"She's nervous." Djari grimaced as she ran her hand along Twilight's neck, feeling the mare's pulse.

The horse was fidgeting a little, not an action that would have alarmed Hasheem, but one didn't question Djari about her horses, not when she spent half her days in the stable and slept in it several nights a month.

"I can take Bruiser."

She shook her head. "Bruiser won't be able to keep up with Nazir, and he gets jumpy in a big crowd," she said, then hesitated a little before arriving at a decision. "Take Summer."

Summer was Djari's colt, her personal mount and their best horse next to Springer. If he took Summer... "Who will you ride?"

"No one," she said. "I'm not coming."

The answer surprised him, and not in a good way. He had expected to accompany her on the ride. This was a ceremonial hunt, done in the afternoon of the same day before each Raviyani to bring back desert gazelles as holy offerings to Ravi. From what he'd been told, there would be over a hundred riders participating in the event. She would have been with a big crowd, and safety shouldn't have been a concern. "You can't or you won't?"

"I have...things to do," Djari said, keeping her gaze on Twilight, her lips stretched into a thin line and pressed tight together.

Hasheem knew that look. It was a choice she didn't want to make—one that had obviously been influenced by something else other than her own preference. He could tell by now when that happened, and that day it was all over her face how hard the decision had been. "Then I don't need to go," he told her. With all things considered, it made no sense for him to be there without Djari.

"You have to," she said, looking at him thoughtfully. "If Nazir wants you there then he has a reason. Besides, it's your first Raviyani. You'll enjoy it."

Hasheem doubted it. He'd never been someone who found hunting an enjoyable sport. There was nothing thrilling about chasing down helpless animals, not when he'd been that animal too many times. But whether or not he would enjoy the event wasn't the problem. The problem was the fact that Nazir definitely had a reason to want him there, which was precisely why he was having second thoughts about this whole idea. One never knew what an oracle could be planning—or seeing.

The sound of someone entering the stable drew their attention to the gate. Down the corridor toward the entrance, Nazir appeared in his spotless white robe. The zikh had been freshly pressed, Hasheem noticed, and over it hung a sash of blue and gold— the colors representing the Visarya Kha'gan. His hair, neatly braided in the White Warrior style, also had blue and gold threads in them. He wore a dagger and a long blade at his waist, carrying a bow and a quiver full of arrows on his back, all of which were either heavily gilded or painted in the same symbolic colors.

Hasheem drew a breath at the sight that was entirely new to him. Nazir was in his most formal attire, which meant that he would be addressing a khumar, not Djari's brother, or a friend. It also meant that the hunt held a lot more significance than he'd originally thought. Nazir wasn't a man of excess. He wore the zikh only sometimes. His everyday sword was unadorned and ordinary, and his boots were usually heavily used and stained. They were brand new today, Hasheem noted as he stole an appraising gaze at the khumar. Nazir was making a statement with this, or he wouldn't have appeared that way.

Next to him, Djari was blinking in surprise. Apparently, she hadn't seen him in that get up many times either.

"He's letting you lead the hunt today?" She asked, stepping forward to take a good look at her brother.

Nazir smiled. "He told me he's too old to be chasing gazelles."

She shook her head slightly, then reached over to straighten the sash for him. "You know he isn't."

Nazir's smile was gentle. It always was with Djari. "I know he isn't."

They exchanged a look, and an understanding seemed to pass readily between them. It was in these moments, that Hasheem could see how strong their bond had been, how much love there was. Words weren't always needed between them. It took just one look from Nazir, or one gesture of his hand sometimes to make Djari pause in the middle of an act, or to continue. He had come to like watching them and often wondered if his bond with Djari would ever be close to that. There had, inevitably, been an awkward atmosphere between them since that night. It was going to take a while, he knew, before things went back to normal.

"Are you nervous?" Djari asked. There was a touch of concern in her tone, perhaps even fear. Not something he would have expected under the circumstances. This was to be Nazir's first time leading the hunt on his own, Hasheem had come to understand from the brief conversation. The kha'a was making room for Nazir to secure the respect and acceptance from the kha'gan. They would now see him at the hunt and begin to look to him as their leader. If anything, it should have been a cause for celebration for both of them. Unless there was something about the hunt he didn't know.

They would see him too, next to Nazir, Hasheem realized. That wasn't a comforting thought, given the proposal he'd declined the other night.

"Maybe a little," Nazir said before turning to him. "Not as much as this one, I'm sure."

Hasheem rolled his eyes. "Who wouldn't be, seeing you in that?"

Djari raised a brow, probably to the way he was speaking more casually with her brother now. They had ended up talking and drinking until quite late that night. He didn't exactly find Nazir to be his new best friend, but it did break the ice a little.

Nazir snorted. "You just wait until nan'ya gets her hands on you tonight. She was sorting out ribbons this morning."

He swore, and Djari laughed at that. It would have been worth wearing ribbons, Hasheem thought. She didn't laugh very often.

Behind them, the guards carried a saddle into the stable. Nazir followed them to Springer's stall and stood by to watch the men saddle his horse. They did so with unusual attention to detail, checking every buckle twice and smoothing the blanket underneath, making sure the borders were perfectly even on both sides. It was the first time Hasheem had seen them put so much effort into dressing up a horse. This was truly no small matter for the Visarya, and it was giving him a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Take Summer," Djari repeated, handing him the saddle that had been originally prepared for Twilight. He took it, this time without question. Springer was being saddled, and his horse had to be done before the khumar's.

Djari held the rein as he mounted, rubbing down her horse and gave it a few soothing words as she did. She checked his stirrups and then handed him the bow and quiver. "Keep up with Nazir," she said, not smiling now. "Stay close to him. It will be more difficult if you fall behind. Accidents happen during the hunt."

He nodded, taking the rein from her and patted Summer on the neck.

"The first shot is Nazir's, and after that, it's fair game," she continued. "Bring down the adult males only. Never the females."

He didn't like the sound of that, or of any of it actually. "What happens if I bring down a female?"

"Don't do that." She scowled, almost wincing at the question. "They won't let you hunt again for a year if you kill a female. More, if she has a baby in her womb. Also, you'll probably die if you fall off the horse, or if you accidentally kill someone. Make sure your way is clear before you loose your arrow."

Hasheem resisted the urge to sigh and curse loudly at Nazir as he listened to her instructions and warnings. Not all of it made sense to him, and he was beginning to wonder if his previous understanding of hunting had been a complete misinterpretation of the word.

"Any more ways I might die from this?" Go to the hunt, she'd said. You'll enjoy it, she'd said. The definition of enjoyment, Hasheem decided, was definitely different in the White Desert.

"Yes," Djari replied in her most serious tone. "You hurt my horse, and I'll kill you."

That, he didn't have a doubt and told her as much. You could be forgiven for many things with Djari, but you didn't mess with her horses and expect to get away with it, which made him even more nervous being on her most favorite colt.

He waited for Nazir to mount up and head out of the stable, then followed a few paces behind. Outside, a band of riders in equally formal attire was waiting. Fourteen warriors would accompany the khumar to the hunt that day. Fourteen men, each one hand-picked by Nazir to ride out with him. They were the candidates for Nazir's future council, Hasheem noticed, all wearing a zikh, except for the two Grays among them. Hasheem had expected Zozi to be there, as a gesture of respect towards his ambitious father. The other Gray, however, took him by a surprise.

A surprise, because the older brother wasn't there.

Next to Zozi, Khali sat his white stallion with an ease of someone who'd been invited to join the leading party a dozen of times, only Hasheem knew he hadn't. The chief's younger son, physically small and more lithe than muscular compared to the other Grays in general, didn't seem at all intimidated by the White Warriors around him despite being the youngest in the party. Leaning back leisurely on his saddle, Khali's half amused, half uninterested expression could easily pass him off as a lazy, unimportant young man who was simply there to pass time.

If one were ignorant enough to pass him off as such, of course, Hasheem thought, watching those pale green eyes turning from one face to another, seeing how they noted the smiles, the braids, the zikh (and the wrinkles on them), along with the tiniest details in the way someone sat his horse or how tightly a man held his rein. The same thing Hasheem had been doing, looking at him.

Those eyes came to rest on Hasheem. He answered the gaze with a blank expression and a polite nod of acknowledgment. Khali stared for a moment, took a glance at Summer and then smiled. The fact that he was riding Djari's horse had been registered, of course, and would certainly be used in the future, Hasheem was dead certain.

Too good to be left out, or too dangerous to be kept unwatched. Nazir had been right and appeared to have decided to put that to the test. Someone as intelligent as Khali could offer much if he was willing and needed to be kept close if he proved otherwise. The big question was, would the boy be any less dangerous under watch?

'An excess of any quality is always dangerous,' Dee had once said. 'Too much intelligence in men can mess up your plans just as well as too little of it.' By the logic of that statement, Deo di Amarra was someone who should be put to death immediately. He'd said as much to his mentor on one occasion, to which Dee had laughed and replied, 'I am stupid enough to want to live, there's that.' He wondered sometimes, if the salar was wise to be keeping Dee so close. If Nazir was to want to keep Khali close.

Nazir snapped a command and fifteen warriors including the khumar began their ride toward the hunting ground, to be joined by the rest of the young men of Visarya along the way. Fifteen White Desert warriors and a stray, Hasheem corrected himself and sighed. He was the only one not wearing white or gray, and with no reason to be there besides that it pleased the khumar. Nazir, he realized, for all that talk about giving him choices, had never intended to take no for an answer.