The Daylight War

26

333 AR Summer

14 Dawns Before Waning

‘How dare you spin your lies in the court of the Deliverer,’ Damaji Qezan of the Jama tribe accused.

‘Lies?!’ Damaji Ichach of the Khanjin cried, his face growing red. ‘You are the one whose tongue drips with false witness. You know full well …’

Ichach and Qezan, neither the fittest to begin with, had put on even more weight in recent months. Virtually every Krasian had since they conquered the abundant green lands, but few so grossly.

Ahmann asu Hoshkamin am’Jardir am’Kaji, Shar’Dama Ka and the most powerful man in the world, looked at the squabbling clerics and had to suppress the urge to blood his spear with the both of them. The Jama and Khanjin were ever at each other’s throats.

Jardir felt stronger than ever in his life, muscles brimming with energy, yet he had never felt so weary as he did now, watching fat old men argue the latest bit of political nonsense even as the battle lines of Sharak Ka were being drawn.

It wasn’t just the Jama and Khanjin. The tribes had been united for years and were wealthy as never before, yet still they found reasons to offend one another, stealing wells and women just to burn rivals. The Damaji could have put a stop to it, but the cycle of vengeance on the council of Damaji was no better than that among the most incensed tribesmen. These men were zahven, and the only thing that truly mattered to them was their standing among one another.

He noticed the Damaji looking at him, and realized he’d stopped paying attention. They were awaiting a decree, and he had no idea what for. Some bit of contested land …

Jardir looked to Jayan, standing at the foot of his dais. ‘Jayan my son, what think you of this great crisis between the Jama and Khanjin?’ He made no effort to hide the displeasure in his voice.

Jayan bowed deeply. ‘The Jama have a legitimate claim to injury, Father.’ Jardir saw Damaji Qezan puff up. ‘But so, too, do the Khanjin.’ Ichach straightened at that.

Jardir nodded. ‘And how would you deal with it in my place?’ Both Damaji turned in surprise to look at the young Sharum Ka. Traditionally, the Sharum Ka was the servant of the council, not the other way around, and Jayan was only nineteen. With the exception of Ashan, there was not a man on the council under sixty.

Jayan bowed again. ‘Both tribes have proven they are unworthy of the land. I would confiscate it for the war effort.’

Of course you would, Jardir thought. Jayan had not been happy with the three million draki he had been given, but Jardir had seen Jayan’s clumsy accounting of how he had spent the war tax, and read between the lines. The only one of my sons to have his own palace, and already it must be grander than any other.

He looked to Asome, standing beside Damaji Ashan and Dama Asukaji. ‘And you, Asome? Do you agree with your brother?’

Asome bowed. ‘The land is meaningless, Father, and will not solve the true problem.’

‘And what is that, my son?’ Jardir asked.

‘That Sharak Ka is nigh, yet the Damaji continue to waste the Deliverer’s time with petty matters even children could settle among themselves.’

There was a burst of chatter among the Damaji at this. Jardir thumped his spear on the marble dais. ‘Silence!’

The room quieted immediately. Jardir kept his eyes on Asome. ‘And your solution to this problem?’

‘Let the Damaji settle it among themselves.’ Asome turned, eyeing the two Damaji as his voice grew cold. ‘And give Damajis Qezan and Ichach three lashes of the alagai tail each for incentive.’ He dropped a hand to the barbed whip he carried on his belt. Every dama owned one — a symbol of the new power given when they took the white — but carrying them on one’s person had fallen from fashion over the centuries, only to be brought back by Asome. Now more and more dama carried the weapons with them at all times.

For a moment, there was utter silence, but then the entire court broke out in angry shouting.

‘How dare you, boy?!’ Qezan shouted.

‘Outrageous!’ Ichach growled.

Asome only smiled. ‘You see, Damaji? Already you agree on something.’ Qezan’s and Ichach’s faces grew so red, Jardir thought they might burst.

Careful, my son, he thought. You make powerful enemies.

Other clerics added outrage to the chorus. No Damaji had been whipped in centuries, and certainly not on the orders of a young dama not yet eighteen. They had become so secure in their power over the years they believed themselves above the laws that governed other men. Even Ashan, secure in the Deliverer’s favour and Asome’s uncle, looked at the boy in displeasure.

The Damaji’ting only looked on in silence.

‘Once again, my brother proves why he is heir to nothing,’ Jayan said with a smirk, but Asome did not flinch, his gaze cool. He did not have the look of an heir to nothing.

He has the look of an Andrah, Jardir thought. As if his appointment is a foregone conclusion.

Jardir considered. Asome had masterfully cornered him. If he followed Jayan’s solution, his second son would lose face, and indeed, the true problem would continue. But if he agreed …

Only Damaji Aleverak — once Jardir’s bitter enemy and now one of his most trusted advisors — was unperturbed. Aleverak gave Jardir his own share of frustration, but he was a man of honour and courage, a true leader to his people and not just a despot like many of his brethren on the council. He would never behave so foolishly as these men, and if he did, he would strip his robe and bend to receive the lash without losing a grain of dignity. But even Aleverak would not suggest a whipping in open council. Asome’s directness was a refreshing change.

Jardir glanced at Aleverak, and the ancient cleric gave a tiny nod, the gesture lost amid the chaos. He, too, carried an alagai tail.

‘The Damajah!’ came Hasik’s call from the door. All the men looked up, their conflict momentarily forgotten at the sight of Inevera.

She does take the breath away, Jardir thought, gazing at his First Wife as his council bowed to her.

Inevera nodded in acceptance of the honour, but made no effort to approach the throne. She caught Jardir’s eye and touched her hora pouch, then inclined her head slightly towards her pillow chamber. There was no missing the meaning behind the gesture.

Her new alagai hora were at last complete.

Jardir felt dizzied by the feelings that raised in him. For twenty-five years he had been a virtual slave to the alagai hora, the whole course of his life dictated by their throws. The last fortnight had felt freer than he imagined possible, unburdened by their yoke.

But with that freedom came uncertainty. The dice kept him captive in their way, but they gave him power, too. In those throws were truths he sorely needed if they were to win the Daylight War and Sharak Ka. The problem was that their truths were filtered through Inevera, and she kept her own counsel on which to share and which to keep.

He looked back at the Damaji, still waiting in shocked silence for his response to their petty drama. ‘It shall be as both my sons suggest. The contested land will go to Jayan, and Damajis Ichach and Qezan will have the kiss of the alagai tail.’

All the clerics save Ashan and Aleverak opened their mouths to protest, but Jardir raised the Spear of Kaji and the words died on their tongues. ‘Damaji Aleverak will administer the punishments here and now.’

He set the spear butt on the dais with a thump that made several clerics flinch. ‘Sharak Ka is upon us, Damaji. We have no more time to fight among ourselves. From now on, these matters will be handled within your closed council. Waste my time like this again, and the next whippings will be in the city square for all to see.’

Faces blanched as Jardir descended the seven steps from his dais and strode past them, following Inevera.

Jardir watched the sway of Inevera’s hips as she strode into her pillow chamber, mesmerized as always by her beauty. Like his warriors who absorbed demon magic each night in alagai’sharak, years of manipulating alagai hora had lent his First Wife the air of immortality. She moved with the confidence of a matriarch, yet despite being forty-two and having borne him several children, her curves still had the bounce of a woman on the bright side of thirty.

But only a fool would think her value lay in her beauty. Would he be where he was today without Inevera? Would he have seized power when the opportunity came to him? Would it even have come, or would he be just another illiterate dal’Sharum — or worse, a bleached skull in Sharik Hora?

And I love her still, he thought, hating himself for the weakness. There were times he dared dream that she loved him in return, but in his heart he could not trust her. Not since the Andrah.

An image of the two of them entwined flashed in his mind’s eye, Inevera beautiful and seductive as ever as she rode the fat old man, manipulating him to her ends much as she did Jardir. What did her cries of pleasure in their marital pillows mean, now that he saw how easily she feigned them?

The Damajah’s pillow chamber had been completely remodelled since Ahmann’s last visit, when he stole inside with Leesha Paper. It had given them both pleasure to mark Inevera’s special place, the lovemaking intense and passionate. If his intent had been to hurt her, it seemed he had succeeded. His Jiwah Ka had never spoken of the incident, but there had been a fire in the room the next day, destroying everything down to the stone walls. Officially, an oil lamp had accidentally tipped onto a pillow, but palace rumour had Inevera storming out of the burning room with a flame demon skull in hand. Now any hint of Leesha Paper was expunged.

For some reason, this only made Jardir love her more.

She is the Damajah. Her jealousy is a storm, and she will suffer no woman to stand above her. Did not Kaji ponder in his private diaries the same questions of his Jiwah Ka? The holy verses said she vexed him and soothed him in turn, for the Deliverer’s First Wife was his zahven.

Outside the room, there was a crack, and a cry. Damaji Qezan had forgotten his lessons on embracing pain, it seemed. This refresher was a good one. Aleverak scolded his weakness, and the next blow was borne with only a gasp. The third in silence.

Not bothering to light a lamp, Inevera moved to close the thick curtains that hung beside the room’s great windows. As she shrouded them in darkness, Jardir’s senses came alive.

The Crown of Kaji had always conveyed wardsight, much as the coins on Inevera’s brow, but ever since the fight with the mind demon when the greater powers of his crown came alive, he had begun to see more — auras surrounding people that told him their feelings and gave him insight into their motives. Suddenly the infinite wisdom of Kaji began to make sense. With the crownsight to see the hearts of his people, Jardir could be a greater leader by far.

More, he realized that he could tap into the power of the crown and spear at will. During the day, he could pull power from the ancient artefacts to heal himself, ignore exhaustion, or give himself superhuman strength and speed. It was a powerful advantage, but not without its limitations.

In the darkness, many of those limitations faded away. He was powerful like he never dreamed possible, but, with Waning approaching, he feared in his heart it was still not enough.

Inevera moved to her favoured casting pillow, and Jardir moved to take the one facing as was his habit. Outside, Damaji Ichach’s punishment had begun, and the cleric shamed himself by weeping. Jardir turned his attention from it as Inevera drew the curved blade that had cut him countless times over the years.

‘What shall I ask first?’ she said.

Her aura pulsed on the word first, and Jardir knew she had already used the dice for her own purposes. It was not a lie precisely, but it told him much. Inevera had always kept her own plans a mystery while insisting she be privy to his.

Jardir rolled his sleeve and held out his arm. She pressed the sharp point into a vein and tipped a small bowl to catch the flow. When it was full, she pressed her thumb against the vein and reached for her herb pouch.

‘There is no need,’ Jardir said, pulling a touch of power from the spear resting beside him. He lifted his arm from her grasp, showing that the blood flow had ceased and the wound closed. Inevera eyed the healing in surprise, but he gave her no time to question. ‘Let us begin with Abban’s plan to assault Docktown on first snow. Those plans must be set in motion soon, if we are to have the advantage of surprise.’

Hatred skittered across Inevera’s aura at the mention of Abban. He knew she blamed the khaffit for their rift, and did not trust him. She was eager to prove her worth by showing him the errors in the plan and offering better advice in turn.

But these were surface feelings. At her centre she was calm as she reached for the dice, spilling a bit of his blood upon them as she whispered her prayers and shook. As always, the evil glow pulsing between her fingers unsettled him.

Inevera cast the dice down and spent a few moments staring at them, studying the pattern. Jardir studied her in turn, searching her aura for hints of truth behind her coming words. She was not pleased with the results. This much was clear.

‘You cannot go back,’ she said, staring at the patterns. ‘And you cannot afford to stand still. The only way is forward. The khaffit’s,’ she hissed the word, ‘plan will spare many lives.’

‘More to stand in Sharak Ka,’ Jardir said.

‘Or oppose you later,’ Inevera noted. It was good advice, but her aura said it was spoken more in bitterness at having to admit Abban was right.

‘That is a risk I must take,’ Jardir said. ‘What else do the dice say? Tell me everything for once, and spare me the dissembling!’

Inevera’s aura flashed at him, telling him to step wisely. She wanted to impress him, but her pride was a mountain. He could not bully her as he did the Damaji.

‘Doom befall the armies of the Deliverer if they should march north with enemies unconquered at their back.’ She tilted her head, examining the dice from another angle. ‘You cannot take your forces to the Hollow without first taking Lakton, nor Angiers without the Hollow beside you.’

‘Of that, at least, I am unconcerned,’ Jardir said. ‘The Hollow tribe will follow me when called.’

An image of Mistress Leesha hovered ghostlike above Inevera, connected to her by anger, jealousy, and hate. It was a vision he had seen before, but there was genuine doubt beneath this veneer. Inevera did not believe the Hollow as secure as he did. She thought him a fool to be so trusting. ‘You will not have the loyalty of the Hollow until you kill the Painted Man. The one they call Deliverer.’

It was clear from her aura that this was her opinion and not that of the dice, but it was sound advice. Leesha loved him, he did not doubt, and was fated to marry him and bring him her tribe, but it would not happen without confronting this false Deliverer and throwing him down.

He nodded. ‘Is there anything else?’

Irritation skittered along Inevera’s aura, never touching her face or bearing. Her eyes drifted along the dozens of facing symbols, all glowing with varying degrees of brightness, following paths of meaning. He recognized some symbols, but their meaning had ever been beyond him. Sometimes he thought to command the dama’ting teach him to read the dice, but knew they would baulk, and Inevera find a way to prevent it. Even the Evejah said it was a woman’s art.

Finally, Inevera spoke. ‘You must lead your armies if they are to achieve victory in the Daylight War, but do not leave the Skull Throne vacant too long. You have fifty-two sons, and they will all eye it hungrily.’

Jardir frowned. Jayan and Asome coveted the throne, he knew. Perhaps making the boy Andrah was best after all. ‘Are any of my sons worthy to sit it in my absence, and willing to stand back up upon my return?’

Inevera cut her own hand, dripping her own blood on the dice in addition to Jardir’s as she cast again. She studied the pattern for only a moment before looking up. ‘No.’

‘No?’ Jardir asked. ‘Just “no”?’

Inevera shrugged. ‘It is not as I would have it, either, husband, but the dice are clear. I have cast the dice for thousands of men, and never found another with your potential.’

There. It was clear in her aura, shining like a beacon through her mask of dama’ting serenity.

She was lying. There was another.

Anger filled him. Who was this man, or boy? Why was she protecting him? Did she mean to supplant him if he should prove too difficult to control?

He embraced the feeling as quickly as it came, showing no sign. He was not a manipulator like Inevera or Abban, dissembling with half-truths, omissions, and leading statements, but he was learning to keep his thoughts to himself, giving them no thread to spin, much as he denied opponents energy to turn against him in sharusahk. He set aside the concern for later. For now, he had more pressing questions.

‘How can I throw back my enemies in the coming Waning?’ he asked.

Again Inevera wet the dice with his blood and cast the bones to the floor. She saw something that made her aura become one of sharp concentration, crawling on her knees to study the pattern from all sides. Her gossamer clothing pulled tight, presenting her much as she was in lovemaking, but her growing aura of fear drove such thoughts from his mind. She was seeing something she did not wish to tell him, and was searching for a way out of it. He wanted to shout at her, to demand what she was seeing, but forced himself to remain calm.

At last she looked at him. ‘The Deliverer must go into the night alone to hunt the centre of the web, or all will be lost when Alagai Ka and his princelings come. But even if you survive, there will be a heavy price.’

He looked at her, seeing the fear in her aura reach out and clutch at him. She did not want him to risk himself. Was it born of love, or was her replacement simply not ready? There was no way to know. He hated himself for considering the latter, but she had already deceived him more than once.

‘Princelings?’ he asked instead. ‘How many? What web?’

‘Seven will rise, one for each layer of Nie’s abyss,’ Inevera said, ‘but only three will strike at Everam’s Bounty.’

‘“Only”, you say.’ Jardir shook his head. ‘Everam’s beard. One nearly proved our undoing.’

‘You were not prepared then,’ Inevera said.

‘It infiltrated the palace, Inevera,’ Jardir said. ‘Slipped past the work of our finest Warders like it was nothing.’

‘We have added protections since,’ Inevera said. ‘The alagai princes will not penetrate our warding so easily now, and I will cast the dice to find the weakest points of our net and bolster them.’

Jardir nodded. ‘And this web?’

Inevera shrugged. ‘Of that, I can tell you nothing.’

‘No attempts to dissuade me from this course?’ he asked.

His Jiwah Ka shook her head sadly. ‘It is inevera. Sharak Ka is yours to win, husband.’

Or lose. Inevera did not speak the words, but they were clear in her aura. His success was by no means assured.

‘Where will the demons strike hardest?’ Jardir asked, his most pressing question. ‘Where should I position my forces?’

Inevera cast again, staring for a long time at the result. At last, she sighed. ‘I do not know. There are too many variables. I will try again in the coming days.’

‘Every day,’ Jardir said. ‘A hundred times if you must. Nothing is more important.’

Inevera bowed slightly, lifting the dice one last time. ‘We will cast now for the coming day.’

Jardir nodded. This was a practice they had done nightly for almost twenty years. Some days, the dice told him nothing — at least, nothing Inevera chose to share — but others they warned of hidden knives and poison, or when to be ready to seize an advantage.

Inevera tipped the last of his blood onto the dice and shook as she said the words Jardir had heard countless times. ‘Everam, giver of light and life, I beseech you, give this lowly servant knowledge of what is to come. Tell me of Ahmann, son of Hoshkamin, last scion of the line of Jardir, the seventh son of Kaji.’

She threw, and the dice scattered wide, symbols pulsing in patterns he could not hope to comprehend.

‘You will give the dama’ting a powerful gift today,’ Inevera said.

‘Kind of me,’ Jardir noted. He saw no deception in his wife, but that did not mean his gift would be a willing one, rather than something duped from him.

Inevera gave no indication she had heard him. ‘You will gain warriors tonight, but lose others on the morrow.’

‘Gain at night?’ Jardir asked. ‘Lose during the day? How is this possible?’

‘I do not know,’ Inevera said, but Jardir could see in her aura that her words were only half true, and had to suppress a flash of anger. What secrets was she hiding? How was he to lead their people to victory when his own wife kept secrets about his warriors?

As they had frequently in recent weeks, his thoughts turned to Leesha Paper. The woman could be vexing in her own ways, but he did not believe she had ever lied to him. He wished she was here by his side, not this … tunnel asp.

‘Not long after sunrise tomorrow, an unexpected Messenger will bring you ill tidings,’ Inevera went on.

‘That happens every day,’ Jardir said, hardly caring any more.

Inevera shook her head. ‘This one has passed through death to see his missive delivered.’

That got Jardir’s attention, and he looked up at her as she squinted at the dice. ‘His message will bring you pain.’

He saw no deception in her, but as she spoke the words, her aura pulsed. There was nothing in her expression, no outward sign, but to his eyes it was plain as day.

Empathy. Without even knowing the cause, her heart had cried out for him, when she realized he would be hurt. His pain was her pain.

He reached out to her, his anger gone, and gently touched her face. She looked at him, and her aura had never shone so bright.

Whatever else she might feel, wherever her loyalties might lie, she loved him.

Oh, my Jiwah Ka, Jardir thought sadly. How I have wronged you.

‘The Deliverer is not to be disturbed, khaffit!’ Jardir heard Hasik’s growl even through the covered walls and door of Inevera’s pillow chamber. With the crown atop his head, he could hear the wind buffeting the wings of birds high in the sky, and his ajin’pal was not a quiet man.

Jardir sat up, waking Inevera in the process. Abban.

He looked at Inevera and smiled, trying to convey all the love he felt for her, and knowing it fell short. Inevera’s return smile was genuine, and her aura gave back his love with equal fervour.

He kissed her again. ‘Duty calls, beloved.’

She nodded, helping him into his raiment before seeing to her own. When they were composed, they left the chamber, returning to the throne room.

It was empty, but it was little surprise after Asome’s lesson. Jardir sniffed, smelling the blood of the Damaji spattered on the carpet.

He pointed to a few drops. ‘Ichach.’ He sniffed again and turned, pointing a few feet away. ‘Qezan.’

Inevera nodded, taking special cloths from her pouch and carefully blotting up as much of the blood as possible for her spells. If his Damaji were to turn on him over this indignity, he wished to know of it. His Jama and Khanjin sons were still in their nie’dama bidos, but he would raise them himself if necessary to keep his tribes unified.

He strode up the steps to the Skull Throne, throwing back his warded cloak as he sat. He waited for Inevera to join him on the dais, then clapped his hands loudly. Immediately, Hasik appeared at the door, bowing deeply.

‘Show Abban in,’ Jardir said. Hasik had a surprised look on his face, but he nodded, and a moment later the fat khaffit appeared at the door, bowing as low as his crutch would allow.

‘Abban, my friend!’ Jardir beckoned the khaffit. Inevera shifted beside him, and he did not need to see her aura to know what she was feeling. He had seen Abban’s aura, and knew the khaffit harboured similar feelings towards his First Wife.

No matter, he thought. They must learn to abide each other.

Abban stopped at the base of the dais, but Jardir waved him still closer. ‘You may climb three steps,’ he smiled, ‘one for each of your legs.’

Abban smirked, tapping his crutch against his leg. ‘My wives would tell you that meant I could take a fourth step as well.’

To Jardir’s surprise, Inevera laughed at this, and Jardir nodded. ‘I remember you in your bido, and think your wives flatter you, but the sound of the Damajah’s laughter pleases me. You may take the fourth step.’ Abban ascended quickly, not questioning his fortune.

‘We have consulted on your plan, and find it sound,’ Jardir said. ‘We will attack Docktown on first snow. Begin the preparations, but say nothing to anyone.’

Abban bowed. ‘The longer the secret is kept, the less chance the Laktonians will have to flee. If I had my way, even your generals would know nothing until the time came to signal the attack.’

‘It is sound advice,’ Inevera agreed.

Jardir nodded. ‘But that is not why you come to me today, Abban, and I have not summoned you. What draws you from the centre of your web?’

‘My people have made a … delicate discovery,’ Abban said. For an instant his eyes flicked to Inevera.

Jardir sighed. Was there no trust to be found anywhere in his court? ‘Speak.’

Abban bowed again, reaching into a pocket in the fine tan vest he wore over his colourful silk shirt. He withdrew the hand, holding out a lump of silvery metal.

Inevera stiffened, and Jardir, too, recognized it immediately. He was out of the throne in an instant, snatching it from the khaffit’s hand. He hadn’t held it a moment before Inevera snatched it in turn, holding it to the light, this way and that.

‘This is the same metal as the Spear and Crown of Kaji,’ she said, voicing all their thoughts.

Abban nodded. ‘Our metallurgists have long sought to unlock the secrets of the artefacts of the first Deliverer. Too pale to be gold, but neither were they silver, or platinum. Our best guess had been white gold, an alloy made by adding nickel to pure gold. Jewellers in the bazaar have been using it for centuries.’ He smiled. ‘Cheaper than gold, it sells for nearly twice the price to fools who think it exotic. This,’ he pointed to the lump of metal, ‘is electrum.’

‘Electrum?’ Jardir asked.

‘A natural alloy of silver and gold, I am told,’ Abban said.

Jardir’s eyes narrowed. ‘Told by whom?’

Abban turned, clapping loudly as Jardir himself had done before. Immediately Hasik appeared at the door. ‘Show in our guest,’ Abban called. Hasik glared at him, but when Jardir did not countermand the order, he vanished, escorting a Rizonan man into the room. The man was old, squinting in the light, his face and hands smudged with dirt. He held a hat in his hands.

‘Rennick, master of one of Shar’Dama Ka’s gold mines,’ Abban introduced. Hasik grabbed the man roughly, forcing him to his knees and pressing his forehead to the floor.

‘Enough,’ Jardir said. ‘Hasik. Leave us.’ The warrior pursed his lips, but bowed and vanished again.

‘You, Master Rennick, approach the dais,’ Jardir called. ‘Tell us what you know of this metal.’

Rennick approached, wringing the hat in his hands like a laundress. ‘It’s like I said to Abban, Yur Grace. That there is electrum. Seen it once before, when I was a boy working another mine down south. The signs are in the rock. Vein of silver ran into the gold. It don’t happen often, and there ent much of it. Yur mine is safe.’

Safe, Jardir thought, as if I care a whit for gold.

‘Can you make more of it?’ Jardir asked.

The miner shrugged. ‘Reckon so, though maybe not as pure. But why? Might fetch a fair price as a novelty, but it ent worth as much as pure gold.’

Jardir nodded, then clapped again, signalling Hasik to remove the man. ‘Make sure that man does not speak to anyone,’ he told Abban.

‘Already done,’ Abban said. ‘He will be taken right to the forges where my private smiths work, and never seen again. His family will be told he was killed in a cave-in, and compensated handsomely.’ Jardir nodded.

‘I must take it to my chamber and confirm its power,’ Inevera said.

Jardir nodded. ‘We will wait.’

Inevera looked at Abban, and Jardir cut her off with a chopping motion of his hand. ‘I am not a fool, wife. I see how you and Abban look at each other, circling my throne and marking it with your piss. But I have chosen to trust the two of you, and in this, at least, you must trust each other.’

Inevera drew in her brows, but she nodded, disappearing into her chamber and returning several minutes later.

‘What is more precious than gold?’ she asked.

Jardir looked to Abban, and both men shrugged.

‘It is an ancient question of the dama’ting seeking the Damajah’s sacred metal,’ Inevera said. ‘Precious metals conduct magic better than base ones, but even gold cannot transfer without loss.’ She held up the lump of electrum. ‘At long last, we have found the answer.’

Jardir took the lump, studying it. He lifted it and put his teeth to it, seeing the imprint they left. ‘But the crown and spear are harder than the finest steel. No hammer or forge can even scratch them. This metal is soft. It will not even hold an edge.’

‘Not now, perhaps,’ Inevera said, ‘but when charged with magic, it will be indestructible.’

Jardir felt a tingle in his crotch at the word. The thought of making more weapons as powerful as his spear was intoxicating. Suddenly winning Sharak Ka seemed within his grasp. ‘Imagine the power my warriors will have …’

Abban cleared his throat, interrupting the thought.

‘A thousand apologies, Deliverer,’ the khaffit said when Jardir looked to him, ‘but do not put the cart before the camel. As Rennick said, there is but a small vein of the stuff.’

‘How small?’ Jardir asked. He gave Abban a hard look. ‘I will know if you lie to me, Abban.’

Abban shrugged. ‘Thirty pounds? Perhaps fifty? Not enough to arm even the Spears of the Deliverer. And, I might add, you might think twice about arming any warrior with such a potent weapon, lest he begin to have delusions of grandeur.’ He smiled. ‘It’s been known to happen.’

Jardir scowled, but Inevera broke in. ‘I agree with the khaffit.’

Jardir looked at her in surprise. ‘Twice in one day? Everam’s wonders never cease.’

‘Do not grow accustomed to it,’ Inevera said drily. ‘But in this case, your weaponsmiths are not the ones best suited to make use of this discovery.’

Jardir looked at her a long time, remembering her words in the pillow chamber.

You will give the dama’ting a powerful gift today.

He nodded. ‘So be it.’

Safe in her Chamber of Shadows, Inevera stared at the lump of electrum in her left hand while slowly rolling her alagai hora in her right. She marvelled as thin tendrils of ambient magic wafted towards the electrum and were absorbed, the way a slight draught might pull at smoke. Even without wards the metal Drew, glowing dully in the wardlight.

Dama’ting frequently made jewellery with demon bone cores, but it was forbidden to coat the dice, for the transfer with other precious metals was imperfect, and had been proven to affect foretelling. She looked at her precious dice, restored at last, and smiled. She was already preparing to carve another set as a safeguard, but now she need never fear exposing them to the sun again.

Already she was pondering other applications. Hora were destroyed when their power was expended, but coated in electrum, they could be recharged, used again and again, as the Spear of Kaji. Abban had not lied when he said this power was too great to be trusted to common soldiers. Even dama’ting would stop at nothing to get more of the metal if they learned its origins. She might gift electrum-coated hora to her most trusted followers, but she would need to prepare it all herself. She looked around the chamber, considering how best to vent a forge so deep underground without sacrificing the security of her private Vault.

At last she breathed deeply, clearing her mind, and put the metal away. She cast her bones once more, hoping to glean a few last clues of the night to come, then left the Chamber of Shadows.

She kept her centre, but the wind was strong. For all the precautions she might take, the secret of the metal was already in the hands of the one she trusted least.

As she felt the Vault door lock behind her, she made a slight gesture, and three eunuch Watchers melted out of the shadows to stand before her. These were Enkido’s finest protégés, men who did not exist, trained to walk unseen even in crowded day, to stand motionless for hours, to climb sheer walls, and to kill quickly and silently. Tongueless, they could not speak, but they knew well how to listen.

Follow the Shar’Dama Ka’s khaffit, Inevera told them with quick gestures of her nimble fingers. Track his every movement, and report to me everyone he speaks with, everywhere he goes. Infiltrate the fortress he is building, and take stock of the secrets within.

The men moved their fingers in perfect unison, like mirror images of one another. We understand, and obey. They bowed, and vanished as Inevera began the long climb back up to the palace proper.

Even after months, Jardir still marvelled at the lightness of his fighting robes as Inevera helped him prepare for the night’s alagai’sharak. No longer thick material housing metal plates, he now wore thin silk that could be quickly cast aside to bring his skin, scarred into fighting and protective wards, to bear. He was now safer naked than in the strongest armour.

‘I will join you tonight as you walk the naked night,’ Inevera said, when the dressing was done.

Jardir looked at her, but the sun had not quite set, and her aura was hidden. ‘I do not think that is wise, beloved. Alagai’sharak is no …’

Inevera hissed, dismissing his words with a wave. ‘You will walk the night with Leesha Paper, but not your Jiwah Ka?’

In his heart, Jardir knew the anger on her face was only a mask. He would bet his crown that she had planned this conversation well in advance, likely with the aid of her dice. But even so, he could not deny the effectiveness of her scowl.

Perhaps it was because she was right.

The look softened immediately, and Inevera pressed in so close he could feel the warmth and softness of her skin through his silk robes. ‘I battled at your side against an alagai prince and his bodyguard,’ she reminded him. ‘What need I fear of common demons when I walk at the side of Shar’Dama Ka?’

‘Even common demons must be respected,’ he said, though he knew she had already won. ‘Forget that for an instant, and even the Damajah can be killed.’ He reached out, sliding his hand under the vaporous silks to caress the smooth skin between her breasts, feeling the beat of her heart. ‘Chosen of Everam or not, we are but flesh and blood.’

Inevera moved into his caress, snaking her own hands into his robes. ‘I will not forget, beloved.’ She traced her fingers over the wards she had cut into his chest. ‘But do not forget that as you have your protections, I have my own.’

Jardir smiled. ‘Of that, I have no doubt.’

They left the palace together, Inevera resting in a palanquin atop a camel and Jardir on his white charger. They were followed by the amazed stares of everyone they passed, but none dared speak a word of protest.

Despite his words, Jardir did not truly fear for his bride. Most of the demons had been cleared from his territory, and the thin remainder served as little more than a training exercise for his men.

Everam’s Bounty was built like the head of a sunflower with the city proper as its centre, spreading out into vast petals of farm and pasture. The central city was Jardir’s personal territory, and tribe neutral. It consisted of an inner walled district surrounded by a much larger outer city. The petals he had given to the tribes according to their size. The Kaji, Majah, and Mehnding controlled huge territories of individually warded farmland and villages. The smaller tribes were given as much land as they could hold, and to spare. Even so, there were chin villages on the outskirts that had yet to fully take the yoke, simply because there were not enough Sharum and dama to minister them.

Many of Jardir’s warriors remained spread over these territories — both a weakness and a strength. Decentralizing his forces weakened them in some ways, but it made it as difficult for the alagai to choose targets as it was for him to guess where they would strike hardest. Each tribe had its own strongholds and was responsible for seeing as many of its people and as much of its produce as possible through the Waning. But all sent Jayan a tithe of their best men to defend the capital.

Jayan was at the training grounds when they arrived, supervising the muster of these elite warriors. His white turban singled him out from a distance, surrounded by his white-veiled kai’Sharum. Asome was with him, leading the men in prayer to almighty Everam before the sun set and Nie’s abyss opened.

The two men looked up at their approach, and despite their rivalry, Jardir could not deny his pleasure at seeing his eldest sons standing together, leading his forces. As children they had dreamed of being Sharum Ka and Andrah, a dream shared by their father. Already, Jayan had taken his title, and Asome was readying for his.

Jayan bowed deeply, but his disapproval was clear as he eyed his mother, outside after the dama had sung the curfew. Asome likely shared his opinion, but the younger man’s face was blank, revealing nothing. Jayan had learned well the strategy and fighting skills of the dama in Sharik Hora, but their discipline had been a harder lesson. Not for the first time, Jardir wondered at the wisdom of giving him the white turban when he was so young. It was difficult to teach a man discipline when he already sat a throne.

‘Your warriors stand ready for inspection, Father,’ Jayan said. While not skilled at hiding his feelings, he wasn’t fool enough to disrespect his mother by speaking his thoughts aloud. It was not out of respect for his father — though they both knew Jardir would not hesitate to put the boy down should he think himself above the Damajah. Inevera had instilled fear of her own into her sons, and even now they grew chill at the notion of disobedience.

None of your sons is worthy, the dice had said, and in his heart Jardir knew it to be true. With the magic of the crown and spear strengthening him and keeping him young, Jardir might live for centuries, as did Kaji. But he was not fool enough to fail to prepare for his death. If he could not find an heir to take his place as Shar’Dama Ka, perhaps he could leave Jayan the spear and Asome the crown. Again he wondered at the secret Inevera was keeping from him. Who was the other she had seen?

Inevera took in the assembled warriors, and Jardir felt himself swell with pride. In the years since he had taken the white turban of Sharum Ka, he had built them up with blood and sweat from a loose group of shrinking tribal militias to an elite fighting force unified in purpose and growing exponentially in number.

Even the assembled kha’Sharum and chi’Sharum were marching with precision. He had been amazed at how effective the khaffit warriors had proven, and while most greenlanders remained soft and cowardly, many were finding their hearts. The rest would slow the alagai long enough for his real warriors to slaughter them, and go to Everam clean of spirit.

He looked to Inevera, but she only shrugged. ‘It is as I expected. Let us tour the defences.’

Jardir tried not to feel stung as he turned to Jayan and Asome. ‘The inner city is yours tonight, my sons. We will range as the Damajah wills. The Spears of the Deliverer will see to our protection.’

Inevera touched his arm. ‘I would feel safer, beloved, with our sons leading our honour guard.’

Jardir looked at her curiously, wishing the sun would set so he could pierce the veil of serenity on her face to find the truth of her intentions. At last he shrugged.

Jayan turned, giving last orders to his kai’Sharum. Immediately the units began to break out of the training ground on their way to their posts.

Asome bowed deeply. ‘It is our honour to escort our divine mother.’ He called for his horse, a white charger like the one his father rode, save for a black diamond at its forehead. Jayan signalled for his, a black charger with white fetlocks and muzzle. They flanked Jardir and Inevera as they rode, followed in turn by the Spears of the Deliverer on their great black mustang.

As they conducted the tour Jardir lamented — not for the first time — how woefully insecure the greenland city was. The very weaknesses that had allowed his warriors to take ‘Fort’ Rizon so easily made the coming Waning fill him with dread. In time he would make Everam’s Bounty more impregnable than the Desert Spear itself, but for now he was left to work with what the lax Northern barbarians had built.

The inner city was the most defensible area, but also the most obvious target, as it housed the grain silos and Jardir’s seat of power. It was also where, lacking a proper Undercity, the women and children of the outer regions would be sent to take refuge. Even the chin were to be taken in. The Damaji had protested, but Jardir ignored them. It was the duty of men to protect women and children. Even chin.

The greenlanders claimed no alagai had penetrated the inner city in a century, but Jardir suspected it was because it had never truly been tested. The wardwall was barely taller than most rock demons. His stonemasons and Warders had been adding to it since they took the city, but it was still pathetic compared with the great wardwall of the Desert Spear. Jardir looked at the scorpions and stone slingers lining the newly built crenellations and hoped they would be enough to hold back a more direct assault. He was prepared for fighting in the streets of the main city, but if it came to that, it would mean the battle was going very badly.

The next line of defence was the outer city, several times the size of the inner and protected by a wardwall so low a man could leap over it. This wall had stone wardpillars like the obelisks of Anoch Sun set every twenty feet, casting overlapping protections to strengthen the defensive field.

Pillars throughout the outer city linked with it and one another, maintaining a net to cover the land from above as well, protecting the New Bazaar, orchards, and farmland that the inner city needed to survive.

The territory had been too vast for the chin to ward completely, leaving many pockets large enough for demons to rise. These were hunted clean each night, but places where the demons could infiltrate if they rose in numbers. Even with thousands of chin conscripts, Jardir did not have enough men to guard them all.

Yet despite these weaknesses, the outer city was surprisingly defensible. A single thrown boulder could take out a wardpillar, but the gap would soon be closed by another, each able to work independent of the others. This created a Maze of sorts, and his men knew well how to fight in a Maze, filling it with lures, pits, and ambush points. Alagai attempting to make their way to the inner city’s walls would be harried every step of the way.

Darkness fell as they rode, and with it came the welcome glow of crownsight. He felt his senses sharpen even further as his powers came to life, picking out the cries of alagai and the clash of spears and shields as the Sharum made their ambushes. It seemed a sin that Jardir felt more comfortable at night than in the day, but no thing happened but that Everam willed it. The Shar’Dama Ka needed to be at home in darkness.

He glanced at his sons, and took hope seeing they, too, were pondering the defences. Occasionally they came upon groups of Sharum engaged in fighting, but in most cases it was firmly under control, with seasoned warriors using the sparse demons as living lessons to the less experienced. Once they witnessed a more protracted battle, but even that was handled smoothly without need of their interference.

‘Have you seen all you wish, my wife?’ Jardir asked after they had ridden for more than an hour. He watched her aura carefully, but it was calm and smooth, telling him nothing.

‘Almost, husband.’ Inevera pointed to a hillock not far off. ‘But first, perhaps we could have a greater vantage atop there?’

Jardir nodded, and they set off. It came as no surprise when the sounds of battle reached his ears.

From atop the hill, they saw a reap of field demons in the valley below, circling a pair of slender dal’Sharum standing back-to-back. The warriors seemed unharmed, but they were outnumbered more than three to one, and thus unlikely to remain so. On foot, the warriors could not hope to escape. Even Krasian chargers could not outsprint a field demon.

Jardir tensed, ready to gallop to their aid, when Inevera raised a hand. ‘Just watch, beloved. We are not meant to interfere.’

All three men looked at Inevera, but she sat serene in her palanquin, her aura calm, though laced with satisfaction. They turned back, watching the battle unfold.

‘Who are they?’ Jayan wondered. ‘What unit are they from? This pocket isn’t due to be swept for another hour.’

Just then the largest of the field demons broke the circling ring to leap at one of the warriors who seemed to have dropped his guard. It was a lure, and the warrior whirled the moment the attack came, driving his spear right down its throat. Another demon leapt at the opening, but the warrior’s partner had his shield in place to block. He struck a blow of his own, hard in the foreleg joint, that sent the demon skittering back with a yelp.

From the other side of the ring, more attacks came, but the first warrior pulled his ichor-stained spear free and they rotated a quarter turn in perfect precision to put his shield in place.

So impressed was Jardir with the warriors’ skill, it took him a moment to realize there had been no flare of magic when the warriors struck. He looked to Inevera. ‘Their spears are not warded?’

Inevera shook her head. ‘They fight in the old way, as did my honoured husband.’

‘Everam’s beard,’ Jayan said. Even he had never faced an alagai without a warded weapon. Asome was silent, but he drew wards in the air, blessing the combatants.

Without combat magic the Sharum blows had to be precise, for the demons’ armour had few weaknesses, and they healed quickly. The field demons struck like lightning, flashing paws and snapping jaws, sometimes darting in low and others standing on hind legs to strike high. After the first of them fell, its fellows grew more cautious, the quick and agile beasts dodging return blows the moment they began.

But the warriors fought like nothing Jardir had ever seen, working in perfect unison, like a single fighter with two heads and four arms. Again and again the demons were thrown back, until one, struck what seemed a glancing blow by one of the warriors, had its leg collapse under it. The pair had already begun to turn, and the other warrior put the sharp point of his spear into its eye socket and the brain beyond, killing it.

They might have fallen into a more defensive posture then, but instead the warriors exploded into motion, spinning to let a pouncing demon get between them. They stepped together hard, the defensive wards on their shields flaring and crushing the demon between them.

Now outnumbered two to one, the warriors grew more bold, stepping apart and letting the demons surround them.

Fools, Jardir thought. Why give up the advantage?

But the warriors had given up nothing. The demons came at them from all sides, but they used their shields to maximum effect, whipping their spears to parry and harry as they moved, every step in control. A demon charged one headlong while his shield and spear were out wide, but the warrior leaned forward and kicked his foot up behind him like a scorpion to strike over his head. The demon took the blow to the face, knocking it aside. Before it could recover, he was on its fellow, striking a precise blow down its throat for another kill.

The other warrior had finished a demon as well, and fighting one-to-one they dropped their shields, forgoing defence entirely. The demons attacking them went for the bait, snapping their jaws forward, but the warriors, like mirror images of each other, caught the bites on the shafts of their spears, twisting before the wood could shatter and turning the demons’ own momentum against them. They swung, slamming the flailing demons together, taking satisfaction at the deep gouges their talons left on one another. They snapped their spears back into position and struck at the wounds, driving into the vulnerable flesh beneath.

They stood breathless, regarding the alagai corpses around them. One twitched, but the nearest warrior was quick to finish it off as Inevera kicked her camel and headed down the hill towards them.

Jardir and the others followed, awestruck. When they closed in, the warriors bowed deeply, first to Inevera, and then to Jardir. When they straightened, Jardir’s eyes nearly bulged from his head. Their warrior’s garb hid much, but their auras could not hide the curves of their bodies.

Women.

‘Shar’Dama Ka,’ their melodious voices said in unison, ‘we come before you to answer your call. We pray these alagai are a worthy sacrifice for the first of your Sharum’ting.’

‘Sharum … ting?’ Jayan said in disbelief.

In response, the women reached up, removing their turbans and veils with the same synchronous precision with which they fought. Jardir held his breath, having already identified them by their auras. Inevera was clever. He could not deny it. But she had struck a hornets’ nest this time. Even Asome’s calm was broken. ‘What in Nie’s abyss?!’

‘Shanvah?’ Shanjat demanded, seeing his daughter, Jardir’s niece by his sister Hoshvah, standing before them.

But it was the other woman that caused Asome’s aura to flare so bright with rage that Jardir felt blinded by it even in periphery. Ashia, Ashan’s daughter by his eldest sister, Imisandre.

Asome’s First Wife.

Dawn was approaching; the stained-glass windows of the throne room beginning to fill with colour. Every ancient rite of Sharum naming had been observed. The young women had more than fulfilled the demon killing requirements, standing face-to-face with alagai in the naked night and not giving ground. Inevera had cast the bones for them, and — of course — pronounced them worthy. Now all that was left was to wait for sunrise, and his decision.

It was not an easy decision to make. Beyond the far-reaching cultural implications, either choice would directly cost him respect and loyalty from valuable allies and family.

He looked at Inevera, her aura still infuriatingly self-satisfied. She loved him, but that was not the same as being on his side. She seemed almost bored as she lounged on her bed of pillows, but beneath she was intensely focused.

Beside her on his throne, Jardir watched as Asome and Ashia quietly argued in a small alcove at the far end of the room. It took only a little concentration to see through the stone and make out their auras. His sharp ears picked up every word.

‘How can you shame me like this?’ Asome demanded, his hands shaking. Jardir had made a point of reminding him that he considered striking his sister’s daughters as great a crime as striking a dama’ting, but Asome’s aura showed he was considering it anyway.

‘Shame you?’ Ashia’s aura was flat and even, like that of a warrior who had embraced her fears and let them fall away. ‘Husband, you should be proud of me. Shanvah and I are the first Krasian women in history to stand in the night and be baptized in demon ichor. How does this bring anything but honour to your name?’

‘Honour?’ Asome asked. ‘As you parade around unveiled in men’s clothes? Where is the honour in every man I meet thinking I cannot control my own wife?’

‘I do not wish to be controlled!’ Ashia snapped. ‘You and my brother may have convinced my father to give me to you, but it was never my desire.’

‘Am I unworthy?’ Asome asked. ‘The Deliverer’s second son is not enough for you? Perhaps you wish you had been given to Jayan?’

‘I, too, am blood of the Deliverer,’ Ashia said, ‘and a princess of the Kaji. I do not wish be given to anyone!’

Asome shook his head, genuine confusion in his aura. ‘Have I not been a good husband? Given you everything you desire? Put a child in you?’

‘You and Asukaji have never cared a whit for my desires,’ Ashia said. ‘You dressed me in silk and bathed me in luxuries, but otherwise haven’t given me a thought, save on our wedding night when Asukaji watched and stroked his cock as you put a child in me, and forty weeks later when the two of you ripped my newborn son from my arms.’

‘I will give you more children,’ Asome said. ‘Sons. Daughters …’ Jardir could see him desperately trying to understand her desires, if only to deter her and save face.

‘No,’ Ashia said. ‘I am not just a womb to carry your children because Asukaji cannot! You and your pillow friend have the son you wanted. Now I will have my own life.’

Asome’s aura went red then, and Ashia’s showed she knew her husband was about to strike her — was goading him even. She had already planned her parry and return blows.

‘Asome!’ Jardir boomed. ‘Attend me!’ Man and wife turned to him, the moment shattered. Asome strode away from his wife without another look.

‘Father!’ he called. ‘You cannot permit this madness to continue!’

‘I agree,’ Ashan said, standing at the base of the throne with Asukaji. His aura made clear his expectation that Jardir, out of the love and loyalty they shared, would not condemn his foolish daughter to life as a Sharum.

‘I gave my word, Ashan,’ Jardir said. ‘I will not be forsworn.’

‘The Deliverer is correct, he cannot be forsworn,’ Aleverak said. Everyone looked at him in surprise, not believing the conservative Damaji would approve.

Jardir would never admit it, but he loved Damaji Aleverak. He did not always agree with the man, but the Damaji’s honour was greater than that of any man he had ever met. Even after he tore Aleverak’s arm off, Jardir had not managed to make the ancient cleric fear him. Aleverak could ever be counted on to argue Jardir’s decisions.

Before they were made. Afterwards, however foolish he might think them, Aleverak followed the commands of the Shar’Dama Ka, and would kill any who opposed them. Jardir looked at his aura and felt something akin to what a son felt for a father. The Damaji had been his greatest opponent on the path to the Skull Throne, and was now perhaps the only man in the world he could trust fully.

Ashan looked about to reply when Aleverak raised his hand to forestall him. He looked at Jardir, and his aura went cold. ‘If the Deliverer sees fit to allow some women to become Sharum, then that is how it shall be. But your decree did not negate the duties of a daughter and wife that are prescribed in the Evejah. For did not Kaji himself command their obedience?’

Inevera’s aura changed to one of amusement at the thought. Everam knew, she was anything but obedient. Jardir snorted and immediately regretted it as he saw how the sound had offended proud Aleverak.

‘Wise words, Damaji,’ he said quickly, and relaxed as the man’s aura was mollified. ‘It is true I can bend my words if I wish.’

‘Then bend them!’ came a shout from across the room.

Jardir looked up as Hasik belatedly shouted, ‘The Holy Mother!’

Kajivah, still in sleep blacks, stormed into the room with his sisters Imisandre and Hoshvah in tow, three auras showing as one in outrage. Next to him, Inevera’s aura went cold with fear, all sense of smugness gone.

Interesting, he thought, eyes flicking to his wife and watching the threads of emotion that connected her to Kajivah. She believes my mother can sway me when even my counsellors cannot.

Looking back to Kajivah, Jardir couldn’t deny his wife was right to worry. His mother had occasionally been vexed with him over the years. He was no stranger to that. But never had he dreamed his divine mother could direct such fury at him.

‘This is your fault,’ Kajivah said, drawing gasps from around the room. ‘This is what comes of refusing your nieces the white.’

Asome nodded. ‘It was enough you told the world they were not worthy of Everam’s grace. Now you decree they should man a spearwall like common warriors?’

Jardir felt his temper flare. He pulled the edge of his white outer robe, revealing the black beneath. ‘I am a common warrior, my son. As is your elder brother.’ He glanced at Jayan’s aura, not surprised that the boy did not care what he decided. His eldest son did not want the headache of women warriors, but neither did he consider the issue worth crossing his father over. He was content to stand by and enjoy Asome’s suffering.

‘There was a time when you begged to be a warrior, as well,’ Jardir told Asome. ‘I mourn the loss of that boy. His honour was boundless.’

‘I have led men in the night,’ Asome said. Jardir regretted the insult when he saw how deeply it cut at his son’s spirit, but now was not the time to coddle.

‘From the rear,’ Jardir said. ‘You are a master tactician and general, my son, but you have not felt the rancid breath of an alagai on your face. If you had, you would have more respect for the spear.’

‘Father speaks truly, brother,’ Jayan said. His aura made his motivations clear, attempting to appear wise while currying his father’s favour and kicking his brother for the pleasure of it.

Jardir cast a displeased glance his way, and saw Jayan’s aura shrink. ‘Everam bless me if I could meld the two of you together like silver and gold to make a fitting heir.’

‘I have always respected the spear, my son,’ Kajivah said. ‘I raised you to do the same, did I not? Everam knows it was hard without Hoshkamin …’

Inevera’s aura was so exasperated she might as well be shouting, though only Jardir could sense it. To the rest she was studying her painted nails as if they were more interesting than the events at hand. She knew better than to force Jardir to choose between them publicly.

‘But I also taught you to respect women,’ Kajivah went on. ‘To protect and cherish them. To keep them safe in the night, and provide for them. Now you will make them fight? Will you ask children to take up arms next?’

‘If I must, to win Sharak Ka,’ Jardir said, and even Kajivah sputtered to a stop at that.

He looked around the room for further thoughts, his eyes lighting on Shanjat. He had known the man since they were children in sharaj together, and had fought and bled beside him in the night countless times. The kai’Sharum’s aura was conflicted, but Jardir could not glean its meaning without more information.

‘And you, Shanjat?’ he asked. ‘What does your heart tell you? Do you wish to see your daughter take the spear?’

Shanjat knelt before the throne, laying his spear next to him. He put his hands on the marble floor and pressed his forehead to it. ‘It is not my place to question your decree, Deliverer. It is also not my place to question Damaji Ashan’s feelings regarding his daughter, nor Dama Asome his Jiwah Ka.’

He lifted his forehead and fell back on his heels. ‘For my part, if you had asked me yesterday, I would have shouted at the thought of women beside me in a spearwall, or trusting one with my back in sharak.’ He looked at Shanvah, and his aura filled with love. ‘But I cannot deny that when I watched those two warriors fight, it was glorious. I can think of none, even Spears of the Deliverer, who could have fought better. When they unveiled and I saw my daughter’s face, it was not shock or anger I felt, it was pride.’

Shanvah returned her father’s look. Jardir could see in the emotions connecting them that she barely knew the man — ignored by him in favour of her brothers and taken from his household early to train in the Dama’ting Palace. Until now, she had felt little for Shanjat, but with his words, a thread of love went out to him in return.

Jardir nodded, considering.

Inevera cleared her throat. ‘Husband, with respect, you have consulted your clerics and counsellors. You have consulted the fathers, you have consulted the mothers. You have consulted the husbands, you have consulted the brothers. You have even consulted the alagai hora. You have consulted everyone and everything, save the women themselves.’

Jardir nodded, beckoning the would-be Sharum’ting forth. ‘My beloved nieces,’ he said as they knelt before him, ‘know that like Shanjat, your honour is boundless in my eyes. But I cannot deny I fear the idea of you out in the night. If you wished to prove something to me, you have proven it. If you wished to honour me, and your bloodline, you have done so. Nothing more is needed for my esteem, and I would not see you pushed into this life by some,’ he glanced at Inevera, ‘or fleeing to it from others.’ His eyes flicked to Asome. ‘And so I ask, is this truly what you want?’

Both women nodded immediately. ‘It is, Uncle.’

‘Think well on this,’ Jardir said. ‘Your lives will change forever if you take the spear. You may look upon the Sharum and see only the excesses they are allowed, but those excesses come at a heavy price. There is glory in the night, but there is also pain and loss. Blood and sacrifice. You will see horrors to haunt you, awake and asleep.’

The women nodded, but he went on. ‘It will be even harder on you than on men. The male Sharum will expect you to be weak, and will not wish to heed your commands. You will be challenged, and have to be twice the fighters your male zahven are until you have their respect. This will not be easy, and I cannot help you there. If men fear to strike you only because they fear me, they will not respect you.’

Ashia looked up at him. ‘I have always known Everam had a different path for me than He did your daughters. Now, having stood in the night, I know. If I shame my husband, then dissolve our union that he may find a worthier Jiwah Ka. I was meant to die on alagai talons.’

Shanvah nodded, taking Ashia’s hand as the morning’s first sunbeam came in through the windows. ‘On alagai talons.’

You will gain warriors in the night, Inevera had said, but lose others on the morrow. But what did it mean? Did it mean he would refuse them? Or that his men would rebel at the thought of fighting alongside women?

He shook his head. They said the same thing when he made the kha’Sharum. Now those men served him with honour. He would not lose warriors by choice. He’d hated the shameful way his mother was treated when he was a child, with no man to speak for her. He had been terrified that he would die, too, and his sisters be claimed by the local dama and sold as jiwah’Sharum.

Jardir cast his gaze over the court. ‘I do not wish to make women fight, but Sharak Ka is nigh, and I will not turn away those who choose to. Kaji may have forbidden women the spear, but the first Deliverer had an army of millions. I do not, but must fight the same war.’ He pointed to the kneeling young women with the Spear of Kaji. ‘I name you kai’Sharum’ting.’

Kajivah wailed.

‘Holy Father,’ Asome said. ‘If my jiwah thinks nothing of her vows to me, then I ask you divorce us now, as she suggests.’

Ashan looked at Asome sharply. The union between Ashan’s daughter and Ahmann’s son strengthened the ties between their families, and it would be a loss of face for them to be severed.

‘No,’ Jardir said. ‘You and my niece declared your vows before Everam, and I will not let you go back on them. She remains your Jiwah Ka, and you will not deny her time with young Kaji. A son needs his mother.’

‘So now my granddaughters go to alagai’sharak each night?’ Kajivah demanded.

‘It need not be so,’ Inevera offered.

Kajivah stared at her in shock. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Many of the dama have personal guards, Sharum only called to alagai’sharak on Wanings,’ Inevera said. ‘If it pleases my honoured husband, I will take them as such.’ Jardir gave her a slight nod, and did not need to see her aura to know the sense of satisfaction had returned to his wife.

‘Even on Wanings, it will be a mistake to let them join the front lines,’ Asome said. ‘They will distract men whose attention needs to be in front of them.’

‘My warriors will learn to adapt,’ Jardir said, though he knew it was not quite so simple.

Asome nodded. ‘Perhaps. But is it a lesson you wish to begin while Alagai Ka stalks the land?’

Jardir pursed his lips. ‘No,’ he said at last. ‘I do not know what is coming with the new moon, and it is not the time to force change.’

Asome smirked at the small victory. ‘But that goes for the dama, as well,’ Jardir said.

Asome’s eyes widened just slightly. ‘Eh?’

‘Everam’s Bounty would fall into chaos without the dama,’ Jardir said. ‘And so I will not risk you on Waning until I know what we are facing each month. You may join your mother and wife in the underpalace come the new moon.’

Jayan stifled his laugh, but not enough for it to escape his brother’s ears.

Be careful, husband, Inevera thought as she watched Ahmann and Asome face off. He is still your son, and he has his pride.

Thankfully, their staring was broken by a commotion at the door. Inevera saw a lone Sharum striding into the hall. He looked thin and haggard, his blacks filthy with mud, and he stank. She could smell him from across the room.

The warrior planted his spear and fell to one knee before the Skull Throne. ‘Shar’Dama Ka, I bring urgent missive from your first daughter, holy Amanvah.’

Ahmann nodded. ‘Ghilan asu Fahkin, is it not? You were sent north to guard Mistress Leesha’s caravan. What has happened? Are my daughter and intended safe?’

Intended. The word cut at Inevera, even now.

‘Both were safe when I left them, Deliverer,’ the warrior said, ‘but they appeared to have had a … conflict.’

‘What kind of conflict?’ Ahmann demanded.

Ghilan shook his head. ‘I do not know, but I believe the holy daughter’s letter will say.’ He held up a small scroll, sealed in wax.

Ahmann nodded and motioned for Shanjat to take the letter. Shanjat was Ghilan’s kai, but still the warrior leapt to his feet, backing away.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ Ahmann said.

‘The holy daughter made me take an oath, Shar’Dama Ka, to put the letter into your hand and no other,’ Ghilan said.

Ahmann nodded, motioning the man forward. Ghilan sprinted up the steps, falling to one knee again when he was in reach. He kept his eyes down as he handed Ahmann the letter. His voice was low, so only Ahmann and Inevera could hear. ‘I will say this, Deliverer. By her own admission, Mistress Leesha poisoned me to prevent my reaching you.’

‘She was bluffing,’ Ahmann said.

The young Sharum shook his head. ‘Your pardon, Deliverer, but she was not. After two days I began to weaken. On the third, I fell from my horse and lay for hours, waiting for death.’

‘How did you survive?’ Inevera asked.

The Sharum bowed to her. ‘Night was falling, Damajah, and I thought it better to die on alagai talons than lying in the dirt, my strength sapped by a woman’s poison.’

Ahmann nodded. ‘Your heart is that of a true Sharum, Ghilan asu Fahkin. What happened then?’

‘I barely had strength to stand,’ Ghilan said, ‘but I hid myself well and bided my time, waiting for a fool alagai to venture too close. After some time, a field demon came by, attempting to track my scent. When it drew up to my hiding place, I struck hard.’

‘And grew stronger,’ Inevera guessed.

Ghilan nodded. ‘The blessings of Everam come to those who kill the creatures of Nie. My horse fled, I hunted for the next two nights before my strength was restored. I apologize for the delay, but I have come as quickly as I was able.’

Ahmann put a hand on the man’s shoulder. ‘I am proud of you, Ghilan asu Fahkin. Know that your honour is boundless. Go now to the great harem and have the jiwah’Sharum bathe you and comfort you into a well-needed sleep.’

The warrior nodded, leaving the room as quickly as he entered. Ahmann opened the letter, read it, and passed it to Inevera.

‘Husband, I am sorry,’ she said as she scanned the contents, ‘but I did warn you.’

‘Once again your dice have proven true,’ Ahmann said. ‘I gained two Sharum’ting in the night, and lost the warriors of the Hollow come morning.’

‘I take no pleasure in it, beloved,’ she said, but it was not entirely true. ‘If it is any consolation, you cannot truly lose what you never had.’

Ahmann shook his head sadly. ‘It is no consolation, wife.’

Inevera moved the stone covering one of the many hidden nooks in her Chamber of Shadows. There was a small box, warded for cold and powered by a demon bone core. A thin rime of frost covered its surface.

Inevera opened the cloth and removed the stiff bit of silk from within. It was precious, but with her dice restored and Mistress Leesha discredited at last, it was time to finally cast the bones for the Northern witch.

The silk was one of Inevera’s many kerchiefs, this one used to daub the blood Leesha had lost during their fight in Inevera’s pillow chamber. She carefully cut out the bits of bloodied silk, tossing them into a small bowl of steaming liquid. When blood had been fully leached, she poured the mixture over her dice and shook.

‘Almighty Everam,’ she prayed, ‘give me knowledge of Leesha, daughter of Erny, of the Paper family of the Hollow tribe.’ With a final shake, she cast the dice before her.

And gaped.

— She is your zahven, and carries a child.-