The High Seer maintains her composure as the Akhal-Teke informs the two mares of Gabbar’s presence on the Isles. Iftikhar barely waits for the black mare to finish speaking before she lunges forward, jostling El Halin’s freckled hip as she pushes past her companion to stand shoulder to bloodmarked shoulder with the other Arabian. “What? Gabbar, here? Tell me all you know,” the chestnut demands, as imperious as if they stood in the sands of her desert and not a territory on Salem. There, Iftikhar would have the kind of authority she assumes now.

“Iftikhar, kendinizi sakin,” El Halin murmurs. The red mare snorts and swings her body abruptly away from the other two, standing perpendicular to the High Seer now as she stares moodily out across the sloping territory of the Dunes. Her delicate ears are turned back and pinned to her crest. El Halin offers the Akhal-Teke a tight smile. “He has not far to look,” she says, certain that the black mare will be able to infer their identities now if she does not already know who the pair of Arabians are.

The ‘Teke is little more than a shadow limned in silver moonlight, and El Halin’s brow furrows as she stares at the black mare and tries to puzzle out her motivations. The High Seer finds it curious that the ‘Teke has been so generous with this information, especially when neither she nor Iftikhar prompted it. There are many assumptions that could be made about this situation. El Halin catalogues each one as it occurs to her but does not leap to any conclusions— not yet. Not until Iftikhar has ferreted the bay breeder out from under whichever rock he has been hiding under and heard his report. Only after that information has been collected and then relayed to the High Seer will El Halin attempt to deduce the black mare’s motives.

“I take it you have had words with Gabbar,” El Halin continues, as smoothly as if there had been no pause in the conversation. Her brother, Rakkas, had favored Iftikhar’s unacknowledged firstborn son and raised the colt as if they were related by blood— because El Halin had suggested it in order for her brother to earn favor with the lead mare. Leil had not been pleased. He had fallen out of Iftikhar’s grace the moment the chestnut discovered the foal she had been carrying for nearly a year was nothing more than a colt. Her level of indifference to the black stallion had made the desert seem arctic at times, and though he continued to do what he could to please her, Iftikhar remained cold.

It worries El Halin that Gabbar is here, on the Isles, and not back home, but she hides that anxiety from the others and herself as she breathes steadily and waits for the ‘Teke’s response.


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IFTIKHAR & EL HALIN
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