3: Black Blades Read Free Page A

why.
    Jath’ibaye’s expression remained as closed as that of a marble statue, his pale eyes luminous in the night.
    Kahlil felt his skin flushing hotter, an alarming reaction that he couldn’t remember having since his awkward youth. In a sudden panic, Kahlil looked down at his boots as if they had become instantaneously interesting. Slowly, his cheeks cooled.
    When he stole a glance back up to the walkway, Jath’ibaye was escorting Ourath across to the eastern side of the building.
    “You can see the moon flowers blooming from here,” Jath’ibaye was saying. “They originally grew wild in the southern lands but have died out in the last ten years. I’ve found them to have a good effect on soils that have been over-farmed.”
    Jath’ibaye went on describing the properties of weeds and bushes that had apparently died out in the south. The light of Ourath’s lamp grew dimmer. Kahlil strained to hear more, but Jath’ibaye and Ourath had moved too far away. He only caught the low rumble of Ourath’s voice and then nothing else.
    Kahlil stayed put, too shocked by his own reaction to move. It had been inexplicable, unexpected, and humiliating. He’d probably been as red-faced as a bride caught on the chamber pot.
    Time passed, while Kahlil hunched in the darkness feeling juvenile and self-conscious. Even Alidas had never been able to provoke such a reaction from him. He had to be more exhausted than he had thought. Or perhaps it had been the result of being caught spying on two men in such an obviously private exchange.
    Were they really lovers? Last night Ourath had both implied and denied it. Jath’ibaye had seemed cold towards Ourath. Though, in the end, he had given Ourath what he wanted.
    Somewhere in the distance of the greenery Kahlil thought he heard leaves rustling.
    “Runner.” Saimura’s voice broke into his thoughts.
    Kahlil jumped up to face the man.
    “Yes?”
    “I’m sorry to have startled you. I wasn’t sure where you were.” Saimura squinted through the darkness at him. “I thought that Addya lit a lantern for you.”
    “She did, but I was feeling tired so I snuffed it.”
    “I see,” Saimura said. “I came to tell you that Jath’ibaye has retired for the evening.”
    Kahlil didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. He supposed it didn’t matter. “You’ll want me to leave the package with you, then.”
      Kahlil reached for his satchel, but before he could dig the package out, Saimura stopped him.
    “I won’t be taking it.”
    Kahlil scowled. He wasn’t actually going to be asked to come back tomorrow, was he? He wouldn’t do it. He’d just throw the damn package away before he went through this again.
    “Jath’ibaye requested that you be escorted up to his personal chambers and deliver the package to him there.”
     
    Jath’ibaye’s chambers were plain, almost ascetically so. There was a fireplace but no fire. The bare stone floors and walls radiated the night chill. The only light came from an oil lamp on the table and the room smelled of bitter medicinal herbs.
    On the wide bed a roll of bandages lay next to a scalpel. But as Saimura escorted Kahlil into the room, Jath’ibaye snatched both items up and secreted them away in a blackwood box at the bedside.
    He stood immediately and welcomed Saimura with a quick smile. His blonde hair hung loose, and this close, Kahlil could see how sun and weather had streaked it to white in places. He wore no coat now, just reddish work pants, and his white shirt hung open. Kahlil frowned at the white swath of bandages that encircled Jath’ibaye’s broad chest. As if sensing Kahlil’s attention, Jath’ibaye turned his back and buttoned his shirt.
    “That was certainly fast,” Jath’ibaye commented over his shoulder to Saimura.
    “I thought sooner would be better than later.” Saimura looked to the clay teapot and empty cup on the table. Kahlil recognized the scent of yellowpetal blossoms, so often used by northern