. He found his brother looking at him. A tight feeling formed in his gut, then relaxed. Sajin was being on his best behavior and if he could, Asher thought he, himself, might be able to function normally with Ben-Alkazar around.

At any rate, he’d try for the Outlander’s sake.

“I’m here,” Sajin sighed as he ducked into Conar’s tent. He folded his arms across his chest, sighed again, braced his legs apart, and stared at his friend. “Go ahead and get it over with.”

Conar cocked his head to one side. “Get what over with?”

“The scolding,” Sajin answered in a resigned voice.

A thick blond brow lifted slowly. “And just what is it I’m suppose to scold you about, nomad?”

Sajin unfolded his arms and held up his left hand, lifting a finger as he counted the reasons.

“One: why didn’t I know there was someone on my ship who meant you harm? Two: why didn’t I keep that bastard from throwing you off the ship? Three: why didn’t I come before you were subjected to that humiliating experience at Asaraba. Four: why did I let you wander around the desert, almost dead? Five: why the hell am I here in the first place because you are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself?”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Conar said, stretching out on his pallet.

“Humpf!” Sajin snorted, plopping down beside his friend.

“I

am.”

Sajin took an apricot from a bowl of fruit and bit down into the tangy flesh. He chewed for a moment, studying his friend, and then swallowed. “You are?”

“Aye.”

Juice dripped down the side of Sajin’s hand and he turned his palm over to lick at the stickiness. “Why?”

“Because I know who threw me overboard and I know who helped him do it,” Conar told him.

Sajin was about to take another bite into the fruit. He stopped. “It was one of either Jaborn’s or Ben-Shanar Gehdrin’s men.”

“The one who acted as second for Jaborn at the tourney.”

“Rasheed Falkar,” Sajin agreed, nodding. He took another bite of fruit. “I warned you about him.”

“Your sister was a part of it, too,” Conar said softly.

Sajin stared at him. “Sybelle?” At Conar’s look, the Kensetti slowly lowered the apricot.