Desert Rising by Kelley Grant Page A

gelding’s chest for moisture, hoping she seemed calmer on the outside than she felt on the inside. This was the first time at the Temple her story had been tested, and she was suddenly aware of the holes in it. “I was adopted,” she said—­which was technically true—­and quickly changed the subject. “I think Starfire is dry and ready to be stabled now.”
    Aggie laid a hand on Sulis’s arm as Sulis began to lead the gelding away. Sulis looked back at her.
    â€œBe careful, Sulis,” she urged, her brow furrowed. “Things aren’t all what they seem here. Don’t get caught in the middle, as Iamar did. Remember, you have friends in certain places, but you will be watched because of where you come from.”
    Aggie turned and walked swiftly to the stables, with Sulis staring after her. Did she mean that the acolytes of Aryn, like Aggie was, were Sulis’s friends, or that another sect supported her? The gelding tossed his head, and Sulis patted his neck and led him to the stables.
    Greta was waiting for her when she finished rubbing down the gelding and gave him to the stable boy. Sulis looked around for Djinn, but he had sprawled in the sun with a second feli grooming him, and it did not seem that he would be moving anytime soon. Sulis shrugged and followed the other woman, thinking he probably knew the way to the Temple better than she did.
    There was more of a crowd on the way back as pilgrims hurried to reach the Temple before midmeal. Sulis was scanning the crowd for a familiar face when she was pushed hard in the back. She stumbled and fell as a leg appeared in front to trip her. The brick walkway scraped her hands as she caught herself.
    She felt a hand reach into the pocket of her robe and she opened her mouth to let out an indignant yell. A voice in her ear stopped her.
    â€œGotcha, Su’,” Kadar’s voice said, and she turned to see him smile and disappear into a crowd of similarly brown-­cloaked individuals.
    She climbed to her feet, wincing at the bruises on her knees and hands and aware of the crowd of pilgrims parting around her, staring curiously.
    â€œThat horrible creature, rushing out of nowhere,” Greta said furiously. “He ought to be in chains.”
    â€œI’m sure it was an accident,” Sulis said serenely, patting her pocket as though brushing off dust. It crinkled, indicating a letter inside. She smiled to herself.
    â€œThose animals shouldn’t even be permitted around the Temple,” Greta replied.
    â€œThen how would they get inside to do all the dirty work? You’d have to clean the washroom yourself,” Sulis reminded her.
    The woman pursed her lips. “I’m reporting this to Voras’s altar,” she said stubbornly, and refused to speak to Sulis the rest of the walk.
    That suited Sulis fine, and she parted with the woman in the entrance hall. She walked through the crowd in Parasu’s altar without seeing faces and into the courtyard, looking for a private place to sit and read her letter. She was glad to see that she was early, and Jonas and Lasha had not yet arrived. A private bench sat off the main path by a bubbling fountain, and she sat on its cold marble with a sigh.
    The letter crinkled when she pulled it out, and she realized it had been written on the back of paper a vendor would wrap food in. In fact, the charcoal pencil disappeared in a ­couple of grease spots. Kadar must have been in a hurry, Sulis thought as she began to read.
    Su,
    I wanted to speak to you, but you’ve got a ­couple of dogs on your tail in pink and red, so I had to write you a note. Uncle’s keeping me busy learning the Illian rules of trade, hoping to keep me out of whatever trouble he thinks we’re planning. The Temple told us you’d been paired, and Ashraf Nasirof came and yelled at us for letting you go. He’s hired our caravans, and Uncle is pleased. A lot’s at