The Diviner by Melanie Rawn

appeared on his face. “Surely a very little demonstration will suffice.” And he reached over to a tray, taking a silver cup such as Azzad had used the first time he’d sat in this tent. He tossed it at Azzad, who caught it easily. “Lie to me.”
    â€œYour pardon, Abb Shagara?”
    â€œTell me a lie. Anything will do. I’ll ask a question, shall I? What is the name of your horse?”
    Hiding a smile—and perhaps a tolerant sigh—Azzad opened his mouth to say Barghoutz , silently begging the stallion’s pardon for the insult of calling him a flea.
    What came out of his mouth was, “Khamsin.”
    Abb Shagara crowed with laughter at the surprise Azzad could feel scrawled all over his face. “You see? You remember the first time we drank qawah together here? You held that cup, and you told no lies.”
    â€œI—” He thought he might say something polite. Instead: “I don’t believe it.”
    â€œI know you don’t,” said Meryem. She rose and took the cup from his hand. “Now that you’ve had your little game, my son, please allow Azzad to get some sleep. He has an early start in the morning.”
    â€œAnother few questions, and he would have believed,” the boy complained.
    â€œEnough!” Meryem ordered, and he subsided.
    The next morning Azzad went on his way, with the whole tribe to watch. Only Abb Shagara, Meryem, Kabir, Fadhil, and Leyliah spoke to him in farewell, but he saw the smiles and sensed the goodwill—and their chagrin that while in their care he had nearly been assassinated. Curiously, there was no resentment that now, because of him, a stranger, the fearsome Geysh Dushann were their openly declared enemies. Truly, Acuyib had made their hearts more open and generous than the hearts of his own people, whom he had known to betray friends for the price of a basket of bread.
    He saddled Khamsin—who behaved himself although he was plainly eager for a long gallop—and took a moment to inspect the new decorations on the saddle. Fadhil stood stroking the stallion’s neck, watching Azzad finger each of thirteen palm-sized tin disks.
    â€œOne for each moon of the year,” Fadhil explained. “It is traditional with our own horses. Abb Shagara says we cannot tell you what each means, or you will trust in them too much and not have a care to yourself.”
    â€œI see. If I knew that arrows would glance off Khamsin’s hide, I’d ride right into an army of archers?”
    â€œSomething like that. Not even the Shagara can protect against stupidity.”
    â€œI’ve never had a reputation for being wise, but I promise I’ll try not to be foolish.” He smiled and grasped the young man’s arm. “You’ve been a good friend to me, Fadhil, and because we are friends, I’d like to give you some advice. Marry Leyliah.”
    His skin paled beneath its golden sheen, and his eyes went wide. “ Marry —?”
    â€œYes. You’re both healers, you have an eye for each other—and no wonder, you’re handsome and she’s exquisite—”
    â€œI cannot,” he whispered, glancing away.
    â€œWhyever not? Surely sometimes you marry within the tribe. You’re not close cousins, are you?”
    â€œIn the sixth degree.”
    â€œWell, then—”
    â€œShe—will find a husband from another tribe.”
    â€œI tell you she wants you. I’ve seen that look in a woman’s eye often enough to know what it means. It would do my heart good to think of you married and—”
    â€œI cannot. Please do not speak of it ever again.” Fadhil gave him an anguished look, gripped both Azzad’s hands for an instant, and hurried away.
    Chal Kabir came forward, clasped his hands briefly, and advised him to be careful. Then Meryem and Abb Shagara approached, the latter with a look of longing in his eyes as he regarded