Racham stared at the patterns in the tent walls, trying and failing to drown out the droning of the Tribesmen around him. Each was trying to outdo the others by promising more camels or horses for the great army. Their voices were beginning to grate at his nerves.
After another hour of bickering and arguing between the Tribe Heads, Racham could take it no longer. “OUT! All of you out! If you can’t talk to each other civilly then you have no right to keep your heads!”
Needless to say the royal tent was empty within seconds.
Racham threw his head back on the soft cushions and groaned loudly. “Imad! IMAD! Where are you?” When there was no answer, Racham pointed at the guard closest to him. “Bring Imad to me now!”
The guard bowed deeply and strode out the tent entrance purposefully.
The King shifted among his cushions until he was comfortable and sighed contentedly. There was nothing so wonderful as relaxing in his cool tent against the sand and wind. It was beginning to pick up outside and he loved the sound of it hitting the thick walls.
Imade opened the tent flap followed closely by the guard and a young woman. The guard resumed his post. Imad bowed deeply to the King, “You called, your Majesty?”
But Racham was looking at the girl. She was fair, much fairer than he was used to seeing among his kinsman. Her skin was splotchy and red from the sun, she blinked frequently, irritated by the glare of the sun and sand. Her hair was a reddish brown, poking out of the veil she wore. He noticed that the topmost layer had been bleached slightly from exposure to the sun. Her eyes were a dark green, that seemed to change in the light to a blue-grey.
The girl was staring back with equal curiosity. Her eyes roved around the room and the King, taking in everything with a quiet stillness. She seemed tense.
Imad watched the two, and his frown deepened.
Racham dragged his eyes back to Imad. “Does she speak the Words of the Desert?”
“No, your Majesty, only Alstearian. I’m afraid it will be very difficult for her while she is here.” Imad glanced back at the girl with contempt and pity all in one.
The girl spoke quietly to Imad. “Is that the King? What is he saying?”
Imad whirled on her and struck her across the cheek. “DO NOT SPEAK IN FRONT HIS MAJESTY!” She fell to the floor a hand to her cheek, the veil and come off and Racham could see the pain, surprise and betrayal in her eyes and set of her mouth.
She was beautiful.
Racham blinked and looked down. He was standing and breathing heavily. How did this happen? Quickly he sat and positioned himself comfortably on his side.
Imad lowered his voice and helped her fix her veil. “You must NEVER speak in front of a man besides myself. Only speak when spoken to, you are a slave and do not have the right to speak. Do you understand? According to the Law of the Desert you could be executed for the crime you just committed, hopefully the King will see this punishment as enough.”
Racham bristled at the thought of executing the girl for something so trivial. I would never do something so childish. He thought obstinately, but in the back of his mind he reviewed several accounts when he had executed men and women for childish reasons.
The girl was holding back tears of pain and shock. She nodded at what Imad had said and kept her eyes down, fear and terror were barely hidden behind them. It made his heart ache. He wanted her to feel at home, to love the desert as he did.
Racham cleared his throat and tried to sound kingly, speaking in his native tongue. “What is it Imad?”
Imad blinked twice in confusion. “Sire, I thought you had summoned me?”
“Ah, so I did. I wanted to know how the... the uh... the Umed tribe is coming. Weren’t we supposed to receive an answer by today?”
Imad bowed in apology. “Yes, your Majesty, but the wind has picked up. I feel a storm coming, it is unlikely that any messenger will try to travel through it.”
Racham’s eyes flashed in annoyance. “Couldn’t you just get rid of the storm, Imad? I thought you were a Shaman?”
“Yes, Majesty, but it is tiring to control the weather and it can have catastrophic results. Surely you remember the drought we had only a decade ago?” Imad reminded gently.
Racham huffed in impatience. “I just wish we could be done with all of this. I’m sick of having the Tribemen talk off my ears with their arguing and complaints of each other.” His eyes found the girl’s. She had been staring with an expression he couldn’t read.
“What do you plan on doing with her, Imad?”
Imad turned to look at the girl, who guiltily dropped her eyes. “As I am one of the few who can actually speak to her, I was thinking of making her one of my personal slaves. What think you, Majesty?”
Jealousy seared through Racham’s chest, but he held his peace. Of all people. he didn’t want Imad knowing how much he wanted the girl. of how intrigued he was. Imad would never say out loud, but his eyes would do all the talking. He would think less of Racham, think that he was weak for liking a Alstearian wench.
Possessiveness within him fought to claim the girl. One word and she would be his personal slave. Racham’s gaze met Imad’s and for a few moments he mentally ran through what would occur if he followed his desires.
Finally he waved a hand dismissively, “Fine, she is yours. It is only logical. Inform me when the Umed Tribe messenger arrives. I will be here.” He informed Imad, as if he was a busy man with many other places to visit.
“As you command, your Majesty.” With a final bow Imad guided the girl out of the tent and went back to his work.
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