leaves of the surrounding bushes, sparked no terrors. Not in these settled lands, where a gazelle would be lucky to survive—though he was no more afraid in the mountains, where jackal packs roamed, just a bit more careful.
Even the sound of hoofbeats on the road didn’t worry him, for they weren’t trotting, like a troop of guards trying to catch up with a miscreant; but plodding, like travelers who were using the full moon to push on an extra league or two.
It didn’t surprise him when the sound of the hoofbeats stopped at the riders’ sight of his fire. And reaching for his sturdy staff, transferring it from his right hand to his left, was a normal precaution.
“Hello, the camp.” The deep voice was genial, even friendly, but the accent was pure deghan. Kavi stifled a curse. The last thing he wanted was to share his camp with a party of deghans—and they’d take his hospitality, whether he offered it or not. In all fairness, if their places had been reversed, the deghans would have offered him shelter without hesitation. Hospitality was a point of honor with them. Of course, it was easy to be hospitable when you had money.
“May we come to your fire?”
As if he had a choice? Kavi could see the rider who led the party now. His clothes were modest for one of his class, but only the richest of nobles could afford that horse.
“Come and be welcome.” Kavi tried to sound friendly instead of resigned. Fighting with deghans was a losing proposition.
There were a lot of them too, he noted as they moved into the firelight. The servants had a somewhat military air, and several of the men looked very like soldiers; but there weren’t enough weapons for this to be any sort of army troop, and the only charger present was the one the deghan in command was riding. There were even a couple of young deghasses, with their maids in tow, as well as an older man in the severe black robes of a temple priest.
The last two members of the party made Kavi’s eyes widen. They were clad in bright-striped, hooded robes. With their hoods up, they might have been taken for lower servants—or even servants’ children, for they were smaller than the teenage deghasses. But in the darkness their hoods lay around their shoulders, revealing skin as white as moonlight and hair as pale as their skin. As white as a djinn’s. Suud tribesmen. Or, rather, a tribesman and a tribeswoman. Kavi had seen the Suud bargaining in the markets, trading exquisitely woven baskets for cloth and iron goods. The credulous said they had a djinn’s powers, as well as their coloring. But that had to be nonsense—no one with magical powers would live that poor. Were they returning to their tribe in the desert beyond the mountains and had joined the deghan’s cavalcade for an escort? It was none of his business, but Kavi had never had an opportunity to talk to a Suud, and he was curious.
In fact, the whole party was a bit odd. Kavi sat by the fire and watched pavilions go up, glowing like lamps themselves as lamps were lit within them. He couldn’t help but notice, as the servants bustled back and forth, that his own humble bedroll was pushed farther and farther from the fire, till it lay beside the bushes under which he’d placed his packs.
Duckie, on the other hand, was added to the herd of lesser horses and pack mules and led off to be tethered where the grazing was better. The grooms just assumed his permission, Kavi noted sourly. Though when they added his mule to their herd, one of them had checked to make certain Duckie’s hobbles weren’t too tight and he had nodded his approval. And, in fact, Duckie now had access to better grass, better water, and the company of her own kind, and she’d be guarded by the groom who took the watch. It would be foolish for Kavi to object.
He mellowed a bit more when a servant woman, who’d set up a tripod over the fire and hung a teakettle, asked if he’d like to share the camp’s meal. A good meal would
Even the sound of hoofbeats on the road didn’t worry him, for they weren’t trotting, like a troop of guards trying to catch up with a miscreant; but plodding, like travelers who were using the full moon to push on an extra league or two.
It didn’t surprise him when the sound of the hoofbeats stopped at the riders’ sight of his fire. And reaching for his sturdy staff, transferring it from his right hand to his left, was a normal precaution.
“Hello, the camp.” The deep voice was genial, even friendly, but the accent was pure deghan. Kavi stifled a curse. The last thing he wanted was to share his camp with a party of deghans—and they’d take his hospitality, whether he offered it or not. In all fairness, if their places had been reversed, the deghans would have offered him shelter without hesitation. Hospitality was a point of honor with them. Of course, it was easy to be hospitable when you had money.
“May we come to your fire?”
As if he had a choice? Kavi could see the rider who led the party now. His clothes were modest for one of his class, but only the richest of nobles could afford that horse.
“Come and be welcome.” Kavi tried to sound friendly instead of resigned. Fighting with deghans was a losing proposition.
There were a lot of them too, he noted as they moved into the firelight. The servants had a somewhat military air, and several of the men looked very like soldiers; but there weren’t enough weapons for this to be any sort of army troop, and the only charger present was the one the deghan in command was riding. There were even a couple of young deghasses, with their maids in tow, as well as an older man in the severe black robes of a temple priest.
The last two members of the party made Kavi’s eyes widen. They were clad in bright-striped, hooded robes. With their hoods up, they might have been taken for lower servants—or even servants’ children, for they were smaller than the teenage deghasses. But in the darkness their hoods lay around their shoulders, revealing skin as white as moonlight and hair as pale as their skin. As white as a djinn’s. Suud tribesmen. Or, rather, a tribesman and a tribeswoman. Kavi had seen the Suud bargaining in the markets, trading exquisitely woven baskets for cloth and iron goods. The credulous said they had a djinn’s powers, as well as their coloring. But that had to be nonsense—no one with magical powers would live that poor. Were they returning to their tribe in the desert beyond the mountains and had joined the deghan’s cavalcade for an escort? It was none of his business, but Kavi had never had an opportunity to talk to a Suud, and he was curious.
In fact, the whole party was a bit odd. Kavi sat by the fire and watched pavilions go up, glowing like lamps themselves as lamps were lit within them. He couldn’t help but notice, as the servants bustled back and forth, that his own humble bedroll was pushed farther and farther from the fire, till it lay beside the bushes under which he’d placed his packs.
Duckie, on the other hand, was added to the herd of lesser horses and pack mules and led off to be tethered where the grazing was better. The grooms just assumed his permission, Kavi noted sourly. Though when they added his mule to their herd, one of them had checked to make certain Duckie’s hobbles weren’t too tight and he had nodded his approval. And, in fact, Duckie now had access to better grass, better water, and the company of her own kind, and she’d be guarded by the groom who took the watch. It would be foolish for Kavi to object.
He mellowed a bit more when a servant woman, who’d set up a tripod over the fire and hung a teakettle, asked if he’d like to share the camp’s meal. A good meal would
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