The information Gabbar brought her, that had ultimately come from the Arabian here, was both useful and plentiful, and Valve was immediately suspicious of her reasons for divulging such abundant knowledge to a stallion she had just met. As the black mare’s gaze stayed fastened upon the stallion until he finished speaking, Valve reminded herself that he was rather handsome, and that it was quite possible that the mare was equal parts grateful and immediately smitten with the bay. She is either a moron or exceedingly exploitive, Valve thought to herself, stretching her lithe neck toward where she had last spotted A’idah.

“It is interesting,” Valve agreed. “If she is truthful, the only way she would know all this is if she played a role in it.”

Valve’s pensive gaze returned to Gabbar’s dished face as she finished. This time there is a hint of something compassionate in her expression, but only in the warrior’s sense. There is nothing amorous between the two desert-bred hot bloods, only the infallible bond created by having spilt the blood of a common enemy together. The dark mare’s next words are said because she respects him, and because his desire for the warmth of a woman is all too palpable.

“Be careful of her, Gabbar.”

The question of A’idah’s mindfulness was so far uncertain, but despite which way the pendulum swung, Valve knew that in either case it could present a problem. She could at least be relatively certain the Arabian had met her nephew. Her uttering the name Maslakhat would certainly not lead to any sort of personal gain. At least, not for her.

“For the time being, I think it is best if I divert my energy to finding Maslakhat,” Valve finished. “Should your El Halin indeed be involved with him in some way, you can be sure I will know it.”

There would be no keeping secrets from Valve.

VALVE
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