On Fire’s Wings by Christie Golden Page B

a quick prayer to the Dragon who lived in its heart, and asked that it would be in a forgiving mood when he spoke to his father.
    There were eight of them riding out to hunt today: Jashemi and Tahmu, Tahmu’s Second, Halid, and five servants. Two would ride with them and assist in the hunt, dressing the animals that their lord and his son were certain to bring down, while the other three would set up a camp and have shade, cool drinks, and meals ready for the hunters during the heat of the day.
    With the exception of Sahlik—who was the exception to so many things—Jashemi had never really paid much attention to his servants. He had never been unkind to them—his father would not permit abuse of servants and besides, it was not in Jashemi’s nature to be cruel—but he had never truly thought of them as people, as he and his parents and Halid were people. Now he watched them from under long lashes, trying to remember their names, if they had families.
    â€œYou are quiet today, my son,” Tahmu said, bringing his mount alongside Jashemi’s.
    â€œI…do not have much to say, Father,” Jashemi replied. His face burned at the lie. He had quite a bit to say, but he wanted to talk privately. “Perhaps we can speak later…just the two of us?”
    Tahmu’s dark, wise eyes roamed his son’s face. He sighed, looking somehow older than he had a moment ago.
    â€œOf course. When the scouts leave to flush the quarry.”
    Jashemi looked at Halid, who was riding not far away. Tahmu’s Second was a fixture in Jashemi’s life. He sat straight in the saddle, a mountain of a man, with a thick black beard and long, wavy hair that was presently covered by a white kerchief. If anything happened to Tahmu before Jashemi came of age to inherit, Halid would assume leadership of the Clan. Halid was as familiar a presence in Jashemi’s life as his father, but this was not even for his ears. Jashemi would speak to Tahmu about something much more personal than leadership of the Clan.
    Some time later, one of the scouts hurried back. “I have spotted a herd at the base of the mountains.”
    â€œExcellent, Dumah. Send them round.” Tahmu licked a finger and lifted it in the air, testing the wind’s direction. “We will fan out in case they bolt. Halid, circle around to the right. Jashemi, you and I will head south. Hua, hua!”
    He kicked the sa’abah and the great beast lurched into action, lowering its head and flattening its ears. Its tail curled over its back, providing shade for both mount and rider. Jashemi followed his father’s lead, kicking his own sa’abah and crouching on its long neck. Tahmu rode well out of hearing range of the others, and then brought his mount to a walk.
    â€œSpeak,” said Tahmu. “We have several minutes before the liah are flushed.”
    Jashemi opened his mouth. He had been rehearsing this since last night. He would be reasonable, eloquent, calm. He would behave like an adult.
    What tumbled from his lips was, “Kevla is your daughter! How could you betray Mother like this?” He clamped his mouth shut, cursing himself.
    Strangely, Tahmu did not grow angry. The khashim sighed. “I am sorry you saw her. She ought to have been veiled.”
    â€œThat doesn’t matter! Why did you—?”
    Tahmu’s head jerked around and he glared at his son. “Did you not notice that Kevla is older than you? I have never betrayed your mother, Jashemi, never!”
    â€œBut…she is so little….”
    â€œShe is small and thin because she has been raised in poverty as the daughter of a halaan, ” said Tahmu, bitterness creeping into the words. “I did not even know of her existence until recently. It was Sahlik who spotted her, dancing on a street corner and crying her mother’s—”
    He broke off and looked away, his throat working. “Let me tell you a story.