The Daylight War (33 page)

‘Broth …’ Kasaad looked up. ‘Everam’s beard, Inevera?!’

Recognition lit his face, and he moved with surprising speed, grabbing his spear off the floor and kicking his daughter aside. Caught off guard, Inevera hit the floor hard, looking up just in time to see Kasaad bury the point in Soli’s chest. ‘Better dead than a
push’ting
cripple spared by his sister’s soft heart!’

Cashiv had him in an instant, standing behind Kasaad with one iron arm around his throat and a long curved knife at his belly. Inevera rushed to Soli, but her father’s thrust had been true, and her brother was dead.

‘You do not deserve to die by
alagai
talon or spear,’ Cashiv growled in Kasaad’s ear. ‘I will gut you like a
khaffit
guts a pig, and watch as the life bleeds out of you. You deserve a thousand deaths, and in Nie’s abyss you will have them.’

Kasaad laughed. ‘I have done Everam’s will, and will drink from his rivers of wine in Heaven. The Evejah tells us,
Suffer
not
the
push’ting
nor
the
cripple
!’

Qeva approached. ‘It also says,
Drink
not
of
fermented
grain
… and
It
is
death
to
strike
one
of
Everam’s Betrothed
.’

It was true. The punishment for striking a
nie’dama’ting
was the same as for a
dama’ting
– the striker was made
khaffit
,
then executed. Only the offended woman could spare him.

Qeva took her own curved knife and began cutting the blacks from Kasaad. He screamed and thrashed, but she struck swift, precise blows to shatter his lines of power, and his limbs fell weak.

‘You are
khaffit
now, Kasaad of no name worth mentioning. You will forever sit outside Heaven’s gates, and should Everam in His wisdom one day take pity on your soul and send it back to Ala, pray you are less stupid in the next life.’ She turned to Inevera, handing her the knife. Cashiv pulled hard, arching Kasaad’s back and presenting her an easy target.

Kasaad wailed and begged, but there was no sympathy in the eyes around him. Finally he calmed and looked at Inevera. ‘If you will waste a true warrior for the sake of a one-armed
push’ting
, then so be it. Make it quick, daughter.’

Inevera met his eyes, rage boiling in her veins. The silver knife handle was hard and warm in her hand, moist with her sweat.

‘No, I will not kill my own father,’ she said at last. ‘And you do not deserve for it to be quick.’

She looked at Qeva. ‘The Evejah says I may spare him, if I wish.’

‘No!’ Cashiv shouted. ‘Nie take you, girl, you will give your brother justice! If your flesh is too pure to sully, only say the word and I will be your striking hand.’

‘You understand what sparing him means?’ Qeva asked Inevera, ignoring Cashiv completely. ‘Everam must be paid in blood for the offence given him.’

‘He will be paid,’ Inevera said.

Qeva nodded and took a tourniquet, wrapping it firmly around the leg Kasaad had kicked Inevera with. She looked to Cashiv. ‘Hold him tightly.’ The warrior nodded, tightening his iron grip.

Inevera didn’t hesitate, taking the sharp knife to her father’s knee like a butcher working a joint. Hot blood poured over her as his lower leg was severed with a pop right where the bones met. Kasaad’s screams carried all through the pavilion, but it was a place used to such sounds, and it seemed not amiss.

Inevera grabbed her father by the beard, cutting off his screams as she yanked his agonized face to look at her. ‘You will go to Manvah and serve her. Serve her like she is the
Damaji’ting
. Do this for the remainder of your days, and I
may
take pity and let you die in black.

‘But if you ever strike my mother again, or fail to obey her slightest whim, I will hear of it and take the other leg, and your arms as well. You will live a long life with no limbs to get you into trouble, and when you die as
khaffit
, you will be left for dogs to gnaw upon and shit onto the streets.’

Cashiv dropped Kasaad to the floor, bringing a fresh scream of anguish. He pointed a finger in Inevera’s face. ‘A limb? The limb of a worthless, drunken fool? That is how you value Soli?’

Inevera moved quickly, grabbing his finger and breaking it as easily as she broke the line of energy in his leg with a single raised knuckle. The limb collapsed and she caught him in a throw that put him heavily on his back. ‘You presume to judge my love of my brother? You think my ties of blood weaker than yours of semen?’

Cashiv looked at her, his eyes cold. ‘My soul is ready for the lonely path, Inevera vah Kasaad. I have killed many
alagai
, fathered a son, and I have not struck you. It is your right to kill me if you wish it, but you cannot deny me Heaven as you did your father. I will sit in Everam’s great hall by Soli’s side, and comfort him under the camel’s piss his sister pours on his memory with every breath that pig-eater takes.’

He sneered. ‘Strike. Do it!’ A madness came into his eyes, and Inevera realized he wanted her to. He was begging for it.

Inevera shook her head. ‘Begone from here. I will not kill you for loving my brother, even if it has made you a fool.’

After she returned to the palace, Inevera went quickly to the Vault. Few girls were there at that hour, and those hurrying to get ready for classes. Inevera was due to teach one herself before entering the Chamber of Shadows later that afternoon.

She saw
nie’dama’ting
Shaselle weaving her bido after a bath and snapped her fingers, getting the girl’s attention. Though older, Shaselle jumped at the sound. ‘I have matters to attend,’ Inevera said. ‘Take over teaching basic herbs to the second-years.’

‘Of course, nie’Damaji’ting.’ Shaselle bowed and scurried away to attend the matter.

Nie’Damaji’ting.
Kenevah’s heir apparent. It was no formal title – likely any girl caught using it would be punished severely.

Inevera had never ordered another girl to teach for her, nor did she have any right to, but at the moment she didn’t care. All that mattered was she was alone at last. She threw herself onto her tiny cot and cried. She sought to capture the water in tear bottles she might offer to Everam with prayers for her brother’s soul, but her hands shook with her sobs, and the task was impossible. She buried her face in her pillow, letting the rough cloth soak up the tears.

Soli was gone. She would never again see his easy smile or handsome face, never again be comforted by his words, or feel the safety of his presence. In an instant, all those futures had vanished. She wondered if the
dama’ting
had seen it in the dice at the end of his
Hannu
Pash
.

And Kasaad? Had she done the world any favours by sparing him, or would he be an even greater drain to the Desert Spear? Was Cashiv right? Had she failed to avenge her brother as he deserved?

Time passed, and the afternoon bell was rung. The Chamber of Shadows beckoned, but still Inevera did not rise. Since her admission, she had never missed a session, but there was no law forcing her attendance. If she wished to take a lifetime to carve her dice, it was within her rights.

At last, the Vault door opened and Qeva entered, standing by the door. ‘Enough, girl, you’ve had your tears. There isn’t water enough to spare in the Desert Spear for you to gush all day. Find your centre. Kenevah has summoned you.’

Inevera drew a deep breath, then another, subtly wiping her eyes on the cuff of her sleeve. When she rose, she had regained her composure, though her insides still felt torn to shreds.

Kenevah was waiting in her office when Inevera arrived. The teakettle was steaming, and at a signal Inevera poured for them both and took a seat across from the
Damaji’ting
.

‘You never told me your brother was one of Baden’s men,’ the old woman noted.

Inevera nodded numbly. ‘I feared you would keep me from him each year if you knew.’ The confession was tantamount to admitting lying to the
Damaji’ting
, but Inevera found she lacked the strength to care.

Kenevah grunted. ‘Likely I would have. And perhaps he would be alive today if you had.’ Inevera looked up at her, and she shrugged. ‘Or perhaps not. The dice can let us glean much of the future, but on the past they are silent.’

‘
The
past
is
gone
,’ Inevera said, quoting the Damajah, ‘
it
is
pointless
to
chase
it.
’

‘Then why have you spent the day weeping?’ Kenevah asked.

‘My pain is a mighty wind, Damaji’ting,’ Inevera said. ‘Even the palm must bow before the wind, straightening only when it passes.’

Kenevah lifted her veil just enough to blow steam from the surface of her tea. ‘
Sharum
do not bend.’

Inevera looked up at that. ‘Eh?’

‘They do not bend, they do not weep,’ Kenevah said. ‘These are luxuries
Sharum
cannot afford in the Maze, when life and death are a hair’s breadth apart. Where we bend before the wind,
Sharum
embrace their pain and ignore it. To the untrained, the effect seems much the same, but it is not. And as a great wind can break even the most supple tree, there are pains too great for
Sharum
to hold. When this happens, they hurl themselves into its cause in hopes they might die an honourable death with no submission on their lips.’

‘Cashiv wanted such a death,’ Inevera said. ‘He and my brother were lovers.’

Kenevah sipped her tea. ‘Other
Sharum
lock their loved ones away in the Undercity at night when they go into the Maze.
Push’ting
stand side by side with them. They fight more wisely because of this, but also feel the loss more keenly when one of them is taken.’ She looked at Inevera. ‘But you denied him this death. And your father, too, though the Evejah demanded it.’

‘The Evejah gave me a choice,’ Inevera said, ‘and why should Cashiv be given a release from suffering over Soli’s death when I am not?’

Kenevah nodded. ‘We have become too free with death in Krasia. A frequent but unwelcome visitor has become like an old friend, greeted with open arms. Three centuries ago there were millions of us, filling this great city and all the lands beyond. We fought among ourselves even then, but a few lives lost over stolen wells was nothing when we were as numerous as grains of sand in the desert. Now we are scarce as raindrops, and every life matters.’

‘The
alagai
—’ Inevera began.

Kenevah whisked a hand dismissively. ‘The
alagai
may be taking most of the lives, but it is our own foolishness that keeps feeding them.’

‘
Alagai’sharak
,’ Inevera said.

‘Millennia of tribal feuding are not forgotten at sunset, no matter what the Andrah and Sharum Ka say,’ Kenevah said. ‘They are corrupt, putting the Kaji first in all things and doing what they can to cull their rivals. The Sharum Ka is old and remains in his palace at night, leaving no true leadership in the
Maze, but still we funnel our strongest men into that meat
grinder night after night, losing warriors faster than they are born. The
dama’ting
do all we can to keep every fertile womb in Krasia full with child, but there are simply not enough wombs to keep pace with men determined to rush to extinction.’

‘But what can be done?’ Inevera asked.

Kenevah sighed. ‘I do not know if there is anything to be done. Our power has its limits. It may be that you will one day inherit my veil, only to preside over the end of our people.’

Inevera shook her head. ‘I do not accept that. Everam is testing us. He will not let our people fall.’

‘He has been letting it happen for three centuries,’ Kenevah said. ‘Everam favours the strong, but also the cunning. Perhaps He has lost patience suffering fools.’