Iftikhar
mare . arabian . chestnut . 15.0hh . 10
The stallion is quick to catch up to her, and Iftikhar flicks an ear his way as she eyes him sidelong but does not slow down. She is only vaguely impressed that he keeps pace with her. The Arabian’s ignorance of the culture on the Isles angers her —why had El Halin not prepared her for this?— and when Iftikhar is angry her temper flares as hotly as the sun. “Wrong. You are tiny. You are a breeder. A breeder cannot be a king, cannot lead a herd; Uzay!” She spits her God’s name as a curse and flattens her ears. Kaywunaywun should be in charge of this herd. The blue roan seemed to have a good head on her shoulders, despite her passive attitude, but she had also been the only mare evident in the Inlet and thus would have to do.
Iftikhar turns her head to stare at Dögun with one liquid-dark eye and runs his statement through her mind a second time. “You claim to be the king of these isles. Do you then also claim to rule all of the herds within it?” Having authority over multiple herds —five islands!— is true power, even if it is impossible for a breeder to hold such a position. The fact that the grullo stallion beside the Arabian claims to hold that power raises him a notch in her estimation. Iftikhar, despite her wishes and the assurances from her High Seer, does not rule more than one herd in the desert.
His statement about how far away Salem is does not interest the chestnut just yet. Right now she needs to know how a horse, one who is only a breeder at that, has risen to such enviable heights and, more importantly, what she can learn from him in order to secure such power for herself when she returns to the desert.
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