Rigel’s verbose response sounded something like a bargain to Maslakhat, and it came as no surprise that he might attempt such a trade. After all, the golden bay Akhal-Teke did not expect the Arabian to bend to his will as simply as the palms turned over in the breeze. He never knew an Arabian that would. His decree was mostly a test of fortitude, with an attempt to unwrap a layer of what motivated this group of brothers who had wandered so far from home.

Rigel spoke of First Wives and lesser wives and to this Maslakhat bequest him a quick snort. Truthfully, he did not care how many mares they wanted to collect for themselves. It was an antiquated mindset, but the ways of the not-too-distant past still presented ample opportunity for him to achieve what he will.

“I trust you will use good judgment in selecting these wives,” he said firmly, his statement heavy with implication. He expected that Rigel knew as well as he that not every individual was suited to desert life, and he did not wish to cultivate an environment where any weakness might seep in. The Dunes must be strong.

“Keep to where you please, and you may seek me out at your leisure,” he finished. Maslakhat’s apparent nonchalance in this matter was just so—for now. He had no reason to believe they conspired against his will. He believed all who were worthy and capable enough to thrive here had earned the right to make their own choices with respect to their lifestyle. However, the sands of the desert shifted quickly and Maslakhat was not known to be forgiving.


MASLAKHAT

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