Red Hood's Revenge (31 page)

“So says the Temple of the Hedge?” Muhazil asked.

Faziya straightened. “Yes.”

Muhazil waved his hand as though brushing away an imagined insect, indicating that he had no interest in continuing the discussion. To Talia, he said, “You wished to speak alone.”

“The Wild Hunt has plagued the Kha’iida in recent times,” Talia said.

“They have pursued us for most of the past season,” Muhazil admitted. “Two tribes have vanished. Three others have been broken and scattered. Fourteen survivors joined our own tribe a month ago. We’ve set out what protections we can to discourage the Hunt’s return.”

Five tribes destroyed. Talia took another sip of coffee, trying to match his composure. Inside, she was shaking. Five tribes meant hundreds, probably thousands of people. “Father Uf’uyan didn’t say it had been so bad.”

“The cities pay little attention to the desert these days,” Muhazil said.

“A mistake that could destroy us all,” answered Talia.

Muhazil leaned forward, setting his cup on the ground. “How so?”

“The Wild Hunt serves a fairy called Zestan-e-Jheg. We believe Zestan is deev.”

“Impossible.” Muhazil started to rise.

“If that were truly impossible, there would be no need for your oath.” Talia looked out at the valley. “You’ve heard the sounds of the Wild Hunt these past nights. What lesser fairy has the power to command them?”

“You think we haven’t considered the possibility?” Muhazil repeated the flicking motion. “The Kha’iida guard Arathea, following the paths of our forefathers to ensure that none of the gates have been opened. Our seers watch for any omen of the deev’s return. When the attacks began, we increased our vigilance. No deev has escaped.”

“That you know of. But why else would she target your people? Which tribe was the first to fall to the Hunt? Perhaps they had discovered evidence of Zestan’s escape.”

“We retraced their paths. There was no such evidence.” Muhazil turned toward the right. To the south, she realized. Toward the mountains of the peri. “For generations we have told stories of the deev. Older children frighten their siblings with tales of deev who lurk in the shadows.” A twist of his lips made Talia suspect he had been one of those younger siblings. “Tell me, have you
seen
this deev? Or are your fears based on nothing more than shadows and stories? Fairy magic is deceptive. Could it be this Zestan wishes you to believe she is deev, to spread fear throughout the cities?”

Faziya leaned forward. “I spent a month in Rajil’s garden, cursed by Zestan’s magic. Draw your knife. Let it taste the curse in my blood.”

Muhazil frowned. “You are a guest here, child. Do not presume—”

“
I
presume.” Talia stood. “You swore an oath to protect this land. So did my father, Hakim Malak-el-Dahshat. As princess of Arathea, I call on you to fulfill that oath.”

Muhazil studied her a long time. “Talia Malak-el-Dahshat. For years we have heard rumors of your fate. Please sit. I will listen to what you say, but I can promise nothing.”

Slowly, Talia lowered herself to the ground. “Faziya faced the raikh of Jahrasima in her own mansion to try to help the Kha’iida.”

Muhazil blinked. “Not the wisest strategy.”

“Not at all,” Talia agreed, earning a glare from Faziya. “My point remains. She
is
Kha’iida. She deserves your respect and your aid.”

“Queen Lakhim has offered a reward for your return,” Muhazil said.

Talia smiled. “Then I’m fortunate you too are Kha’iida, and would not betray the hospitality of a guest.”

That earned a laugh. “Very well, Princess. I will indulge your fears.” He reached into his robe and pulled out a small, bone-handled knife. The blade was a flat shard of crystal, vivid green and shaped as perfectly as Danielle’s sword.

Faziya extended her hand, flinching only slightly as Muhazil cut her palm. He pressed the flat of the blade against her hand, coating the knife in her blood.

Talia clenched her fists. Every drop of blood weakened Faziya further. How much did the knife need?

Finally, Muhazil withdrew the knife. Talia ripped off her scarf and pressed it to Faziya’s palm. Faziya was pale, but watched without blinking as Muhazil held the blade to the light.

He frowned and brought the knife closer. “Strange.”

“Is the curse deev?” Talia asked.

“Were it deev, the blood would smoke at the touch of the crystal,” Muhazil said. His tongue flicked out, tasting the blood. He winced and moved it away. “Blade and blood are hot. Almost hot enough to burn.”

“Which means what?” Talia asked.

“I don’t know.” He held the knife in both hands. “There
is
magic here. More powerful than any mere fairy.” He bowed to them both. “I will talk to our seer.”

“If the curse is deev, will you help us to find the one responsible?” Talia asked.

“We are sworn to fight the deev,” he said. “But whatever foe you face, this magic did not come from one of the cursed race. I’m sorry, Princess.”

T
ALIA SAT IN THE SHADE OF MUHAZIL’S tent, watching a young boy flee from his older brother. The younger child had flung off his robes and giggled madly as he raced toward the pond wearing nothing but his sandals. He splashed into the water, only to be scooped up by his brother.

Screams of delight changed to howls of protest, but the brother clearly had experience in these matters. He tossed the child into the air and caught him. A few more throws, and the boy was giggling once again.

The rugs in the tent softened the approaching footsteps. Faziya lowered herself gently, folding her legs beneath her. She handed Talia a bowl of bread and fresh olives. “Eat.”

Talia popped an olive into her mouth. She spat the pit into her hand and returned it to the bowl, never taking her eyes from the scene below.

“I miss the desert sometimes,” Faziya said. “The open air. Water untainted by fairy magic. The sounds of the animals at night. The city is so crowded, so full of strangers.”

“Yet you’ve stayed in Jahrasima.”

Faziya stared down at the pond. “When I was a child, I watched my mother die of the siphon sickness. Over the course of a single season, her body withered away until she weighed as little as a child. She was tormented by thirst, but her body emptied itself of fluids as quickly as she could drink. I stayed with her, bringing water and anything else I thought might help. Nothing did. She grew more and more tired, until one day she simply failed to awaken. I thought if we had taken her to the Temple of the Hedge, she might have survived.”

Talia placed a hand on Faziya’s back.

“There is no cure for the siphon sickness,” Faziya said, her tone distant. “Having left the tribe, I was massim. A stranger. Many times during my first year at the temple I thought of setting out alone. There are tales of tribeless Kha’iida who wander the desert. But I discovered that even though I couldn’t have saved my mother, there was joy and purpose in saving others.”

“For a long time after I arrived in Lorindar, I used to sneak down to try to use Snow’s magic mirror,” Talia admitted. “Every night I’d try to make it show me Arathea, just so I could see my home again.”

“Did it work?”

“No.” Talia smiled. “I grew so frustrated I threatened to smash the damn thing with an ax. I might have done it if Snow hadn’t caught me.”

She turned to look at Snow and Danielle. With nothing to do while they waited for Muhazil and his seer, they had spent the afternoon helping with the animals. Danielle was helping, at any rate. Under her guidance, camels waited patiently to be milked. Snow was flirting with one of the shepherds, in between translating for Danielle. Snow’s Arathean was painful to Talia’s ear, but from the look on the shepherd’s face, he found her accent charming.

Faziya leaned against her, head resting on Talia’s shoulder. “She’s beautiful, but isn’t she a little old for you?”

Talia tensed and looked away, trying to make the movement a casual one. “Who do you mean?”

“Don’t lie to me, my princess.” Faziya kissed her neck. “I know that look.”

Talia sighed, her face burning. “Snow is younger than me, actually. Her age . . . it’s hard to explain. She and I aren’t—She was the first real friend I made in Lorindar. The only friend, for a long time.”

“But nothing more?” Faziya asked.

“No.”

Faziya pulled away, appearing to weigh this information. “Good.”

Talia smiled and returned her attention to Snow, giving up any pretense of subtlety. “Until last year, she thought I was simply too shy to talk about my liaisons with the men about the palace. Once she learned the truth . . . she’s Allesandrian. Her people are less tolerant about such things.”

“So was Arathea, in olden times.” Faziya kissed her again. “Before the fairies led our society down the path of corruption and perversity.” She pulled away, mischief in her eyes. “That
is
what people in other lands say about us, is it not?”

“Some of them,” Talia admitted. Compared to the dalliances of the fairy race, human couplings were relatively boring.

“She doesn’t like me, does she?” Faziya was watching Snow and Danielle. “Danielle is pleasant to everyone, and your wolf friend doesn’t seem to care one way or the other, but Snow—”

“She’s hurting.” Snow would be furious if she knew Talia was talking to Faziya, but Faziya
was
a trained healer. Perhaps there was something she could do. “Her skull was fractured in a fight. Ever since, using too much magic has caused her tremendous pain. These past days have been difficult for her.”

“That’s dangerous,” said Faziya. “Injuries to the head are unpredictable. The damage can lay hidden for years. There are medicines that might ease the pain, but I wouldn’t suggest them. If she’s anything like you, masking the pain would only lead her to push herself further, doing more damage in the long run.”

“She would,” Talia said. “But trying to get Snow to stop using magic is like trying to get you to leave the desert.”

It was Faziya’s turn to blush. “So what will you do now? Even if Muhazil decides my curse was cast by a deev, they clearly don’t have any better idea than we do where to find Zestan.”

Over the past several hours, Danielle, Snow, and even Roudette had come by to ask the same question. Talia gave Faziya the same answer she had given them. “I’m not sure.”

“Liar.” She smiled, but her eyes were sad. “You’d never be so calm if you didn’t know what to do next. You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

She knew better than to try to lie to Faziya. “You heard what the Wild Hunt has done to your people. If Rajil is any example, the fairies already hold sway in the cities. I can’t let Zestan take Arathea.”

“I could come with you.”

“You can barely walk!”

Faziya took Talia’s arm, running her fingers up the sleeve until she touched the scar on Talia’s forearm. “You make a habit of collecting scars and broken bones. You could use an extra healer. I could take some of the burden off of your friend Snow.”

“Any healer would tell you to stay behind until you’ve healed.”

“Will you make Snow remain as well? You’ve always tried to protect me, as though I were some fragile butterfly who would be crushed by the slightest weight.” She stood and reached for the ties holding the tent flaps open. She glanced over her shoulder, her smile taking the edge from her words. “Maybe I should let you judge for yourself how recovered I am.”

The front flap fell shut, and Talia’s breathing quickened. “This is Muhazil’s tent. Even if you were well, we shouldn’t—”

“We’re guests of the tribe,” Faziya said. “His home is your home. To treat it otherwise would offend him.”

Slowly, she reached out to loosen Talia’s hair. Her fingers trailed down the sides of Talia’s neck. Despite the heat, Talia shivered.

Faziya drew back, a playful expression on her face. “I might need help getting out of these robes, though.”

“You’re hurt.” Talia swallowed, forcing herself not to reach out. “I shouldn’t.”

“I’m the healer. I’ll judge what’s best for my recovery.” Faziya laughed. “I love the way your voice goes deeper when your passions are roused.”

Talia was fighting a losing battle, and she knew it. Not that she particularly wanted to win. “You’re certain you’re strong enough?”

Faziya leaned close, her lips brushing Talia’s as she whispered, “There’s only one way to find out.”

 

Roudette crossed the camp, ignoring the dogs that barked and followed at a distance. Only when one approached too closely did she turn to face it. She said nothing, simply staring into his eyes until he yelped and fled.

The rest continued to bark, albeit from a safe distance. When she reached Snow and Danielle, she said only, “Muhazil has emerged.”

Muhazil and an older Kha’iida woman were already talking to Talia by the time Roudette and the others arrived.