One of Kurlaj's Sons
The smell of spices, meat, and black tea woke him slowly. Black gaze opened blearily and attempted to focus on the print of a translucent silk curtain that hung from the ceiling of the tent. He propped himself up on his right elbow to watch the woman at the other end of the tent prepare the breakfast.
He knew that he hadn't made a sound, but the girl clad in several layers of silk and cloth turned her head to see him then gave him a nod. She could have made a decent part of his hunting party the way she knew the world around her, to the smallest degree.
The covers were thrown back and NeVar Alnahi stood from the bed of matting, cloth, and furs. A white, floor length garment the Kurlaj called a naro was thick brown linen to keep the wearer warm on the coldest of desert knights. His beard was unbraided and hair unkempt when he moved towards the stand that held the basin. The skin of water was lifted and up ended to pour it into the colorful tortoise shell bowl.
By the time his wet hand moved left the woman who had been cooking his breakfast was draping a cloth to dry himself with.
"Thank you, A'rishe." NeVar Alnahi roughly toweled his face and beard dry and straightened himself up to his full height. Looking dishevelled and a scar over his left brow made A'rishe took her face a little to look back to the other end of the tent.
"Sheik Alnahi." A'rishe acknowledged him with his name and bent at the waist deeply and moved away.
NeVar watched as the girl who served his tent gracefully brushed the sheer partition aside and moved back to food to keep it from burning. He didn't bother with changing clothes yet or grooming. The food lurred him and his body was still bruised and ached from staving another skurmish the night before.
The wall of stitched, see through silk was pushed aside to follow A'rishe into the forefront of the long tent to an area where carpets were layered and pillows offered comfort. He eased himself down and pulled his feet to use that comfort without arrogance.
"I heard movement an hour ago." NeVar Alnahi verbally prodded A'rishe when she brought the food. He watched her put each of nearly a dozen different items on small plates or bowls with smaller bowls holding spices and sauces. He reached for a slice of bread and folded it over to dip it into the bowl of honey.
"Mulon J'Ni and his family are here." She paused to neatly fold a fine worked cloth and lay it over his knee without touching him in anyway, then withdrew to pour the black tea into a handless cup.
"J'Ni. I see." Tone grew as distance as his gaze for a moment. "Make his daughters just as welcome, A'rishe."
The daughters of Mulon J'Ni. The thought was enough to nearly ruin his appetite. His interest in the food waned, but he ate anyway. There was much to do in the days to come and then there was healing from the activities of the night before. He readjusted his position back against the pillows.
"Would I treat them any other way, Sheik Alnahi?" She smiled but bowed her head low.
NeVar laughed quietly as he reached out to dip the bread in honey again. "You, A'rishe, would put fear in the heart of a man with a bloody sword over your hand with you bound and no way to run."
"No as much as being in the presence of one of Kurlaj's sons, Sheik Alnahi. Or one of his ....beautiful....daughters." The jest and jabs seemed old and comfortable between them. But A'rishe was still careful with her tones. She knew very well who she was in his tent.
NeVar scowled at her and threw a grape at her with a flick of his hand. "For that, see that his daughters are not only made to feel welcome, but try to do something to tame down that beauty of theirs." He did all but shudder. Mulon J'Ni's daughters had no beauty but they seemed to lack the understanding of it. They conducted themselves as if they were gems of the desert and nothing could rival that beauty. And Mulon J'Ni intended to pawn one or more onto NeVar Alnahi, Sheik of the Desert Shields and prince of the western dunes.
"My Sheik!" A'rishe gasped and then pouted. He had done her no favor but given her quite the lesson in behavior to have to deal with Mulon's daughters. Muttering under her breath, she slipped out of his pressence. But not before she rudely doused his fire and sent a haze and hiss of steam up around him from it. The tent doors fell closed against the sound of laughter.
