Sargon’s eyes focused on her face. “What. . what do you want?”
His voice sounded thick in his ears, and Sargon knew his thoughts were muddled and slow. “I’ve come to bring you to my father’s tent,” Tashanella went on. “He wants to speak with you before tonight’s feasting begins.”
Propping himself up on one arm, Sargon gazed at the girl’s face. It had changed somehow, no longer the face of a child, but that of a young woman. Her voice set his thoughts racing, and he could not keep his eyes from the breasts that swelled against her dress as Tashanella leaned over him.
A shiver went through his body as his staff, unawakened for so many days, suddenly swelled and rose up. Sargon remembered he was naked, and the thought made his manhood throb and grow even harder. He reached down to cover himself, but Tashanella stopped his hand, then let her own fingers brush against his penis.
“You are very beautiful,” she said. “It’s strange. I have seen many erect members, but never have I thought any of them beautiful.”
The touch of her fingers had unleashed a wave of passion. He caught her hand in his, and held it tight. Her long hair framed her face, and the wide brown eyes remained fastened on his.
Tashanella smiled down at him. Suddenly she leaned over and kissed his lips, a brief touch that only fanned the flames of his throbbing erection. Sargon reached up to pull her down to him, but she straightened up and rocked back on her heels. All the same, Tashanella did not let go of his hand, and now she clasped it with both of hers.
“You must come to my father’s tent. It is not wise to keep the leader of the clan waiting.”
“I don’t care about your father, Tashanella.” Her name rolled easily off his tongue, and he decided that it was the most beautiful name he’d ever heard. At that moment, Sargon would have risked keeping Subutai waiting until dawn, if he could convince Tashanella to walk with him across the stream and into the trees.
The girl grew serious, and released his hand. “This is important, Sargon. I think my father wishes to hear your advice.” She stood and straightened out her dress. “Besides, I wasted too much time gazing at you while you slept. My father will be growing impatient.”
The thought of her looking at him while he lay there naked brought a flush to his face. How odd. He hadn’t been embarrassed by a girl’s thoughts or deeds for at least two seasons.
“I have to return to Chinua’s tent to borrow some clothes.” He sat up, and glanced around, searching for the remains of his tunic. It must have floated away.
“You will not need to borrow. Your father left several garments with Chinua before he departed. They are yours now. Come. I’ll go with you.”
She reached down her hand, and helped him to his feet. His erection still loomed. It felt as though it would release his seed at the slightest touch. Sargon grimaced. He couldn’t walk through the camp like that.
“Wait a moment.” He turned and dove back into the stream, diving deep until he touched the sandy bottom before he rose up and burst through the surface. Sargon took a few vigorous strokes until the effort combined with the chill of the water softened his excitement.
When he emerged, Tashanella shook her head at his foolishness. Without a word, she started back toward the camp and Chinua’s tent. Sargon followed a few steps behind, shaking the water from his hair.
A man or boy walking naked through the camp usually meant nothing. Sargon had walked naked to and from the stream before, as did other warriors and even a few of the women. This time it was different. Today, anyone who saw him, saw the both of them, would notice more than just the fact that he wore no garments.
It looked, he realized, like a woman leading her lover back to her tent. He wondered what Subutai would do if he encountered Sargon and his daughter like this. Thinking of her father brought back Tashanella’s words. What advice from Sargon could the leader of the clan want? The last of Sargon’s erection disappeared even faster than it had risen.
Outside Chinua’s tent, Sargon found the women busy preparing for tonight’s feast. The young girls and maidens smiled as his body, laughing or blushing depending on their age, while Chinua’s two wives merely glanced up at his arrival.
Nibiru, the older of Chinua’s wives, sat near the family’s big cooking pot, a small knife in her hand chopping mushrooms against a flat stone. Behind her, two rabbit skins were drying on a stretching board. Nibiru had almost the same number of seasons as her husband.
“Sargon, you’re supposed to be at Subutai’s tent. He sent a boy here to look for you.” She pretended to notice Tashanella for the first time, and couldn’t keep the smile from her face.
“I know, Nibiru. I need a garment. Tashanella says that you have some that belong to me.”
“Chinua said. .” Nibiru glanced at Tashanella again and changed her mind. “Yes, there’s a bundle in the tent.” She dropped the knife, tossed the mushroom slices into the cooking pot, and rose.
Sargon followed her into the tent. To his surprise, Tashanella entered it, too.
Nibiru picked up a scrap of cloth and handed it to Sargon. “Dry yourself.” Then she searched underneath some blankets and sacks until she found Sargon’s things. “Chinua said you were not to have this until you were ready.”
Sargon didn’t bother to ask what that meant. He dropped to his knees and began untying the thin leather strips that secured the bundle. The neat knots with the unique twirl told him that his mother had prepared this herself.
Unraveling the outer cloth, Sargon found a plain but well-made tunic, trousers such as Akkad’s horse fighters wore, a pair of sturdy sandals, and two undergarments. The trousers would have been more than useful on this last ride.
Tashanella picked up the tunic and shook it out. Sargon donned the undergarment and trousers, fastening them with the same knot his mother had used. Tashanella handed him the tunic and he dropped that over his chest. He sat and tied on the sandals, enjoying the feel on his now calloused feet.
When he finished, both women nodded approvingly.
“A handsome warrior,” Nibiru declared.
“You must hurry, Sargon.” Tashanella led the way out of the tent.
“You look very beautiful today, Tashanella,” Nibiru called out before the pair started for Subutai’s tent.
To Sargon’s surprise, the girl who had touched his stiff manhood without showing any emotion blushed furiously.
Both he and Tashanella pretended not to hear the giggling of the young girls that broke out behind them. Instead they quickened their pace toward Subutai’s tent.
25
Tashanella stayed at his side all the way to her mother’s cooking fire. Sargon gave her one last look, then ducked inside Subutai’s tent. The time for the feast to begin approached, and Sargon hoped he wasn’t the one keeping everyone away from the celebration.
“I’m sorry to be late, Subutai. I fell asleep at the stream.”
Looking around, Sargon saw the tent filled to capacity. Chinua and Skala were there, both still wearing the rags they’d worn when they rode into camp. Subutai must have summoned them before they could change. Whatever they had talked about, the conversation had gone on since they arrived.
Suddenly Sargon felt conscious of his clean tunic and new sandals. He saw the frown on Subutai’s face, and wondered just how long the Clan’s Sarum had been waiting. Sargon guessed that the boy sent to find him would get a tongue-lashing for taking so much time.
Sargon wondered what the clan leader would do if he found out that Tashanella had brought Sargon back. She might be punished as well. And if Subutai discovered what had happened at the stream, Sargon might end up guarding the horses for the next few nights.
“Come. Sit.” Subutai took a deep breath and erased the frown. “You know everyone here.”
Sargon squeezed in beside Chinua and Jennat, who shifted to make room. Sargon nodded gratefully, then acknowledged the others present — Skala, Fashod, and an old warrior named Namar.