‘Like I once did around you, when we were boys in sharaj,’ Abban said. ‘That he would stand in an instant between me and any harm, as he did when you called us before the Spear Throne so many years ago. He made me feel safe.’
Jardir nodded. The way they had known him was not so different after all. ‘And now?’
Abban’s aura became unreadable and he sighed, taking a small clay bottle from his vest and pulling the stopper.
‘Do not …’ Jardir began.
Abban cut him off with a roll of his eyes. ‘The blood of thousands pools at your feet, Ahmann. Are you truly about to lecture me about drinking couzi like I’m a drunken Sharum in the Maze?’
Jardir frowned, but he did not protest further as Abban took a thoughtful pull, his eyes distant. The khaffit looked back at him, holding the bottle out. ‘Drink with me, Ahmann. Just this once. These are things best discussed with lips of cinnamon.’
Jardir shook his head. ‘Kaji forbids—’
Abban threw back his head and laughed. ‘He forbade it because his men were slaughtered in Rusk by a force they outnumbered five to one after spending the night before celebrating a battle that had not yet been won! It was a decree meant for uneducated sheep with weapons, not two men sharing a cup during the day at the centre of their stronghold.’
Jardir looked at Abban sadly. He could see in the man’s aura that he not only did not understand, he thought Jardir the fool in this exchange. ‘This, my friend, is why you are khaffit.’
‘Why?’ Abban asked. ‘Because I do not treat every single utterance of Kaji as the direct word of Everam? You are Shar’Dama Ka now, Ahmann, and I’ve known you a long time. You are a brilliant man, but you have said and done many a stupid and naïve thing over the years.’
Such words might have got him killed in open court, but Ahmann could see his friend spoke from his heart, and could not fault him for that. ‘I make no claims to divine infallibility, Abban, mine or Kaji’s. You are khaffit because you are unable to see that the reasons for Kaji’s decree do not matter. What matters is your obedience and submission. Your sacrifice.’
He pointed to the cup. ‘Everam will not damn me to Nie’s abyss if I drink that, Abban, nor Kaji’s spirit grow restless. But remembering the lesson of the defeat at Rusk is well worth the sacrifice of couzi, just as remembering the betrayal of Kaji’s half brother is worth the taste of pig, no matter how succulent you claim it to be.’
Abban looked at him a moment, shrugged, and drank again. ‘The Par’chin is the man I knew, and he is not. I never felt for a moment he would harm me, or let harm come to me, but he was nonetheless … unsettling.’
‘The rumours are true?’ Jardir asked. ‘He has warded his flesh with ink?’
Abban nodded. ‘Much as you have with scars.’
Jardir shook his head. ‘My wards are made of my own flesh. I have not profaned the temple of my body with—’
‘Please,’ Abban said, holding up a hand to cut him off while rubbing his other hand against his temple. ‘My head hurts enough already.
‘The Par’chin did not spare his face, as you did,’ Abban continued, ‘but he was never handsome as you. I suppose even the Damajah has a limit to how much she will … sacrifice.’
Jardir felt his jaw tighten. ‘I have been most tolerant of you today, Abban, but there is a limit.’
Abban’s aura went cold, and he bowed as much as he could without rising. ‘I apologize, my friend. I meant no dishonour to you or your Jiwah Ka.’
Jardir nodded, whisking a hand to dismiss the matter. ‘You once told me that if one of us were the Deliverer, it was the Par’chin. Do you still think it so?’
‘I do not know that there is such a thing as a Deliverer at all.’ Abban drank again. ‘But I have looked into the eyes of thousands of hagglers, and in all my years met only two men I judged to be true. One of them was the Par’chin, and the other, Ahmann, was you.
‘Ten years ago, our people were splintered. Weak. Unable to control even our own city. Great warriors, perhaps, but fools, also. Spending and spending, but never turning a profit. Our numbers were dwindling, women had no rights to speak of, and khaffit were beneath contempt.’ He held up his couzi cup. ‘Drinking couzi could get you executed.
‘You might have stolen the throne, but you brought wisdom to it. United our people and made them strong again. Fed the hungry. Gave women and khaffit paths to glory. Our people owe you a great debt. Would the Par’chin have done as well? Who can say?’
Jardir frowned. ‘So what would honourless Abban do? Is there profit in my fighting the Par’chin?’
‘What does it matter?’ Abban asked. ‘You and I both know you are going to accept his challenge.’
Jardir nodded. ‘It is inevera. But I would hear your counsel all the same.’
Abban sighed. ‘I wish the Par’chin had never made this challenge. I wish he had taken my advice and run to the ends of Ala and beyond. But I saw in his eyes he means to fight you, Domin Sharum or no. If that is so, you are better off with a private battle over one held before all with untold thousands of bystanders ready to join the slaughter.’
‘This is why we have Domin Sharum,’ Jardir said. ‘For when wishes come to naught. I will go, and I will fight the Par’chin with all I have, and he me. One of us will walk away, and upon his shoulders rest the fate of humanity. Let Everam decide who it shall be.’
Jardir looked at Inevera as she lay waiting for him in their bedroom. They had not spent a night apart since they had reconciled, weeks ago. His other wives clamoured for his attention, but Inevera’s power over them was absolute, and none dared come to his pillow chamber uninvited.
Jardir could see the love and passion radiating from his wife, and steeled himself for what was to come. He could only hope she would forgive him.
‘The Par’chin is alive,’ he said, blurting the words and letting them hang in the air much as the khaffit had done.
Inevera straightened in an instant, her aura losing its warmth and invitation as she stared at him. ‘Impossible. You told me you put your spear between his eyes and left his body on the dunes.’
Jardir nodded. ‘That was all true, but it was the butt of the spear. He was alive when we dumped him on the dunes.’
‘He was what?!’ Inevera shouted so loudly Jardir wondered if even her sound-blocking hora magic could keep it from echoing throughout the palace. The anger in her aura was terrifying to behold, like looking over the edge of Nie’s abyss.
‘I told you I would not murder my friend,’ Jardir said. ‘I took the spear as you said, but had mercy on the Par’chin, leaving him alive to face the coming night on his feet that he might die a warrior’s death on alagai talons.’
‘Mercy?’ Inevera was incredulous. ‘The dice made clear you will not take your place until he is dead. How many thousands of lives will we pay for that “mercy”?’
‘Take my place?’ Jardir asked. The words tickled something in his memory, and he probed deeper with his crownsight. ‘Of course. The Par’chin.’
‘Eh?’ Inevera asked.
‘You lied to me when you said I was the only man with the potential to be the Deliverer. I had thought you hiding an heir, but it was the Par’chin, wasn’t it? Did the dice command I kill him at all, or was that simply you?’
She did not need to open her mouth for him to see it was so.
‘No matter,’ he said. ‘He is alive, and has challenged me to Domin Sharum. I have already accepted.’
‘Have you gone mad?’ Inevera demanded. ‘You accepted without even letting me cast the dice?’
‘To the abyss with your dice!’ Jardir snapped. ‘It is inevera. Either I am the Deliverer, or I am not. The alagai hora are no different from Abban’s tallies, tools for educated guessing.’
Inevera hissed, and he could see he had gone too far. She might lie to him about their meanings, but in her heart the dice were the voice of Everam.
‘And perhaps they were right,’ he conceded. ‘Pe
rhaps the Par’chin is the Shar’Dama Ka. The Sharum in the Maze followed him without question when he first brandished the Spear of Kaji. A spear he bled and risked his life for. A spear he used to kill the most powerful demon Krasia had ever known, one that had brought short the lives of thousands of dal’Sharum. It was he that found the holy city of Kaji, not me.’
‘You are Kaji’s heir,’ Inevera said.
Jardir shrugged. ‘Kaji took Northern wives when he conquered the green lands. I have seen his blood run true in places like Deliverer’s Hollow. After three thousand years, the son of Jeph could be as much Kaji’s heir as I. Perhaps my part in Everam’s great plan is simply to bring the unified armies of Krasia to him, and then die.’
Inevera leapt from the bed, wrapping him in her arms. ‘No. I refuse to believe it.’ And she did. He could see her will preventing the very idea from taking hold. ‘It is you,’ she said. ‘It must be you.’
Jardir put his arms around her, nodding. ‘I think so, too. But I need to be sure. Can you understand that, my Jiwah Ka? It must be true, or the blood at my feet is for nothing.’
32
Domin Sharum
333 AR Autumn
‘Tell me again how you know this isn’t a trap?’ Thamos asked as they left the contingent of Cutters and Wooden Soldiers behind to ride up the steep rock face. Behind the count rode Leesha and Wonda, followed by Rojer and Amanvah, with Gared bringing up the rear. Renna rode at Arlen’s right, the count, his left.
‘Your own scouts have confirmed there are only eight people up there, one a woman and one an old man,’ Arlen said.
‘There could be others in hiding,’ Thamos said. ‘The scouts also say they have a full company of men camped a mile to the south.’
Arlen pointed to the cliff face they approached. There was only one narrow path up the sheer slope, the rock bare and cold. ‘Where do you think these others might be hidden, Highness? Will they drop on us from the clouds?’
Thamos frowned, and Arlen realized he was costing the man too much face before Leesha, Gared, and the others. If this continued, he would become an increasing hindrance, if only to show his own strength.
‘I know Ahmann Jardir, Highness,’ Arlen said. ‘He would sooner throw himself off that cliff than violate Domin Sharum.’
‘This is the same man stabbed you in the back, ay?’ Renna asked.
‘Figuratively,’ Arlen said, sparing her an annoyed glance. She grinned in the face of it, and he wanted to laugh. ‘In truth, he had the stones to look me in the eye.’
‘Makes it so much better,’ Renna muttered.
Arlen could see Thamos remained unconvinced. He sighed, lowering his voice. ‘You don’t need to risk yourself, Highness. There is still time for you to turn back and send Arther or Inquisitor Hayes in your stead.’
He of course wanted no such thing, but the challenge to the count’s courage worked where other tactics failed. Thamos straightened in his saddle, his aura becoming steady and confident once more.
‘We should all turn back,’ Leesha said. ‘This whole ritual is barbaric. A bunch of meaningless rules to give the illusion of civility to murder.’
‘Ent murder when the other man sees it coming and means to kill you, too,’ Arlen said. ‘And the rules have meaning. Seven witnesses, so all those affected by the outcome can see the truth of it. A remote location difficult to stage an ambush. A fight right before dusk, when all men set aside their differences and become brothers, to force peace on the witnesses when it is done.’
‘None of which makes it civilized,’ Leesha said.
‘Would you rather thousands die on the field?’ Arlen asked. ‘So long as men eat and shit and grow old and die …’
‘… we will never truly be civilized,’ Leesha finished, surprising him. ‘Don’t quote philosophers at me when you’re about to force your friends and family to watch you two try and kill each other.’
‘You don’t have to come, either,’ Arlen said. ‘Send Darsy Cutter if you ent got the stomach for it.’
‘Oh, shut it,’ Leesha snapped.
Jardir watched as the greenlanders ascended the slope. As Inevera foretold, they brought Leesha Paper, his daughter, and his new son-in-law with them, as well as the greenland prince who had laid claim to the Hollow Tribe. This was well. It would make things easier when the Par’chin was cast down, and despite Amanvah’s letter, he could not deny a flash of pleasure at the sight of Leesha after six weeks apart.
He looked at the man leading the greenlanders, and despite the changes to his appearance, Jardir knew his ajin’pal instantly. The way he sat a horse, his carriage and careful gaze. He, too, had always felt safe at the greenlander’s side, always knew where he stood in the man’s esteem.
Oh, my brother, Jardir thought sadly. Truly Everam is testing me, if I must kill you twice.
The greenlanders dismounted and tethered their horses on the opposite side of the cliff from the Krasian mounts. Jardir and his seven stood to meet them, their backs to the yawning drop.
‘It has been too long, Par’chin,’ he said when the greenlanders came forward. He could not see into the Par’chin’s heart in sunlight, but Jardir could sense the power in his ajin’pal, contained by the will of a sharusahk master. The son of Jeph carried a fine warded spear, but it was plain wood and steel, with none of the innate power of the Spear of Kaji. ‘You look well.’
‘No thanks to you,’ the Par’chin said, ‘and a thousand years is too soon to have to look at your face again.’ He spat at Jardir’s feet, and there was tension in Jardir’s entourage at the insult.
He threw an arm out to stay them, and met the eyes of Jayan, the most volatile of the group. ‘You are here as witnesses, not participants.’
He turned back to the Par’chin, pointedly ignoring the spittle on his boot. ‘You remember my Jiwah Ka, of course, and Abban, Damaji Ashan, and Shanjat. These,’ he gestured at the others, ‘are Damaji Aleverak of the Majah, and my sons Jayan and Asome.’
The Par’chin nodded. He turned to the woman to his right, whose sparse clothing revealed enough flesh to make even Inevera look demure. She was covered in painted wards as he was. Her eyes were wild, with none of the Par’chin’s control. She looked at him with open hatred. ‘My wife, Renna Bales, and His Highness Count Thamos of Hollow County, brother to Duke Rhinebeck of Fort Angiers. I believe you know the others.’
Jardir nodded. ‘Before we begin, I would speak with my intended privately, to assure myself of her good treatment.’
‘And I, my daughter,’ Inevera put in. Jardir cast an irritated eye at her, but she ignored him.
‘Intended?’ Thamos asked. The look he gave Leesha made Jardir’s eyes narrow.
Leesha came forward without waiting for anyone’s permission, and Amanvah followed a moment later. Jardir took Leesha aside. When they were far enough that their voices would not be overheard, he moved to embrace her. ‘Intended, how I have missed your touch …’
Leesha pulled back, stepping to the side and evading his arms. ‘What is this?’ he demanded. ‘We shared more than a simple embrace the last time we were alone.’
Leesha nodded. ‘But we are not alone, and this is not the time, Ahmann. I won’t have you marking me like a dog. I have already refused your proposal.’
Jardir smiled. ‘Thus far.’
‘No, not thus far,’ Leesha snapped. ‘I lay with you in the pillows, yes, but I am not your property, and I will never wed you. Not if you divorce all your wives and return to the Desert Spear, nor if you kill all the dukes of the Free Cities and name yourself king of Thesa. Never.’
‘And this is why you betrayed me?’ Jardir asked. ‘The warrior you poisoned made it to me alive with Amanvah’s letter. I know what you were doing on the road.’
Leesha’s anger seemed to lessen at that. He had expected her to become defensive, but instead she let out a relieved breath. ‘Oh, thank the Creator,’ she whispered.
‘This pleases you?’ he asked, confused.
/> ‘I don’t have a dama’ting’s stomach for poisons,’ Leesha said. ‘And I betray no one by warning my people about the truth of your intentions.
‘Speaking of poisons and betrayal,’ she went on, ‘did your daughter’s letter mention how she herself tried to poison me with blackleaf while we were in the Palace of Mirrors? Or that your wife had me kidnapped and beaten the night after we first made love?’
Jardir could feel his face grow slack at the words. He reached out, taking her hand that he might sense her aura even in the light. He hoped to find proof of the lie, but he sensed beyond doubt that she spoke truth. Anger filled him, but then he sensed something else as well, and his rage was forgotten.
‘You carry a child!’
Leesha’s eyes widened. ‘What? I most certainly do not.’ Jardir did not need to probe these words. The lie was as clear in her eyes as it was in her aura. She was as aware as he of the new life that pulsed in harmony with her own.
Jardir grabbed her arm, squeezing so tightly she flinched in pain as he dragged her into the shadow of the cliff wall. ‘Do not lie to me. Is it that pathetic greenland …’ He looked closer in the shade, examining the life within her. ‘No, the child is mine. It is mine and you sully it by cavorting with this chin princeling. Did you mean to hide this from me? Do you think I will let this man, or any man, keep me from claiming what is mine? I will feed his balls to the dogs. I will—’
‘You will do nothing.’ Leesha yanked her arm away, holding the other protectively over her belly. ‘This child isn’t yours, Ahmann! I am not yours! We are human beings and do not belong to anyone. This is where you fail time and again, and why my people will never bow willingly to you. You cannot own people.’
‘You parse words like a khaffit to deny what you know is just,’ Jardir said. ‘Would you deny the child the chance to know its father?’
Leesha laughed, the sound harsh and biting. Her aura coloured with disdain, and it stung to see it directed at him. ‘You have over seventy children, Ahmann, and you barter them like casks of ale. How many of them do you truly know?’
The Daylight War Page 77