The Daylight War (67 page)

‘The
chin
will be instrumental in your rise to Shar’Dama Ka,’ she whispered. ‘Embrace him as a brother, but keep him within reach of your spear. One day you must kill him, if you are to be hailed as Deliverer.’

Alarms burned in the city that night, echoed by bells and the screams of women throughout the Undercity. The first wall had been breached.

It was unthinkable. Unheard of.

And yet it was Waning, and the dice had said Ahmann was to meet his
zahven
. Had the greenlander killed him? What if they had not been speaking of the greenlander? What if Alagai Ka had indeed risen this night and Ahmann was facing him this very moment? Was he ready if Sharak Ka began tonight?

It seemed the next morning that it had, and he was. A rock demon had smashed open the great gate, slaughtering warriors by the score and clearing the way for hundreds of other
alagai
. Such a thing had not occurred in the history of the Desert Spear, a calamity great enough to chill the blood of the bravest man.

But Ahmann had beaten them back, resealing the gates and rescuing countless warriors. He and the greenlander had faced the rock demon together on the Maze floor and trapped it for the sun. It was only by sheer luck it had escaped.

But the price had been high. Over a third of Krasia’s warriors dead in one night, and the demon, it happened, was a personal foe of the greenlander. The Andrah had wanted him dead, and Ahmann had put his reputation on the line to save the man in open defiance of his leader, calling him Par’chin, the brave outsider. It was only the broad support of the
Sharum
and key
dama
that had saved the Northerner and kept Ahmann’s head on his shoulders.

‘I will need more of the Par’chin’s blood,’ Inevera said.

Ahmann laughed. ‘Easily done. The Par’chin bleeds often in the Maze, but always at great cost to the
alagai
.’ The next time he brought her a rag so soaked in the greenlander’s blood that it filled an entire vial when squeezed. Inevera had attached a piece of
hora
to the glass under layers of opaque glaze and warded it for cold to preserve its essence.

Inevera herself served the Par’chin tea the night he brought the spear. Ahmann looked at her incredulously, but she wanted to get as close to the item as possible. The greenlander said nothing of its origins as the other
Sharum
gazed at the spear in wonder, but he had privately admitted to Ahmann that he had taken it from the ruins of the holy city of Anoch Sun.

The heavy curtains of the dining chamber were pulled tight, and she wore her warded circlet. It was years since she last served tea, but the precise movements of the ritual had been ingrained in her as
nie’dama’ting
,
letting her focus on the spear. It glowed like the sun itself in Everam’s light – power that could only come from a demon bone core. The hundreds of interconnected wards were beauty beyond belief, and the metal was something she had never seen before.

‘You honour me, Dama’ting,’ the Par’chin said when she bent to fill his cup. His Krasian was flawless, his manners impeccable. His smile was without guile. Either he was a master thief, every expression sheer artistry, or he did not realize what her people did to grave robbers.

‘The honour is ours, Par’chin,’ she said. ‘You are the only Northerner ever to add your spear to ours.’
And
to
dare
look
us
in
the
eye
as
you
attempt
to
steal
from
us
,
she added silently.

She looked back to the spear. She longed to examine it properly, but
dama’ting
were expressly forbidden to touch weapons. A great irony, as this spear had unquestionably been made by one.

That it was a genuine Sunian artefact with a demon bone core was already beyond doubt. Regardless of its origin, the spear would bite the
alagai
like no weapon in millennia. But in the time of the Shar’Dama Ka there had been many such weapons, carried by the sons and lieutenants of Kaji. Was this one of those, or was it truly the Spear of Kaji, made from the sacred metal by the Damajah herself? There was one way to be sure.

It took only the slightest flick of her arm to hook the flowing white silk of her sleeve on the point of the spear. It came up with her as she straightened, then tore the cloth.

Inevera gasped and pretended to stumble, spilling the tea. Around the low table, kneeling
Sharum
averted their gazes that they not witness her embarrassment, but the Par’chin was quick, catching the teapot with one hand and steadying her with the other.

‘Thank you, Par’chin.’ Inevera looked to where the spear had rolled on the floor, seeing what she had hoped. Along its length was a thin, almost imperceptible seam. Without her wardsight, it might have been invisible.

The seam where the Damajah had rolled the thin sheet of sacred metal about the core.

The Par’chin had brought back the Spear of Kaji.

‘Tonight is the night,’ Inevera said, pacing in excitement. She had known the Par’chin would find power, but this was beyond her wildest dreams. ‘Long have I foreseen this. Kill him and take the spear. At dawn, you will declare yourself Shar’Dama Ka, and a month from now you will rule all Krasia.’

She was already plotting his ascent. The Andrah would move to have him stopped or killed, but the
Sharum
were already more loyal to Jardir. If the warriors witnessed Ahmann killing
alagai
on the Maze floor, they would flock to him in droves, starting with those most beholden to him.

‘No,’ Ahmann said.

It took a moment for the word to register. ‘The Krevakh and the Sharach will declare for you immediately, but the Kaji and Majah will take a hard line against … Eh?’ She turned back to face him. ‘The prophecy …’

‘The prophecy be damned,’ Ahmann said. ‘I will not murder my friend, no matter what the demon bones tell you. I will not rob him. I am the Sharum Ka, not a thief in the night.’

Inevera’s flash of anger was more than even she could bend against. She slapped him, the retort echoing off the stone walls. ‘A fool is what you are! Now is the moment of divergence, when what
might
be becomes what
will
. By dawn, one of you will be declared Deliverer. It is up to you to decide if it will be the Sharum Ka of the Desert Spear, or a grave-robbing
chin
from the North.’

‘I tire of your prophecies and divergences,’ Ahmann said, ‘you and all the
dama’ting
! All just guesses meant to manipulate men to your will. But I will not betray my friend for you, no matter what you pretend to see in those warded lumps of
alagai
shit!’

Inevera felt as if everything she had built for over twenty years was crashing down around her. Had she come so far only to fail because her fool husband had not the spine to kill a man who had defiled the grave of Kaji? She shrieked and raised her hand to strike him again, but Ahmann caught her wrist and lifted it high. She struggled for a moment, but he was stronger than her by far.

‘Do not force me to hurt you,’ he warned.

Now he dared threaten her? The words brought Inevera back to herself. A lifetime of training with Enkido had taught her strength could be taken with a touch. She twisted, driving stiffened fingers to break the line of energy in his shoulder. The arm holding her went limp and she twisted out of his grasp, slipping back a step to straighten her robes as she breathed back to centre.

‘You keep thinking the
dama’ting
defenceless, my husband, though you of all people should know better.’ She took his numb hand in hers, twisting the arm out straight as she pressed her other thumb into the pressure point in his shoulder, restoring the line of energy.

‘You are no thief if you are only reclaiming what is already yours by right.’

‘Mine?’ Ahmann asked.

‘Who is the thief?’ Inevera asked. ‘The
chin
who robs the grave of Kaji, or you, his blood kin, who takes back what was stolen?’

‘We do not know it is the Spear of Kaji he holds,’ Ahmann said.

Inevera crossed her arms. ‘You know. You knew the moment you laid eyes on it, just as you’ve known all along that this day would come. I never hid this fate from you.’

Ahmann said nothing, and Inevera knew she was reaching him. She touched his arm. ‘If you prefer, I can put a potion in his tea. His passing will be quick.’

‘No!’ Ahmann shouted, pulling away. ‘Always the path of least honour with you! The Par’chin is no
khaffit
,
to be put down like a dog! He deserves a warrior’s death.’

I
have
him
,
Inevera thought. ‘Then give him one. Now, before
alagai’sharak
begins and the power of the spear is known.’

But Ahmann shook his head, and she knew he would not be swayed. ‘If it is to be done, I will do it in the Maze.’

The next morning, Ahmann returned to the Palace of the Sharum Ka triumphant, the Spear of Kaji held high for all to see.
Sharum
cheered and
dama
looked on – some in religious fervour, others in terror. Their world was about to change forever, and any with half a mind knew it.

But though he looked every inch the proud, fearless leader, his eyes were haunted. He was surrounded by a crowd of lieutenants and sycophants, but Inevera knew it was imperative she speak to him alone immediately. She gestured, sending her little sisters. No man would impede a
dama’ting
,
and the eleven
Jiwah
Sen
quickly formed an impenetrable ring around Ahmann, cutting him off from the others and guiding him to a private chamber where they might speak freely.

‘What happened?’ she demanded. ‘Is the Par’chin—’

‘Gone,’ Ahmann cut her off. ‘I put the spear between his eyes and left his body out on the dunes, far from the city walls.’

‘Thank Everam,’ Inevera exhaled, unclenching muscles she hadn’t even realized were held tight. Even the dice had not been able to say with certainty that he would murder his friend.