"Kilgore's bloody balls. No." Harley fought to control his horse.
Barkley looked ill, but he didn't say anything.
K'lrsa rode Fallion forward as man and horse slid to an abrupt halt before them. She wanted a closer look at the magnificent horse. It was the first time in days she'd seen someone who actually knew how to ride properly, and on such a beautiful creature. (Second only to Fallion, of course.)
She glanced at the man and froze.
It was him.
It was the young man from her dreams—his eyes that impossible blue color she hadn't believed could be real, his skin even more golden brown than she'd remembered.
He smiled, his face alight with joy. He was breathing heavily, still recovering from the race across the plain.
"Beautiful," he said.
K'lrsa shivered, her body answering the call of his voice, remembering all those nights they'd come together in the Moon Dance, bodies pressed close as they moved across the desert sands.
She didn't know what to say. She hadn't really believed he was real; now here he was.
But who was he? What did this mean?
She didn't know what to do, so she focused on his horse instead, urging Fallion forward. "Is your horse an Amalanee like my Fallion?"
The man nodded, turning his horse so he continued to face her. "Yes. Figures the woman of my dreams would also have an Amalanee horse. Did you know they're supposed to be able to fly?"
She laughed, unable to suppress the thrill she felt at being so close to him. "Well, I don't know about yours…" She pretended to look for wings on his horse. "But Fallion certainly doesn't."
The man answered her laughter with his own. "Neither does my Midnight. But I keep hoping. He is the fastest horse I've ever seen."
"Not faster than Fallion."
The young man grinned at her, riding his horse even closer. "Care to see?"
"Absolutely." K'lrsa gathered Fallion's reins in her hand, but the woman who'd been chasing after the young man joined them and he sat back, a chagrined grin on his face.
"Badru, pzah! Don't you dare ride away from me like that again."
The woman was old, her face lined with wrinkles, but still tall and proud. She had the coloring of the tribes, making K'lrsa wonder just how many tribeswomen lived in the Daliphate. She'd never known of any woman who'd left the tribes.
"What were you thinking? You can't just ride off like that." She cuffed him lightly. Her lips squeezed together like she'd been sucking on bitter root for the past decade.
"Grandmother, it's fine. Midnight needed the run. And you know no one else can keep up with him when he has his full head. But look! Another Amalanee horse."
The woman turned her attention to K'lrsa, her shrewd gaze stopping on the everen feather in K'lrsa's hair, the stone around her neck, and the quiver of arrows strapped to her back. (Harley had insisted on the latter even though there was no way K'lrsa could reach them. "To complete the look," he'd said. Idiot.)
"Hm. Is that so?" She slowly rode her horse around Fallion, and then reached out to rub at the mark on his forehead as if it would come off on her thumb. "Well, at least the horse is real."
K'lrsa stared at the woman's hands. The top joint of each thumb and each finger were missing. That couldn't be an accident.
What had this woman done for someone to maim her so?
K'lrsa backed Fallion up. "Don't."
The woman raised one eyebrow at her, but didn't speak.
K'lrsa glanced at Harley, wondering why he hadn't ridden forward to proclaim her a desert princess like he had with every other person they'd passed for the last week, but he was frozen in his saddle, mopping at his sweating brow as he watched the woman.
Barkley too looked like he'd rather be anywhere but where he was.
Reginald, however, wasn't affected by whatever had frozen the other two men. "My apologies, grandmother." He bowed from the saddle. "These desert savages don't have any manners. This girl here is a desert princess, brought from the far tribal lands." He turned his smile on Badru. "We'll be selling her off to the Gilded Lily today if you care to drop in and have a taste."
Badru stared at Reginald with wide eyes. K'lrsa didn't have time to think about why, because the old woman snorted. "A desert princess, huh? Is that so?"
Once more she slowly looked K'lrsa up and down, this time with a slight sneer on her face. "Harley, what manner of foolishness is this? Did you honestly expect to pass this girl off as something she isn't?"
Harley licked his lips as he ran his horse's reins through his hands over and over again. "Omala, please. She…she is a desert princess. As much as they have princesses in the desert."
"Is that so?" The woman glanced at K'lrsa. "I doubt she's even a member of the tribes. Probably just the unwanted bastard child of a tribesman."
"How dare you!" K'lrsa rode Fallion forward, forcing the woman to acknowledge her. "I'm K'lrsa dan V'na of the White Horse Tribe and I'm a Rider. Who are you?"
The woman smirked at her. "One smart enough not to be trying to pawn myself off as a princess. If you're a Rider, prove it. Draw an arrow. I'll give you a target."
K'lrsa glared at her, but didn't move.
"I said draw an arrow, girl." Her voice lashed at K'lrsa.
K'lrsa raised her chin. "I can't. You know as well as I do that it would be impossible in this outfit."
The old woman nodded with a slight smirk on her face. "Exactly."
Harley rode forward and clutched at the woman's arm. "Omala, please. It wasn't a lie. We just dressed her up a bit, to help those who wouldn't recognize what she is otherwise." He gestured at K'lrsa. "She's first daughter of a first daughter going back to the founding of the tribes. See her stone?"
The woman threw her head back and laughed, the sound like rocks grating together. She turned on K'lrsa. "So you lied to him? Is that what happened?" She rode closer and flicked the cold, dead stone around K'lrsa's neck. "Let me guess. He captured you and you didn't want to be sold like a common slave, so you told him a lie about being a first daughter of a first daughter?"
She looked back at Harley, shaking her head. "The girl lied to you, Harley. She's nothing. No one. Now leave Toreem before I have you killed."
She turned her horse towards the group of riders who had almost reached them. "Come, Badru. Time to return."
She rode away, not looking back.
With one glance at K'lrsa, Badru followed.
Chapter 45
"Let's go." Harley turned his horse and started back towards Boradol. Barkley was right on his heels.
K'lrsa and Reginald stared at one another, actually on the same side for once. Why turn back just because one old woman told them to?
"Now." Harley snarled back at them.
Reginald shrugged and reached for Fallion's reins, but K'lrsa jerked away from him.
No. It couldn't end like this. Not when she was within reach of the city walls.
She rode after the old woman and Badru. "Wait. Take me with you."
The old woman reined her horse around. "You really are a fool, aren't you? You lie to Harley, you trick him into bringing you to the one place he should've never returned to, and now, what? You think that you can use your looks to beguile Badru?" She shook her head. "No. I won't allow it."
Badru rode his horse back to them. "This is the one I've dreamt of grandmother. The one I danced the Moon Dance with. I think we're destined for one another."
The woman laughed. "And what god do you think sent that dream, Badru? Which god hates you so much they would send you a trumped up desert princess with a fake moon stone?" She shook her head. "If you've dreamt of this girl, it was the work of the Trickster. Little scheming brat that he is, I'm sure he's sitting somewhere right now laughing his fat little belly off."
K'lrsa flushed with anger, her hands balling into fists. "I am a first daughter."
"Are you? And that pretty little stone around your neck is a moon stone? And that feather in your hair, w
hat is that? A secret tool for making your Amalanee horse fly?"
K'lrsa sat up as straight as she could, glaring across at the woman. "The feather is some ridiculous woman's idea of what a desert princess should wear. As is the dress. But I am a first daughter, and I did have a real moon stone until I gave it away."
"Pzah. No woman gives her moon stone away. And no Rider lets herself be taken captive."
K'lrsa clenched her teeth. "Sometimes we have no choice."
"There's always a choice." The woman looked her up and down once more. "Maybe you weren't a very good Rider."
K'lrsa ground her teeth together as she fought the urge to hit the woman. The old hag laughed and signaled to Badru that it was time to leave.
K'lrsa grabbed her reins. "Please. Help me. If I leave with these men, they'll kill me."
The woman slapped her hand away. "I doubt that." She glanced past K'lrsa and made eye contact with Harley as she raised her voice. "Harley's a smart man, most of the time. I'm sure he'll realize that he should sell you in Boradol for whatever he can. You're still pretty if nothing else."
Badru looked like he was about to say something, but the rest of his group arrived and stopped a short distance away.
A man in yellow rode forward. "Herin. We have a messenger from the palace…"
The man didn't have a chance to finish his sentence, because K'lrsa talked over him. "Herin? You're Herin?"
She glared at the man. "To some who forget themselves. Yes."
The man flinched away from her, bowing his head.
K'lrsa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She had no choice. "Then, Herin dan G'la of the Summer Spring Tribe, I call on our blood tie and ask that you shelter me."
For one moment, K'lrsa thought the woman would kill her. The look in her eyes was certainly enough to kill.
But when she spoke, lazy and casual, the tone of her voice belied the cold, hard anger in her gaze. "You really know nothing of the tribes, do you? Just because I was once of them and your gadja father was, too, doesn't tie us by blood." She started to turn away.
"No. But the blood vow I took with your sister does."
The messenger startled, gaping at them. Badru's hands turned white where they gripped his reins. Barkley made a strangled sound and when K'lrsa turned to look at him his head was bowed as if he'd lost all hope.
Harley looked as if he'd fall right off his horse.
Herin ignored K'lrsa and turned her grel-like gaze on Harley instead. "I told you never to return."
Badru urged his horse forward. "Grandmother? What is this? What is she saying? Is Lodie still alive? How is that possible?"
"Silence." Herin glanced towards the other riders, but only the messenger was close enough to hear the conversation. The others clustered together in small groups, chatting amongst themselves. One man in green sat alone, off to the side.
Herin gestured him over. When he reached her side, she turned back to K'lrsa. "Explain yourself, girl. Now."
K'lrsa tried to hide her trembling. She felt like a hare caught in the sights of a desert hawk with nowhere to hide. "My moon stone. I told you I gave it away. I…I gave it to Lodie, L'dia, so she could escape and find shelter with my tribe. I…I owed her. Ask Harley. She escaped the night we reached Crossroads."
"Is this true, Harley?"
He licked his lips and tried to choke out the words, but failed. Barkley finally answered for him. "Lodie did escape with another slave. She took a horse with her. And K'lrsa did have a moon stone that was also missing the next day."
Herin's lips pressed so tight together that the wrinkles in her face seemed to multiply. She forced a shrug. "So you gave a slave named Lodie a moon stone. How does that make you and me blood?"
K'lrsa flinched at the look in the woman's eyes, but she had to continue. This was her only hope.
"We swore a blood oath before I gave it to her. I made her a sister of my blood so my tribe would take her in. Since hers is gone now."
Herin raised one eyebrow, but didn't say anything, so K'lrsa continued. "Before she left, Lodie told me to ask you for help if I needed to."
"Pzah. Now I know you're lying." Herin shook her head. "My sister, the one once known as Lodie, is dead. She died the same night she poisoned the last Daliph. You can ask any of the hundred men who watched it happen."
The man in green whispered in her ear, and Herin nodded, her eyes moving from K'lrsa to Harley to Barkley to Reginald. And then to the messenger. Harley and the messenger both looked ill.
The old woman continued, "Whoever you met, she wasn't who you think she was. But I can't let these lies spread, either." The man in green rode his horse over to the messenger's side and took his reins away from him.
Herin turned to the waiting riders and called out, "Guards. Take these individuals into custody. If any of them speak so much as a word, kill them. Badru. Come."
Four men in white rode forward to surround them as Herin and Badru rode away, whispering furiously to one another.
K'lrsa looked to Barkley, but he was staring at the space between his horse's ears, looking for all the world like a man who rode to his death.
Harley and Reginald didn't look any better.
What was happening? What had she said?
Chapter 46
They crossed the bridge into Toreem and then immediately cut to the right, away from the main thoroughfare. The guards led them along a narrow path to the end of the city and guided them through a large set of doors—each one twice the height of a man on a horse—cut into the hillside. They left the horses at a large stable just inside the doors, the stalls carved directly into the rock.
When K'lrsa tried to stay behind with Fallion, one of the guards grabbed her arm and dragged her along. Fallion whinnied and bucked at the young slave girl who tried to take his reins.
K'lrsa couldn't speak, but she gave him the signal for calm and he settled down, allowing the girl to lead him away. At least he'd be well-fed—she could smell freshly-cut sweet grass on the cool air.
The guard dragged her down a cold stone corridor, easily wide enough for two wagons to fit abreast. She kept tripping on her long skirts, but the guard didn't slow in the slightest, just dragged her forward by her arm so they kept pace with the others.
She wanted to ask where they were taking her and what was going to happen to Fallion, but when she opened her mouth to speak he gave her such a deadly look she swallowed her questions and focused instead on walking without tripping.
The guards escorted them to the end of the corridor and then down a small narrow passageway, barely wide enough to fit two men abreast. Guttering torches lit the way, casting jumping shadows on the wall. Her escort shoved her forward and followed along behind; he was so large he blocked out all light from the bright, spacious cavern they'd left behind.
Barkley dropped back by her side and squeezed her hand briefly, but kept facing forward, his jaw clenched tight. She knew he meant it for encouragement, but he was shaking too badly to hide his evident fear.
The harsh scent of burning animal fat filled her nostrils. Underneath it she caught the scent of decaying flesh and excrement.
That scent grew stronger as they walked down the passageway.
The passage turned a corner and ended abruptly, opening into a small room. A group of rough-looking men in brown uniforms with red belts sat at a table in the center of the space, playing dice.
Behind them was another passageway, this one devoid of torches and even more narrow than the one they'd left. Faint moans echoed down the passage, but the men at the table didn't seem to hear them.
The room had the rancid smell of days-old sweat layered over the metallic bitterness of blood and the earthy stench of shit.
K'lrsa tried to back away, but bumped into her guard who shoved her back into the room.
"Well, well. What do we have here?" One of the men at the table leaned forward, eyeing her up and down as he spoke. He slowly licked his lips when he met her eyes.
Her guard stepped forward. "Herin wanted these four taken into custody. She said to kill them if they speak. She'll be down for them shortly. Leave 'em be until then."
Another man from the table stood up and came towards them, smiling through blackened teeth. "That so?" He paced back and forth, studying each of them. "Wonder what they have to say that the old bitch wants to hide?" He leaned close to K'lrsa and sniffed.
She stood her ground, glaring back at him.
She wasn't bound; if the man tried to touch her, she'd kill him. She could do that without speaking.
The first man picked up a coin from the table and flipped it in the air, gold catching the light as it spun. "Good question. Anyone willing to share what you know for a golden bevel?"
Reginald snorted. "Hell. I'll tell ya for free."
The man flipped him the coin. "Well, whatcha waitin' for. Out with it."
As Reginald reached for the coin, his escort stabbed him through the back without even a flicker of expression or grunt of effort. Reginald collapsed to his knees, spitting blood before he fell forward on his face, dead.
"Herin said any who talk die." The man wiped the blade off on Reginald's shirt.
The man at the table stood, his chair scraping against the cold stone floor. "I wasn't done talking to that man." He put his hand on his own knife, but didn't unsheathe it.
All around the room, men reached for their knives.
Herin swept into the room, the man in green trailing along behind her. "Seems he was done talking to you, though, doesn't it?"
The men in brown all bowed their heads and murmured something about Omala. All except the man who still had his hand on his knife. He just sneered at Herin. "You don't run this place old woman. The Daliph does. And I run this prison."
Herin grunted. She nodded her head, acknowledging his point, but then she looked to the man in green.
Before K'lrsa, or anyone else, could even realize what was happening, the man who'd spoken was dead, the man in green's knife buried in his eye.
Rider's Revenge (The Rider's Revenge Trilogy Book 1) Page 15