The black mare lingers. El Halin settles herself in, mentally, for conversation that will require a quick wit to keep up with the Akhal-Teke. If she is anything like the mares from their homeland, as Iftikhar first assumed, every word will be weighted. Speaking without thought is not encouraged when dealing with ‘Tekes, but neither is maintaining a silence for too long— it takes concentration to keep up with some of the slender horses, and the High Seer anticipates this verbal dance with a sudden rise in her heart rate and adrenaline. Almost, it feels like a competition.

Behind her, Iftikhar’s chest constricts suddenly. Her weight on El Halin’s hindquarters increases as she leans forward and speaks over El Halin’s head before the bloodmarked mare has a chance to reply. “Gabbar,” she says without inflection. “Meaning “strong,” or “proud,” is the name the Honorable Iftikhar selected for her firstborn son once it became clear it was not the will of Uzay that the colt perish in the desert. Every Arabian knows the name Gabbar: besides its modern association, many soldiers have carried the same title, named after the Uzaydan soldier who hangs close to the horizon during the rainy season.” The constellation is well-known among her people, a cluster of easily recognizable stars that might have a different name in the Akhal-Teke culture but is surely one that the black mare has seen before. Once the shape has been described to a horse, it is impossible not to see the dead soldier’s outline guarding the horizon at night.

On this half of the world, however, Iftikhar has not been able to locate it: her concerns have been less about astral navigation and more about nursing her hate of all of the mutts who infect the earth, specifically the territories she has been frequenting on these Isles. She offers this information to the stranger now to gauge how much she knows, or to see if any of it will elicit a reaction. El Halin may be certain that this black ‘Teke is unknown to them both, but Iftikhar regards her still as if she is a well-known enemy, one with whom the red mare has kept close company.

“It is well known,” El Halin affirms quietly. “But also specific to our breed, not yours. I am curious, then, as to why you, an Akhal-Teke, are interested in the name.” The High Seer’s ears are pointed at the slender mare and her dark gaze rests without wavering on the stranger’s skinny face.


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IFTIKHAR & EL HALIN
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