3: Black Blades by Ginn Hale Read Free Book Online Page B

to Jath’ibaye. So all he had to do was slip back into the council building and wait for Jath’ibaye; then Fikiri would come to him.
    When he walked in through the back door, several women looked up at him. They were portioning out cutlets of dog meat into white dishes.
    “Where have you been?” an older woman demanded.
    “The steward sent me out to get some more flowers.” Kahlil held up the bouquet of spring buds he had carried out with him.
    “Forget that,” the older woman told him. “The ladies are arriving and they aren’t half-hungry. Take a tray and get out there.”
    Kahlil picked up a silver tray and strode out to the ballroom. The musicians had situated themselves behind their blinds and played quietly. Kahlil followed the other men in white uniforms, serving the exquisitely dressed gaun’im women at the tables.
    As more gaun’im arrived, Kahlil’s duties changed. He took out trays of drinks for the men and candies for the youngest girls. All of the noblemen came dressed in their house colors and carried at least one long string of fine silver chain. Though the chains were symbols of the wealth that they could offer to their future brides, Kahlil still found them sinister.
    Esh’illan Anyyd arrived with several of his brothers and a particularly sturdy set of silver wedding chains. Draped over his silk clad arm, the chains just brushed his knee. No one else seemed to take any note of them. Ourath arrived with his three wives and his young son, all clad in the rich tawny colors of the Lisam house. Ourath’s hair looked particularly red and his low voice seemed to brim with happiness as he spoke. He took a glass of wine from Kahlil without even sparing him a glance.
    The music grew louder, competing with the rising hum of conversation. The heat from the lamps and chandeliers swelled with the warmth of so many bodies.
    Several members of the Bousim family were announced, but Nanvess was not among them. Then the massive doors swung open again and a boy in blue and gold announced, “Welcome his honor, Jath’ibaye’in’Fai’daum.”
    Kahlil and every other person in the entire ballroom turned toward the door. Even the musicians seemed to pause a moment to steal glances at Jath’ibaye.
    Unlike any of the gaun’im, Jath’ibaye had come alone. His wild blonde hair blazed gold under the profusion of light. The blood red of his clothes declared his Fai’daum loyalty. He hadn’t brought a single silver chain.
    Kahlil thought he heard an audible sigh of relief from some of the girls near him.
    As Jath’ibaye scanned the crowded ballroom, Kahlil bowed his head. He could remember too well how Jath’ibaye had picked him out even in the darkness.
    Ourath broke away from his conversation with a Tushoya woman and her unwed daughters. He strode easily through the crowd, lesser gaun’im men quickly making way for him. He greeted Jath’ibaye with a smile and led him into the ballroom. Kahlil stepped back behind a vivid yellow bouquet as Ourath looked around for a server. At last he stopped a young man in a white uniform and took two drinks. Ourath handed one to Jath’ibaye and offered a toast of some kind.
    They drank together and Ourath introduced several other gaun’im to Jath’ibaye. After a few moments, the room seemed to return to normal. More guests arrived. The ancient Bousim gaunsho shuffled through the doors, followed by his dozen wives. Steadily, couples began to fill the middle of the dance floor. Ourath escorted his first wife out for a dance, but afterwards he returned to Jath’ibaye’s side.
    Kahlil still hadn’t spotted Nanvess when he noticed Ourath drawing Jath’ibaye away from the crowd towards the back of the building and the gardens. Kahlil set his tray full of iced fruit down and cut through the kitchen to the west garden.
    Once outside, Kahlil raced up the hill, keeping to the side of the path where the deep evergreen leaves hid him. He waited for Ourath and Jath’ibaye. A few