Red Hood's Revenge

sun.”
    “I am Muhazil Yidab-ud-Ahra. You and your friends are welcome in my tent.”
    “Did he say his tent?” Snow leaned forward. “Is he asking us to—”
    “No.” Talia swatted Snow’s shoulder without looking. “Thank you, Muhazil.”
    “Perhaps you would do us the pleasure of sharing your story?” he asked, the closest a Kha’iida would come to asking strangers why they had traveled so far from home.
    “Is there a place you and I could talk privately?” Talia asked.
    Muhazil turned and touched a finger to his lips. At this signal, a younger boy ran back toward the tents. “My grandson Lazhan will see to your friends’ needs while we speak.” He turned his back and walked away.
    Talia fought a rush of anger. She had been too long in Lorindar, where turning your back was a sign of disdain rather than trust. To Danielle, she said, “You’ll be safe here. Nobody tell them anything until I’ve had the chance to discuss things with Muhazil. Try to keep Roudette from snacking on their herd. Kha’iida hospitality only extends so far.”
    Faziya started to follow the others, but Talia caught her hand. “I need you with me.”
    “Muhazil won’t like it,” Faziya warned.
    “I don’t care. We need their help, and Muhazil needs to hear what you’ve learned.”
    Muhazil led them to a large tent near the center of the camp. The tents were spread far enough apart to allow individuals to pass between them without tripping over the lines, so long as they were careful. Talia kept one arm around Faziya’s waist for support. Faziya was steadier than she had been three days ago, but a fall could still tear the stitches and start her bleeding again.
    The front and back walls of most tents were tied open, allowing the air to circulate. Muhazil’s tent was partitioned into two rooms, both of which were larger than Talia’s chambers back home. Back in Lorindar, she corrected.
    He brought them into the room on the left. Iron chimes hanging from the central pole rang softly as they entered. Overlapping rugs covered the ground, woven in intricate patterns of red, gold, and blue. Sleeping mats lined the edges of the tent. Each had been folded lengthwise and propped up to form low, makeshift couches.
    Muhazil crouched at a small fire circle in the center of the room. He blew embers into flame, adding a small pile of tinder and what looked like dried dung.
    Talia started to speak, but Faziya tugged her toward one of the mats, which was surprisingly firm. Like the tent, the mats were woven of goat wool, and each was decorated in a different pattern. This one was dyed in stripes of blue and purple. The bright colors of the Kha’iida camp were refreshing after her time in Jahrasima and the desert.
    Talia waited impatiently as Muhazil prepared drinks. He dipped water from a basin into a small pot, which he set directly on the embers. He opened a small chest and pulled out a plain linen sack. The smell of coffee soon suffused the tent. Humming, he grabbed a handful of crushed beans and tossed them into the water.
    Despite herself, Talia smiled. “I haven’t tasted real coffee since I was a child. Even then, my parents wouldn’t let me drink much.”
    “Why not?” Muhazil asked. “Coffee is good for the body and the spirit.”
    Talia smiled wryly. “They feared it would keep me from sleeping.”
    Faziya squeezed her hand. They waited in silence as Muhazil finished brewing the coffee. He poured for Talia first, handing her a porcelain cup lined with silver. She blew once and took a sip. The taste was more bitter than she remembered, but the saffron aftertaste drew a contented sigh from her lips.
    Faziya’s hand shook as she accepted her own cup. She took a small sip, then set the cup on the mat. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t drink much while my body is recovering.”
    “So says the Temple of the Hedge?” Muhazil asked.
    Faziya straightened. “Yes.”
    Muhazil waved his hand as though brushing away an imagined insect, indicating that he had no interest in continuing the discussion. To Talia, he said, “You wished to speak alone.”
    “The Wild Hunt has plagued the Kha’iida in recent times,” Talia said.
    “They have pursued us for most of the past season,” Muhazil admitted. “Two tribes have vanished. Three others have been broken and scattered. Fourteen survivors joined our own tribe a month ago. We’ve set out what protections we can to discourage the Hunt’s return.”
    Five