Red Hood's Revenge

conceding the point. “What sort of welcome should we expect at hai’ir tel? You’ve never spoken about why you left.”
    Faziya tensed. “I’m not sure. Oath before family. Family before tribe. Tribe before country. Country before self. When I left, I put myself before the rest.”
    Snow glanced over. “Is she saying we might not be welcome? That would have been good to know three days ago.”
    “Oh, no,” said Faziya. “ You will be welcome. ‘None may turn away a stranger in the desert.’ You will be given water and shelter for three days.”
    “What about you?” Talia asked.
    Faziya flicked her fingers, a dismissive motion that passed as a shrug. “If I’m fortunate, I’ll be treated as a stranger.”
    The sound of hoofbeats changed, becoming more solid. The land sloped gradually upward here, and more plants had begun to appear. Talia spotted a bush with red-tipped buds that made her think of paintbrushes dipped in blood. A small lizard sunned himself on one of the branches.
    “Beyond that hill,” Faziya’s hand tightened on Talia’s leg.
    “I just hope they can give us separate tents,” Snow said. “If I have to listen to Roudette chasing rabbits in her sleep again, I’ll go mad.”
    Roudette had already crested the hill up ahead. She trotted back down a short way and began to remove the wolfskin.
    “Oath before family,” Talia repeated, taking Faziya’s hand in hers. “Whatever happened, you followed that rule. Zestan is deev. That’s more important than anything else.”
    “If they believe us,” Faziya said.
    Talia tugged the reins with her free hand, guiding the horse uphill toward Roudette. “I’ll make them believe.”
    By the time they reached the top of the hill, Roudette was human once more. She stood unmoving as the others joined her. “There’s fairy scent, but it’s old. The Wild Hunt probably passed through here a while back. Nothing recent.”
    Below them lay a wide, shallow valley. A pond stretched through the center, rimmed by trees and waist-high grass as green as any garden. A flock of sheep had spread through the valley to graze. Camels gathered near a second, smaller pond farther away. Black rectangular tents were laid out in parallel rows, facing east. Talia guessed there were at least a hundred. Horses were tied between many of the tents.
    Talia unwrapped her scarf to show her face, leaving the top of her head covered. The air felt almost cool on her cheeks after so long riding. To the others, she said, “It’s impolite to enter a stranger’s home with your identity hidden.”
    She waited while Snow and Danielle did the same. Roudette pushed back her hood.
    Several dogs broke away from the sheep and ran toward them, barking madly. Danielle closed her eyes, whispering until they calmed.
    “Are you ready?” Talia asked.
    “Does it matter?” Faziya forced a smile. “Whatever happens, thank you for saving me from Rajil’s garden.”
    By the time they reached the base of the hill, a small crowd had gathered to greet them. The Kha’iida stared openly at the newcomers, paying as much attention to Faziya as they did the paler strangers. Talia heard Faziya’s name whispered more than once.
    Most of the Kha’iida wore two robes, a pale robe wrapped tight at the waist, and a second, looser one over the top. Sandals were common, though Talia saw several adults in boots. Many of the children were barefoot.
    The men’s robes were dark yellow, similar in color to the sand. The women’s were darker in color, some decorated with embroidery and brocade. Men and women alike wore jewelry of silver and copper, mostly rings.
    A man wearing an emerald belt stepped forward. Talia dismounted from her horse, then reached up to help Faziya.
    “His name is Muhazil,” Faziya whispered. “He leads the tribe.”
    Talia stepped forward to greet him. Muhazil’s sun-baked skin was a deep brown, and his forehead furrowed as he looked from Talia to her companions. His hair was braided in plaits that trailed from his head scarf down his chest, and his beard was an equal mix of black and white.
    “Peace to you and your family,” Talia said, bowing at the waist.
    Muhazil returned the bow. “And to yours. What brings massim this far into the desert?”
    Massim , not the more derogatory varahn . Neither term was a complimentary one for city-dwellers, but at least he wasn’t openly insulting them. “We ask for water to quench our thirst and shelter from the desert