The Diviner by Melanie Rawn Page A

up, letting the blanket fall from her shoulders. She had very pretty breasts. “One of my cousins did it, but it was not my time to conceive. If you make a baby for me tonight, then I can say it’s his, and he’ll have to marry me.”
    Women! What mere man could comprehend them? It occurred to him to be insulted that her object was not marriage with him —young, handsome, wealthy Azzad al-Ma’aliq. Young and handsome still but wealthy no longer. He really would have to start remembering that.
    It was a measure of Azzad’s first twenty years of life that he actually considered her proposal. He’d gone without a woman since early autumn—and it was now full winter. And she did have very pretty breasts....
    But it was equally a measure of what had happened to Azzad since the autumn that he shook his head. “Believe me, lady, you are lovely and gracious, and it would be any man’s honor and pleasure to be your husband. But I cannot.”
    She was not fooled by the flattery. Her mirror had schooled her to realism. “Cannot, or will not?”
    â€œBoth,” he answered honestly. “Any children I father, I will raise and teach.” Raised in full knowledge of their noble heritage as al-Ma’aliq and taught to hate Nizzira al-Ammarizzad. Abruptly he wanted such children with all his heart.
    â€œYou will not do this small thing for me?”
    â€œIt is a very great thing, and I’m sure you can find a man more worthy than I.”
    She sighed. “But it must be tonight. If I wait another moon, I will not be believed.” She reached for his groin with all the seductiveness of a gardener reaching to cull spoiled fruit. “You are a man. I am a woman. Do this for me.”
    â€œNo.” He gently took her hand from his body. She examined his face narrowly in the dim light and drew in a long breath as if to sigh once more—but Azzad knew what was coming. He clapped a hand over her mouth and pulled her against his chest. “None of that, now,” he murmured into her lank black hair as she struggled against him. “I will not father your baby, and I will not marry you. But I will tell you how to marry the cousin you love.”
    She tensed in his arms, but stopped fighting him.
    â€œVery good. The way to do it is this. Hide your moon-cloths from everyone, especially your mother. This is possible?”
    She nodded. In Beit Ma’aliq, with servants everywhere, it would have been hopeless. But this girl probably had to wash all her own clothes.
    â€œRun weeping to your parents and say that you fear you are ill, because your moon-days have not come since you journeyed to your uncle’s tents. When they ask if you were alone with any man, deny it—and then weep harder than ever and let slip your cousin’s name. I guarantee that you and he will be married. When next you bleed, it will be thought that you miscarried of the child. But by then you’ll be married, with plenty of chances for another baby. Do you understand?”
    Again she nodded. Azzad cautiously took his hand from her mouth. She stayed quiet, so he let her go.
    â€œI hope you’ll be very happy,” he told her. “Now go back to your bed, and start planning what a fine life you will have with the true father of your children.”
    She slipped away without a word of thanks for his clever solution to her problem. Women ! Azzad lay back, exhaling to the bottom of his lungs and blessing his luck.
    The next day he rode on. Quickly, and alone.
    The landscape changed subtly. Azzad paid so little attention, trusting Khamsin and involved in his own thoughts, that before he knew it, he was riding up toward a forest. Above were truly formidable peaks, hidden until now by the clouds wreathing their heights. Azzad reined in, contemplating the magnificence with pleasure—until he realized he would probably have to cross these mountains. By comparison, the castle of