Desert Rising (5 page)

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.

K
A
D
A
R
F
E
L
T
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.