6: Broken Fortress by Ginn Hale

Author:Ginn Hale [Hale, Ginn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blind Eye Books
Published: 2011-08-17T14:31:43+00:00

Chapter Sixty

Just as Kahlil belted his trousers, Wah’roa arrived to call upon Jath’ibaye in his private suite. Jath’ibaye stood beside Kahlil, dressed in only the bottom half of his russet long johns; his right hand brushed down Kahlil’s spine in a pleasant, sleepy caress.

But the moment Wah’roa stepped into the room Kahlil felt as aware of Jath’ibaye’s fingertips against his bare back as if hot brands stroked his skin. He jerked away, despite the fact that he knew it only made the two of them look all the more guilty.

Oddly, Wah’roa seemed utterly unconcerned to discover Kahlil and Jath’ibaye standing so close and only half dressed. While Kahlil reflexively scoured his mind for any explanation—other than the obvious—for his nearly nude presence in Jath’ibaye’s rooms, Jath’ibaye displayed no furtive behavior whatsoever.

He yawned and absently scratched his belly.

“You’re not taking any chances on missing him, are you?” Jath’ibaye inquired of Wah’roa.

“I suspected that he might be more interested in visiting the kahlirash compound than listening to you work out the taye seeding schedule.” The kahlirash commander offered Jath’ibaye a smug smile. “Oh, and I saw Gin’yu’s runners behind me on my way up.”

Jath’ibaye sighed heavily but then gave Kahlil a rueful smile. “You two might as well make your break for it. I’m probably going to end up spending most of the day discussing fish stocks on the Silverlake Islands.”

Kahlil quickly finished dressing and then swung the yasi’halaun over his shoulder. Minutes later, runners from the Silverlake District appeared at Jath’ibaye’s door. A group of taye millers from Greenhills followed them. Jath’ibaye offered Kahlil a quick goodbye before returning his attention to the demands of his early morning callers. Kahlil slipped out with Wah’roa.

After taking in the hearty offerings of the kahlirash’im’s mess hall, Kahlil followed Wah’roa past the high wall surrounding the compound’s training grounds. The crisp, cold air smelled of tahldi feed and gun oil. Captains called out fast commands and their troops responded with varying degrees of perfection. In the courtyards just below Kahlil, uniformed ranks of kahlirash’im performed their morning drills. Experienced riders raced through a maze of obstacles, taking out targets with precise shots, while in another courtyard young kahlirash’im practiced loading and firing their rifles in fast succession. Others charged straw dummies with bayonets or gathered around a heavy cannon to observe its maintenance.

Wah’roa pointed out a troop of first-year artillery women. Most of them were young, not even wearing braids yet; their Prayerscars shone like fresh blood on their brows. Their uniforms appeared to be secondhand and faded, but their rifles gleamed as beautifully as the finest gaun’im’s firearms. Despite the all-male training of his own upbringing, Kahlil had to admit that these women handled their weapons with professional speed and determination.

He told Wah’roa as much and the commander looked truly pleased.

“I’d bet my teeth on any one of my girls against those soft, spoiled gaun bastards,” Wah’roa pronounced. Kahlil nodded. With their filed teeth and toned bodies, these women seemed an entirely different breed from the demure, sheltered girls who inhabited so many noble drawing rooms and parlors.

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