Daughter of Wolves

Chapter 7

We emerged the next morning into a different world. The sun was rising into a cloudless sky of deep turquoise; everything sparkled, vibrant and washed clean by the rain. The cave by contrast seemed musty and dismal, and I was glad to escape into the fresh air. We ate our breakfast outside, a dish of lentils covered with water and left to cook overnight in the ashes of our fire in my new kettle.

Since we only possessed one spoon between us, Kiarash handed this over with a courteous flourish for me to help myself first. "How I'm looking forward to getting back to civilisation," he said when it was his turn, stirring the brown mush without much enthusiasm. "And proper food."

"You promised me a visit to a teahouse," I reminded him.

He brightened up. "I know just the one. You'll love it, they have a pond in their garden and all the tables are on little islands, connected by arched bridges."

I found that difficult to imagine. Before I had run away, I had never even seen the kind of small tavern that the caravansaries on the trade road boasted.

Kiarash was lost in memories anyway. "Mind you, if you want to taste the best dumplings of Kharshaan, you have to go to the Capering Carp." He sighed. "But I suppose it wouldn't be suitable."

"Why not?"

"Well, you're a noblewoman now, aren't you." Kiarash grinned. "The Capering Carp caters to a very different clientele. Not really appropriate company for a lady mage."

"I doubt Behzad was suitable company," I pointed out dryly. The more I heard about it, the less I liked the idea of becoming a Sikhandi noble.

Kiarash laughed. "Very true. Perhaps we can smuggle you out of your temple occasionally, disguised in your Khotai clothes, so you can see the more interesting parts of Kharshaan."

I couldn't help noticing that the visit to a teahouse had somehow become several outings. It seemed that Kiarash did not intend to simply wash his hands of me once we had crossed the border, but had even decided to take me under his wing. But why? Out of gratitude for saving his life the day before? Or something else?

The next moment I chided myself for being a fool. I knew nothing about the man. For all I knew, he had one of those elegant, modest Sikhandi beauties waiting for him at home – the sort that their tales acclaimed as the ideal woman – a devoted wife with a bevy of children. And anyway, I wasn't even sure I particularly liked him, let alone wished for him to sit outside my tent. I couldn't help thinking that travelling alone had been considerably simpler. Why had I agreed to his company!

"Shall we be off soon?" I asked.

He concentrated on the lentil stew again. "Yes, we'd better."

I tacked up Shar and afterwards wandered down to a little stream nearby to fill up our water skins and wash my face. When I got back, Kiarash was going through his morning exercises to limber up his muscles. I sat down on a stone warmed by the sun to watch. He was really rather good and though he moved stiffly at first, he worked through the different moves with the kind of natural grace that only years of daily practise imparted.

Among unmarried Khotai girls it was popular to go and look on while the men trained their horses or sparred against each other, but I had always thought it a boring pastime. However, as I sat there warmed by the sunshine and watched Kiarash's sinewy body, I began to get a glimmer of why they might enjoy it.

To distract myself, I loosened my braid and combed through my hair with my fingers in order to plait it again more tidily. That moment Kiarash stumbled over a stone and cursed quietly. When I glanced up in surprise, he wore a look of fierce concentration on his face. Soon afterwards he finished.