The Skull Throne (25 page)

She grunted, pretending to be mollified. “Enough time wasted. Tell me everything you recall about the attack.”

“Seventeen dead in the blast, a
dama
among them,” Abban said. “Another forty-three wounded, along with severe structural damage to the temple. Many of the heroes’ bones adorning its walls were destroyed.”

“How is that even possible?” Inevera asked. “The blast was in broad daylight—it could not have been
hora
magic.”

“I believe the
chin
used thundersticks to effect the blast,” Abban said.

“Thundersticks?” Inevera asked.

“
Chin
flamework,” Abban said. “Ours is mostly liquids and oil, but the chin have powders. Mostly just light and noise for celebration, but rolled with paper into sticks, they are useful in mining and construction. I have seen Leesha Paper use them to great effect against the
alagai.
”

Inevera scowled, forgetting herself for a moment. She quickly put her mask back in place, but no doubt the
khaffit
had said the name intentionally, and watched for her reaction.

“You risk more using that name than you did approaching my pillow chamber unannounced,” she said. “Do not think me such a fool as to miss your hand in my husband’s indiscretions with the Northern whore.”

Abban shrugged, not bothering to deny it. “Leesha Paper is the least of the Damajah’s worries now.”

If only,
Inevera thought. “I want detailed notes on the making of these flamework weapons.”

Abban blew out a breath. “That will be a problem, Damajah. I have a few of the sticks themselves, confiscated from the mining operations we took over when the Deliverer claimed Everam’s Bounty, but their making remains a mystery. The
chin
custom is for their Herb Gatherers to pass the information orally to their apprentices rather than write it down.”

“And none of your bribes and spies have been able to turn one of them into giving up the formula?” Inevera asked. “I’m disappointed.”

Abban shrugged. “It is a rare skill, even amongst the Gatherers, and all deny the knowledge. They are not such fools as to think we won’t turn it against them.”

“I will give you writs of arrest,” Inevera said. “If the women will not respond to bribes, then question them harder. And bring me samples of these thundersticks. This is too powerful a weapon for the
chin
to hold over us.”

Abban nodded. “Treat them with utmost care, Damajah. Two of my men were killed in a blast when they tried to move a batch that had lain too long in storage.”

“Do we have any suspects in the crime?” Inevera asked.

Abban shook his head. “The flamework has a short fuse, but none were seen running from the building prior to the blast. There were
chin
amongst the dead. One of them must have lit the fuse and martyred himself.”

“The
chin
have steel in them, after all,” Inevera said. “A pity they waste it in Daylight War and not
alagai’sharak.
”

“The
Damaji
will not stand for this,” Abban said. “Everam’s Bounty will run with blood.”

Inevera nodded. “More will flock to Jayan. There will be no stopping his
Sharum
from taking control of the city.”

“For its own protection,” Abban said, sarcasm more in his aura than his words.

“Just so,” Inevera agreed.

“All the more reason to send him away,” Abban said.

Inevera looked at him curiously. She would like nothing more, but what could … ? There. She saw it in his aura. Clever Abban had a plan. Or at least, he thought he did.

“Out with it,
khaffit,
” she snapped.

Abban smiled. “Lakton.”

This was his plan? Perhaps Inevera gave the
khaffit
too much credit. “You cannot possibly think Lakton is still a priority, with Ahmann gone and a rebellion just outside the palace walls.”

“All the more reason,” Abban said. “The Laktonians make their harvest tithe to the duke in barely more than a fortnight. We need that harvest, Damajah. I cannot stress that enough. If the
alagai
continue to strike our food supply, it may be the only thing that keeps our armies intact through the winter. The preparations have all been made.”

“And how am I supposed to convince the Sharum Ka and
Damaji
to send their warriors on a week’s hard march with Sharik Hora still aflame?” Inevera asked.

“Pfagh.” Abban pointed to Inevera’s
hora
pouch. “Wave the dice around and tell them the dockmasters are behind the attacks. Demand that your eldest son go forth as Everam’s hammer to crush them and take the city.”

Inevera raised an eyebrow. “You suggest I mislead the council of
Damaji
about what I see in the sacred dice?”

Abban smiled. “Damajah, please. Do not insult us both.”

Inevera had to laugh at that. She hated to admit it, but she was beginning to like the
khaffit.
The idea had merit.

She reached into her pouch for the dice with her left hand, drawing her curved dagger with her right. “Hold out your arm.”

The
khaffit
paled visibly, but he did not dare refuse. When the
hora
were wet with his blood, he watched in horrified fascination as she shook them and they began to glow.

“Everam, Creator of Heaven and Ala, Giver of Light and Life, your children need guidance. Should we follow the
khaffit’s
plan and attack the city on the lake?”

The dice flared as she threw, spinning out of their natural trajectory as the magic took them. It was a familiar sight to Inevera, but Abban gaped as she scanned the symbols for an answer.

—Unless given something to fight, the
Sharum
will tear themselves apart.—

A surprisingly clear answer, for the dice had been opaque of late, but vexing all the same. They stopped short of endorsing the move.

She shook again. “Everam, Creator of Heaven and Ala, Giver of Light and Life, your children need guidance. Will an attack on Lakton be successful?”

—The city on the lake will not fall easily, or without wisdom.—

Inevera stared at the symbols. Wisdom was not easily found in the armies of the Deliverer.

“What do they tell you?” Abban asked.

Inevera ignored him, gathering the dice. “This still leaves us with a rebellion on our hands, and a risk that Jayan will return with increased glory and an even stronger claim to the throne.”

Relief flooded Abban’s aura. He believed her convinced. “You will have an easier time rooting out the rebels with Jayan far away. A chance to secure your own power.” He grinned. “Perhaps we will be lucky, and he will catch a stray arrow.”

Inevera slapped him, her nails drawing blood as the fat
khaffit
was knocked from the pillows. He held his face in pain, eyes wide with fear.

Inevera pointed at him, calling a harmless but dramatic flare of wardlight from one of her rings. “However he may vex me, have a care when you speak of my oldest son,
khaffit.
”

Abban nodded, rolling to his knees with a wince and putting his forehead on the floor. “I apologize, Damajah. I meant no offense.”

“If I regret this decision even a little,
khaffit,
you will regret it ten thousandfold. Now be gone from here. The council will meet soon, and I will not have you seen skulking from my chambers.”

The
khaffit
gathered his crutch and limped from the room as quickly as his lame leg would allow.

When the door closed behind him, she bent to the dice again. She had not cast for her husband’s fate in over a day, but it would have to wait longer still. With this latest attack and Abban’s mad plan, it was easy to forget it was the first day of Waning. If it was anything like the last, her people would be lucky to survive without Ahmann.

“Everam, Creator of Heaven and Ala, Giver of Light and Life, your children need guidance. What will Waning bring to Everam’s Bounty this night, and how can we prepare?”

She shook and threw, reading the meanings behind the symbols as easily as words on a page.

—Alagai Ka and his princelings will not come to Everam’s Bounty this Waning.—

Curious.
Her eyes scanned the rest of the symbols and she started. For the first time in weeks, the one day she had not cast for Ahmann’s fate, the dice gave her a glimpse.

And her world collapsed.

—They go to defile the corpse of Shar’Dama Ka.—

Abban watched the Andrah’s closed circle of advisors—Asome, Asukaji, Aleverak, and Jayan—from the safety of his small writing desk in the shadow of the Skull Throne. The open circle, including all twelve
Damaji,
would not be called until Inevera took her place and the internal debate finished. Already Abban could hear them bickering in the hall.

Both circles tended to ignore Abban unless he spoke, and some of them even then. Abban was wise enough to encourage this, speaking only when spoken to, a rare thing now that Ahmann was gone.

Inevera had been in her chamber a long time. What in Nie’s abyss could be keeping her? There were riots in the streets, and the
Damaji
were close to losing control.

“First they strike us at night,” Aleverak shouted, “and now on the first day of Waning, profaning the bones of our heroes and the very temple of Everam! It is outrageous!”

“No thing happens, but Everam wills it.” Damaji Asukaji’s forearms had disappeared up the wide opposite sleeves of his robes, clutching his elbows as he had taken to doing now that he and Asome were forced to stand apart. Leader of the largest tribe in Krasia, his smooth faced betrayed a boy of but eighteen. “It is a sign we must not ignore. The Creator is angry.”

“This is what comes of being gentle with the
chin
after their cowardly attacks on the
sharaji
!” Jayan said. “Our show of weakness has only emboldened them to further aggression.”

“For once, I must agree with my brother,” Asome said. “The attack on Sharik Hora cannot go unanswered. Everam demands blood in response.”

Everam,
Abban prayed as he penned their words,
set a cup of couzi before me now, and I will give one of my wives to the
dama’ting.

But as ever, the Creator did not listen to Abban. All of them, Jayan, Asome, Asukaji, were children forced into roles beyond their experience. They should have had Ahmann’s guiding hand for decades to come. Instead, the fate of the world might rest upon their shoulders.

He suppressed a shudder at the thought. “He shall have a lake full of it.” None had noticed the Damajah exit her private chamber. Even Abban had been unaware, though she stood mere feet from him. He only glanced at her a moment, but it was long enough to note she had applied fresh makeup, though it did not mask entirely the puff around her eyes.

The Damajah had been weeping.

Everam’s beard,
he thought.
What in Heaven, Ala, and Nie’s abyss could make that woman weep?
Had she been a lesser woman, he might have attempted to offer comfort, but he respected the Damajah too much for that, and turned back to his parchment, pretending not to notice.

The others, oblivious, had no need to pretend. “Have you found the rebels at last, Mother?” Jayan asked.

Abban did not have Ahmann’s ability to see into hearts, but such skills were hardly necessary to read the eager gleam in the young Sharum Ka’s eyes. Jayan stood to win threefold this day. Once for appearing right when all his rivals were wrong, once for the glory he stood to gain when he quelled the rebellion, and once for his brutal nature, which already relished the prospect of inflicting pain and suffering on the
chin.

“The rebels are puppets.” Inevera rolled her dice thoughtfully in her hand. “Vermin placed in our silos by our true enemies.”

“Who, Mother?” Jayan could not hide the eagerness in his voice. “Who is to blame for these cowardly attacks?”

Inevera called a touch of power from the dice, causing them to glow. They cast her face in an ominous light that lent the will of Everam to her answer. “Lakton.”

“The fish men?” Ashan gaped. “They dare strike at us?”

“They were warned by Leesha Paper,” Inevera could not keep the venom from her voice at the name, “that we might attack as soon as spring. No doubt the dockmasters seek to sow discord to keep our armies at home.”

It was perfectly plausible, if patently false—at least so far as Abban knew. He suppressed a smile as the others accepted the accusation without question.

“I will crush them!” Jayan clenched a fist in the air. “I will kill every man, woman, and child! I will burn—”

Inevera rolled the dice in her fingers, manipulating the symbols, and their soft glow became a flare of light that cut Jayan’s words short as he and the others turned away, blinking spots from their eyes.

“Sharak Ka is coming, my son,” Inevera said. “We will need every able man that can lift a spear before it is done, and food for their bellies. We cannot afford to punish all in their lands for the actions of Lakton’s foolish princelings. You will keep to the Deliverer’s plan.”

Jayan crossed his arms. “And what plan is that? Father told us he meant to march just over a month from now, but no plan was ever discussed.”

Inevera nodded to Abban. “Tell them,
khaffit.
”

Jayan and the others turned incredulous looks his way.

“The
khaffit
?!” Jayan demanded. “I am Sharum Ka! Why does this
khaffit
know of battle plans when I do not? I should have been advising Father, not some pig-eater.”

“Because Father spoke to Everam,” Asome guessed, “and did not need your ‘advice.’ ” He glanced to Abban. “He only needed the tallies.”

Something about the cold assessment of Asome’s stare frightened Abban in ways Jayan’s aggression did not. He used his crutch to stand, then left it leaning on his desk. The men would give more weight to his words if he stood on his own two feet to deliver them. He cleared his throat, molding the clay of his face into a look of nervous deference to put his “betters” at ease.