The Healer's Warrior Read Online Free PDF Page B

to Tikso , refusing the urge to turn back to be of assistance to her patrons. “There are people that need me,” she explained.
    Papa nodded. “I will not give up hope, because it pleases me greatly when you are home.” He held her face and kissed her damp cheeks. She began to cry again at the fond childhood memories evoked by the feeling of his beard tickling her face.
    Jem’ya reached into the black sack and gave Mama an ivory hand mirror and gave Papa a small shiny dagger. Jem’ya had been surprised and frightened by it when Tareq gave the dagger to her. He even spent a few hours teaching her how to use it to protect herself. She’d been charmed by Tareq’s concern and delighted that he was willing to teach her to fight even though she was a woman.
    Her parents fawned over the gifts and they chatted for a while to catch up. Mama gave Jem’ya a tribal outfit she’d left behind. She changed into the sarong and necklace and went with Mama and Papa to the courtyard while Kibwe left to check on his wife and children. The courtyard was at the center of the village, under the shade of two old trees. It was the place that everyone came to talk and relax after the day’s work was done and where ceremonies and celebrations were held. Jem’ya sat on a straw mat and relaxed, watching children play with their new toys and listening to her father’s youngest wife gossip about one of her cousins.
    Suddenly a man sat beside her on the mat. “ ZeeZee ,” he grinned. It was Jakenzo , the most handsome man in the village, the man she almost married. Their failed relationship was the impetus for her leaving Tikso as fast and as far away as she could two years ago.
    Jakenzo was not very tall, but his swagger and confidence made him seem bigger. He had naturally light brown hair, a rare feature among her tribe. His eyebrows were the same brown. His eyes were seductive and angular like a cat’s and his jaw line was masculine, strong. His body was lean and powerful. You could see every muscle in his abdomen. Looking at his body now, Jem’ya was not as impressed as she once was. She chuckled inwardly, imagining Jakenzo’s ego deflating with the knowledge that she appreciated much more the physique of her patient, a white-skinned Arab man, a wealthy one on top of that.
    Jakenzo’s ego was in the end what ruined their engagement. He had to flaunt his masculinity every chance he could get. She used to be flattered by his competitive nature, his jealousy, and his lust. She used to love his rough, possessive kisses. Jem’ya used to be in love with him, accepting his insecurities for what they were. She thought that the years of patiently supporting him and humbly surviving on the scraps of sensitivity and half interest he threw her way would encourage him to be appreciative of her, the perfect virgin bride.
    It didn’t. She was still not enough for him. He finally admitted that his ultimate goal was to have seven wives. It was his right as a man, he’d told her. As a woman, she shouldn’t be so jealous and selfish, he’d said. She gave the beloved Kenzo a black eye that day and the whole village, especially her parents, rebuked her. Except Kibwe ; he laughed uncontrollably, pat her on the back, and gave her a big cup of honey mead.
    After that day, she made up her mind to never trust or rely on a man for anything. Not for food, security, support or company, and certainly not for happiness. She left Tikso to be her own person and to prove what a woman could do without a man directing her. By the grace of God she made it to the North Coast safely. She was very happy for a while on the Coast, but after a year her verdict on men began to change. Perhaps she didn’t need a man, but she wanted one. And she wouldn’t need to rely on her mate completely, just once in a while.
    Looking into Jakenzo’s smiling eyes now, two years after the fact, Jem’ya still had no regrets about striking him in the face.
    Jakenzo leaned forward and