Desert Rising (16 page)

“Yeah, I'm fine,” Sulis muttered. There was nothing like a desert war whoop to scare horses and only one person in that crowd who could have made one.

“Is she all right?” the dark-­haired man who was crossing knives with Kadar asked, and Sulis and Aggie turned to him.

“Yes she is—­no thanks to your men. Severin, you know better!” Aggie growled, though to Sulis's eyes, she looked more amused than angry. Sulis was certain she knew which voice had sounded the yell.

“Sorry, Mistress.” Kadar came to the front of the crowd and spoke humbly, although there were crinkle marks around his eyes. “I'm new here. I forgot myself. However, I did think the better riders were in this ring. I wouldn't have thought an experienced rider would fall off like that.”

The other men oohed at the obvious challenge and nudged one another.

Sulis narrowed her eyes. “If you think it's so easy, you try it,” she told him, thinking it would be nice to see him struggle with the different riding style the way she had.

He handed his sheathed knife to one of the other men and vaulted the fence.

“I always enjoy besting my big sister,” he said with a grin.

Sulis looked at Aggie, who shrugged.

“If he can get Starfire to do anything at this point, he's welcome to it,” she said.

Starfire had retreated to the far end of the arena, away from the alarming noises. He shied as Kadar came near but calmed the minute he put a hand on his neck. Kadar spoke to him a moment, then vaulted into the saddle, in much the way Sulis had. He let the reins out loosely.

“He'd better firm up those reins, or Starfire'll take off with him,” Aggie muttered to Sulis. Sulis was rather looking forward to the event.

But Kadar just murmured to the horse, and he broke into a quick walk, then a trot. Kadar guided the gelding with his legs—­although the horse wasn't trained that way—­and did a serpentine.

“I don't think he injured himself,” Kadar called, as the gelding moved smoothly into a trot. Rider and horse were seamless, moving together as a unit.

“I'm amazed a
feli
hasn't come here and snatched him up, as talented as he is,” Aggie said in a low voice to Sulis.

“
Feli
avoid him. So do the hunting dogs and even the barn cats. We think it's because he's talented with the hooved animals,” Sulis told her.

Kadar approached the first jump and swept over it, gracefully rising on the gelding's neck. But Sulis was ready when he came past her for a second time. She let a whoop of her own, as piercing and shrill as his.

Starfire shied and crow-­hopped. Kadar flailed for his balance a moment, but then recovered and held on, talking the horse to a stop. The crowd behind Sulis hooted and clapped as she shook her head in admiration.

Kadar brought Starfire up to them at a walk and dismounted.

“Not bad,” Aggie commented. “Though if you want to stay on in battle, you'll need to deepen your seat a little more and leave less space between your saddle and leg when giving the horse its cues.”

Kadar's eyebrows rose in surprise at the trainer's critique.

“Perhaps I should schedule riding lessons,” he said, bowing slightly.

“Don't get me wrong,” Aggie told him. “You're a better rider than I am.” Sulis had a feeling that was high praise. “But you train under me, and no soldier will ever unseat you without killing the horse first.”

Lasha straggled up, red-­faced and panting. “I can't get near her!” she told Aggie.

Sulis looked about with a start and realized her whoop had scared Lasha's mare as well as Starfire. The mare was standing nervously at the back of the arena, ears pinned back.

“Severin, you've lost your sparring partner,” Aggie announced. “He's got a horse to catch and cool down.”

Severin saluted her with a hand to his brow and smiled. “We were just finishing anyway. See you tomorrow, Kadar.”

Severin called the rest of the men away from the fence and put them to work against one another.

“I think Starfire's had enough excitement for the day,” Aggie told Sulis. “Mount up and walk him around the arena a ­couple times so he knows there's no danger, then cool him. Kadar, do the same for the mare. Then bring them to the stable. Lasha, make sure they don't scare their mounts anymore.”

Aggie turned and walked back to the stables, leaving them to follow her orders.

Kadar caught the skittish mare and brought her alongside Starfire. The two of them walked the horses in silence a few minutes. Sulis was feeling a little awkward, seeing Kadar for the first time in months. He suddenly seemed like a stranger to her, and she shot glances at him, trying to see how he'd changed without her. He seemed different after she had spent so much time with her Temple friends. She hadn't realized how out of place her ­people looked in this city, how dark and tall, until she was surrounded day in and day out with ­people of a different race. She wondered if that was how her new friends saw her—­different and exotic.

“Is she a friend?” Kadar asked under his breath as they cooled the horses and brought them back to the stalls, with Lasha falling into step beside them.

“Yes,” Sulis answered, and raised her voice to include Lasha. “Kadar, this is my friend Lasha.”

He smiled and nodded at her, and Lasha returned his smile shyly.

When they reached the building, Lasha paused at the doorway. “Why don't you two put the horses away? I'll stay in the aisle and tell you if anyone's coming.”

Sulis gave her a grateful smile, and Lasha squeezed her shoulder as they went past.

Sulis unsaddled her gelding in silence, aware of Kadar behind her but not certain where to start talking.

She put Starfire in his stall and turned. He grabbed her in a fierce hug.

“I've missed you, sister o' mine,” he said in her ear before letting her go. “So, you're making friends? Who else?”

They sat in the sawdust, leaning against the stalls, and Sulis filled him in on her life at the Temple. His hands clenched when she told him about the Templar and about Alannah's warning against talking about the desert.

“I haven't been able to investigate Mother's death, though,” she told him. “Maybe once I've been taken by a deity, I'll have more access—­right now we're kept among our class group, isolated from the rest of the Temple. Supposedly, it's to give us time to work on our meditation and bond with our
feli
.”

“Where is this Djinn you've been talking about?” he asked.

“He doesn't like the stables. Sawdust makes him sneeze and gets in his coat, so he's probably sunning himself in some courtyard.”

Kadar looked at her seriously. “I've heard from our uncles and Ashraf about possible war in the desert,” he told her, and filled her in on his agreement with Ashraf, as well as Severin's sudden friendliness. He sat straight, and Sulis could tell he was proud of the work he was doing for the Forsaken. After the fourth time he mentioned a girl's name, she stopped him.

“Who's Farrah?” she interrupted. He turned bright red, confirming her suspicions. “Are you falling for this girl? How do you know you can trust her?” she demanded.

“You met her, Sulis, the first day we got here, remember?” Kadar said.

Sulis thought back and remembered a blond woman in a brown hood. She snickered. “The Forsaken woman? That's who you're seeing? Uncle Tarik must be having a fit . . . or doesn't he know?”

“I'm not seeing her, not really. She's the one organizing the Forsaken, Sulis. She's amazing. We talk every day. I could talk to her for hours. Her father's dead, and she ran the family business before the Temple drove them out. Now she takes care of her family. But we can't see each other, it's forbidden, right?”

“And does she like you as much as you like her?” Sulis asked.

“I don't know,” he groaned. He ran a hand though his curls. “There's no privacy at the hall. We've kissed a few times. Half the time, she acts like I don't exist, and the rest . . .”

“Hmm,” Sulis said, thinking about it. “Sounds like she's as confused as you are, and for better reason. She's more likely to be killed for loving you than you are for loving her. Do you get to see her much?”

“Every day.”

“Well,” Sulis said philosophically, “if ­people do find out, you can always smuggle her to Grandmother. It sounds like they'd get along.”

“She'd never leave her family or the movement,” Kadar said, leaning back. “And speaking of getting along, you made quite an impression on Ashraf. He asks about you in every letter.”

She snorted. “He's dreaming. I'm courting a different sort of bridegroom these days. I'll be seeing a deity for life, not some handsome rascal from Frubia.”

“So you did like him,” Kadar pounced on her words gleefully. “I knew it. He's pretty crazy about you, too!”

“Kadar, are you listening? It's impossible! I belong to the Temple now. My mate is a
feli
.”

“Mom belonged to the Temple, and she married Father,” Kadar told her. “She had a husband and a
feli
.”

“Mom ran away from the Temple,” Sulis reminded him. “I won't run away from anything.”

Lasha's voice sounded loudly at the head of the aisle. “I'm not sure Kadar is still here,” Sulis heard her tell someone.

They scrambled to their feet as Sulis heard Joaquil's dulcet tones.

Kadar groaned. “Those girls won't keep their hands off me. I've never met such bold women in my life. I'm afraid they're going to run me down one of these times.”

Sulis grinned. “I might have let them know how shy you are,” she admitted, as the voices came closer. “Just to help my little brother meet some nice women.”

He gaped at her and shook his head. “You are coldhearted,” he told her.

She hugged him close. “Stay safe,” she whispered in his ear, and pushed him away. “Don't let Ashraf put you in too much danger.”

She turned and walked up the aisle, past the blondes, who broke into giggles when they saw Kadar. She looked back once, and he grinned and winked over the other girls' heads. She raised her hand in a wave and went to join Lasha outside.

 

Chapter 9

K
ADAR WALKED TH
OUGH
the streets of Illian whistling. It had been a few busy weeks since he'd talked to Sulis, but the effects were lasting. He felt like he'd regained his center. Farrah followed him now, frowning every time he smiled back at her. She was annoyed with his good mood, probably thinking he wasn't taking this seriously. Kadar simply figured he'd look less suspicious whistling than skulking around with a scowl on his face, and since whistling was what fit his mood, that was what he did.

They'd looked over dozens of large storage houses on the edges of town in the past month, since he received a letter from Ashraf telling him to expect a wagon, searching for something that would be remote enough that wagons would go unnoticed but still reputable enough that no one would question why the son of a wealthy family would rent the space. They'd finally found the perfect place, on a tip from one of the third-­circle trainees Kadar took lessons with. It seemed that many noble sons had businesses on the side, and this was the street they rented on. After Kadar made that discovery, it was easy to hint to the owner that he was building a side to his family's business and to rent the space.

The shipment from Ashraf was due to arrive today, relatively early in the morning if the messenger was accurate, and Kadar wanted to see what he'd been sent.

Kadar unlocked the door to the warehouse and they stepped into the dimness of the mostly empty space. A high, barred window let in light. There were a few bales of cheap fabric the Hasifels hadn't been able to sell beside the door. His uncle had told him he could take the bales, and Kadar intended to use them to cover and disguise the weapons if necessary.

The wagon was late. Kadar paced the empty warehouse, agitated, under Farrah's amused eyes.

“Would you relax, Kadar?” she finally said in exasperation. She stood and walked over to him, clasping his hands in hers.

“I don't know how you do it, all the waiting,” he told her. “I'm going crazy waiting for one wagon of goods, but you've spent your whole life waiting for something that might never come.”

“What choice do I have?” she asked. “I have to tell myself that this is all preparation. Sometimes, freedom comes slowly. If I never see it, then I'll know that this is winter wheat I am sowing. Other hands will harvest what I have planted, and I must be content knowing I am feeding another generation,” She grinned. “But this is the start. Thanks to you and Ashraf, we're finally going to fight for our freedom!”

Kadar squeezed her hands. “Sometimes freedom is slow, but sometimes justice is quick and sure.”

She stepped closer to him. “So wise for someone so young,” she said, her voice teasing.

Kadar blushed, hoping he hadn't seemed ponderous, and she reached up and caressed his cheek.

He stepped closer, and she pulled his head down to hers, pressing her lips to his. Heat surged through his body as he pulled her against him. Kadar groaned, running his hands through her soft golden hair. To his shock and delight, her hands explored his chest and dipped farther down.

“Hello? Anyone here?” a voice called, and Farrah stepped away from him with a gasp and a little giggle. Kadar was grateful for the dimness so he could adjust his robes and get his body under control.

Kadar took a deep breath and let it out before opening the large front doors to admit the large cart and ox team, closing them securely behind the wagon as it stopped in the open floor.

They stacked and stored the crates, and the driver tipped his cap and gave Kadar a letter before taking his team off to find water and lodging.

Kadar threw back the covers and opened a crate, eager to see the weapons intended for the Forsaken.

Kadar looked up at Farrah, his brow furrowed. “Scythes? Hoes? Did we get the wrong shipment?”

She began sorting the weapons. “No, that's right.”

“Where are the swords? The army will have swords and
feli
, and we're supposed to beat them with farm equipment?” Kadar was horrified.

She looked at him, amused. “And how many Forsaken know how to wield a sword, Kadar? Most of them have been handling scythes all their lives and know how deadly they can be.”

Kadar was more appeased by what was in the crates under the farm equipment: long knives, hunting bows, and large axes, all of better-­than-­average quality.

Satisfied, Kadar turned his attention to the letter the driver had given him.

“It's from Ashraf,” Kadar told Farrah. “He says this is a first load, and to wait to distribute it, as the Hasifels would get in serious trouble if I was caught. He seems to have a plan for how to get these to the Forsaken, but he isn't telling me here.”

She nodded, untieing the binds on the fabric bales. She pulled a long sheet over the crates, tucking around the corners.

“He also asks how Sulis is,” he said with a laugh.

“He's crazy to keep thinking of her,” she said with a smile.

Kadar smiled back. “Almost as crazy as I am for thinking of you?” he asked, hoping his voice sounded teasing.

“Crazier, since he hasn't a chance with Sulis pledged to the Temple,” she said. She looked at him measuringly a moment, then stepped to the door. Kadar was disappointed, thinking she meant to leave, but she locked the door and turned back to him.

“Does that mean I have a chance with you?” Kadar asked softly as she walked deliberately back to him. He didn't want to read more into the swaying of her hips than she intended. He held his breath as she stepped close, not daring to hope.

Farrah smiled, running her hands down his chest, and he lowered his head and kissed her. She put her hands around the back of his neck.

“Kadar,” she said softly by his ear. “Do you want me?”

“How can you doubt it?” Kadar breathed in her ear.

“I want you, too,” she said. “Right now.”

“Now? Here?” Kadar looked around. “It's not exactly private.”

Farrah laughed. “No prying sisters, no aunts and uncles to walk in on us. It's as private as we'll ever find.”

That was enough for him. Not letting go of her waist, he scanned the warehouse. “Hang on a moment.”

He grabbed fabric from the bale and spread it on the dirt floor, beside the crates of weapons. She saw what he was doing and spread another layer on top. Their hands met, and he pulled her down onto the makeshift bed. She laughed, but her eyes were dark and her gaze intent as she looked down at him.

Kadar loosened the ties of her robe and pushed the fabric off her shoulder. He gently kissed her neck, and she gasped as his lips traveled to her breasts. He pulled her down onto the bed on top of him, reveling in the feel of her body against his. His hands tangled her silky hair, pushing it away from her flushed face. Kadar ran his hands down her hips, to the inside of her thigh. The focus on her face turned to pure pleasure as he caressed her.

“More,” she whispered in his ear, to his delight.

Afterward, they curled together, her naked body pressed against him and his arms encircling her.

“You're beautiful,” he murmured, letting his hands caress the softness of her skin.

She responded, hesitantly, “That was nice.”

He chuckled into her hair.

“Just nice?”

She swatted his arm. “You know better.”

“Next time will be better for you,” he promised. “I didn't know you were a virgin.”

She turned to face him, and he admired her figure. “No, it was wonderful,” she said seriously. “Other Forsaken women have told me how painful it is, especially if—­” She broke off, looking away.

“If what?” Kadar asked, sitting up on one elbow to look in her face.

“If I hadn't had a choice,” Farrah said, not meeting his eyes.

“Is that what you were thinking about when we made love? Severin and his bullies?” Kadar asked, pulling away.

Farrah sat up and crossed her arms. “No, Kadar, not really,” she protested.

He gave her a skeptical look.

“It's just, I . . .” she hesitated, looking vulnerable, “I wanted my first time to be my choice. I wanted it to be with someone I trust, someone I care about.”

Kadar fell back against the blankets and ran his hands through his hair, alternately feeling used and powerless, knowing that he couldn't always be there for Farrah.

“Are you angry?” she whispered, and he looked over at her.

“I don't know how to feel,” Kadar admitted. “I really like you, Farrah. I don't want to be just any man to you.”

Farrah's blue eyes opened wide in surprise. “But you aren't just any man to me,” she said. “I thought you knew that. I wanted to know what sex was like, but not with anyone else. I just want you.”

Kadar sighed and shook his head, still feeling conflicted. But how could he blame her for wanting some control in such a restricted life? She ran her hand over his shoulder, and he looked into her anxious eyes. His heart thawed as he saw how tense she'd become.

“Come here,” he said, and pulled her up against him. He kissed her deeply, and she wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his chest.

He was starting to drift off, when voices in the warehouse beside theirs roused Farrah. She sat up with a gasp and started dressing.

“It must be after noon,” she said, as he looked on with bemusement. “I was supposed to be back at the house ages ago! And you've got weapons practice in a candlemark.”

“We could just skip out and stay here the rest of the afternoon,” Kadar suggested, not moving.

Farrah threw his robe in his face. “Get up, lazybones,” she teased, standing. She jerked the blankets from under him, and he rolled to his feet and started dressing.

They threw their blankets over the crates. Kadar pulled Farrah close for one last kiss at the door, then locked it behind them as they stepped out into the dazzling sunlight. He whistled the entire way back to the house. But this time Farrah didn't seem to mind.

K
ADAR WASN'T
WHISTLING
as he came back from weapons practice later that afternoon. He was frowning, trying to figure out his place among the men taking lessons. And trying to understand Severin's attitude, alternately haughty and cold when he was with first-­circle men, and warmer, more open when he was alone with Kadar or with the lower-­circle men. Kadar didn't especially want Severin or the other young men as friends, but it would help if he understood what was going on with the group. He knew he was well respected, especially after that display with Sulis and the gelding. But the other men seemed uneasy with Kadar, as though they were still trying to tell where he stood with Severin.

The house was quiet when Kadar arrived. He had to search for his aunt and uncle and found them in serious discussion in the dining area. They looked up when he walked in.

“Farrah's sister, Ava, is missing,” Aunt Raella told him. “She stopped by here earlier today, on her way to run errands, and disappeared shortly after. Her mother just sent a message that she never returned home.”

“She dropped off two of her drawings for me to sell,” Uncle Tarik said, pushing them toward Kadar. “I should have sent Simon with her, to make sure she got back home safely . . .” He broke off and looked down, shaking his head.

Aunt Raella put her hand on Tarik's shoulder. “She's been running in and out of these neighborhoods since she was a tiny girl. You couldn't know.”

Kadar examined Ava's drawing of the Temple of the One. Every detail was crisp and sharp. “What are we doing to find her?” he asked.

“Farrah is visiting Ava's favorite merchants, hoping she's just talking and forgot the time,” Uncle Tarik said. “I've sent the boys out looking for any clue as to where she might have gone.”

“Or more likely, where someone might have taken her,” Aunt Raella said grimly, “though I doubt it will do any good if we find out.”

Kadar sat down on a bench, thinking rapidly. “We could send a messenger to Voras. One of the soldiers could track her easily,” he said. He was puzzled when they shook their heads.

“The Forsaken have no rights, Kadar—­especially when against circle families. Voras won't stir himself for a Forsaken girl, and we'll just draw attention to ourselves,” Aunt Raella told him.

“But she's only twelve,” Kadar said, aghast. “You can't think someone took her to hurt her.”

“She wouldn't be the first,” Uncle Tarik said grimly.

“What can we do?” Kadar asked, feeling helpless.

“We wait. And see what we find out,” Aunt Raella said.

Kadar's cousins came back, reporting that Ava had been seen with two third-­circle men. This news was greeted with silence, and his aunt's eyes filled with tears before she ducked into the kitchen.

Kadar kept his eyes out for Farrah through the evening, but didn't see her return to the house. He went up the stairs to his bedroom, his mind full. He didn't realize someone was sitting on his bed until he was halfway into the room.

Farrah looked up at him, her eyes rimmed with red.

“What am I supposed to do?” she whispered, her voice hoarse from crying. “I've looked everywhere. I didn't protect her, Kadar. I should have been here, instead of at the warehouse with you.”

He gathered her in his arms. “You can't be everywhere, Farrah. She's run errands by herself dozens of times. Had you been there, they might have taken you, too,” he said, kissing the top of her head as she rested it against his chest.

“It should have been me,” she whispered. “I wish it were me. What are they doing to her, Kadar? I can't do this, I can't survive this.”

She cried into his robe, and he held her, unable to comfort her. He held her into the night, with her curled up in his bed and his arms around her until she fell asleep. He stayed awake long into the night, stroking her hair and wondering how he could protect the ­people he loved.