The Skull Throne (79 page)

Confirmation of Jayan’s death brought a wave of anguish, made worse by the guilty feeling of relief that the moment she’d dreaded for so long had finally come.

There would be time to fill tear bottles later. She envisioned the palm bending before the wind of her pain and focused her breath until she was ready to cast again.

—Three times will your power be challenged tonight.—

This gave her pause, and for a moment, she felt a touch of fear. Her eyes flicked to the single entrance to her casting chamber. Outside Micha and Jarvah waited with Damaji’ting Qeva, ready to defend her with their lives. Other
Sharum’ting
waited outside her chambers, as well as eunuch guards trained by Enkido himself.

If the news of Jayan’s defeat reached the
Damaji,
there was no telling what they might do. None of them could be trusted, schemers all. They would not hesitate to act if it was in their interests.

She lifted the dice a third time. “Almighty Everam, Giver of Life and Light, give your humble servant knowledge of what is to come. Who will challenge me this night?”

The dice flared and fell into a complex pattern as always, but the message was simple.

—Wait.—

There was a cry outside the chamber.

Melan looked up as Inevera entered the room. She had removed her white headwrap, holding her mother’s black one in hand. Qeva lay at her feet, aura extinguished in death. Across the chamber by the doors lay Micha and Jarvah. Their auras were flat and dim, and they lay unmoving.

To Inevera’s shock, Melan laughed. It was so unexpected, she hesitated.

“Come, Damajah!” Melan cried. “Can you not see the irony? Is this not precisely how we found you with my grandmother all those years ago?”

It was true enough. Inevera had not wanted to assume leadership of the Kaji Dama’ting prematurely, but when Kenevah had threatened her plans to put Ahmann on the Skull Throne, she had not hesitated to kill the old woman.

“Perhaps,” she allowed, “but it was not matricide as well.”

“Of course not,” Melan sneered. “The weaver’s daughter could never harm her sainted mother. How is Manvah? Still in the bazaar? Perhaps the time has come to pay her a visit.”

Inevera had heard enough. She raised her
hora
wand, firing a blast of magic at Melan.

The instant she raised the wand, Melan’s hand darted into her robe, holding a warded piece of rock demon armor, plated in gold. The magic bent around the warding, tearing apart the room and leaving Melan untouched.

She’s ready for me,
Inevera realized. “How long have you planned this betrayal, Melan?”

Melan held up her burned, misshapen claw of a hand. “Do you have to ask?” She snorted. “Longer. Since your first bido weave, I have dreamed of this day.

“But Everam spoke to you. The dice named Ahmann Jardir Shar’Dama Ka and you his Damajah. What could I do, but obey?”

Melan pointed one of her talons at Inevera. “But you failed to foretell Ahmann Jardir’s defeat, and have not kept our people unified in his absence. Everam favors you no longer. The dice have spoken against you ever since the Northern whore supplanted you in the pillows. It is time for a new Shar’Dama Ka and a new Damajah.”

Inevera laughed. “You don’t have what it takes to satisfy my
push’ting
son.”

“No woman does,” Melan agreed, “and I haven’t the recognition our people need in any event.”

“Kajivah,” Inevera spat the name.

Melan clapped her misshapen hand. “How delicious that you yourself handed me the weapon. Asome will have beatified her by now, and she will occupy your pillows by the throne … a few steps down. A figurehead and blunt instrument, but one we’ve learned to aim quite effectively.”

Inevera raised her
hora
wand. “You won’t be aiming anything, Melan. You walk the lonely path tonight.”

Something stuck Inevera then, knocking her across the room. If she had not been strengthened by magic, the force would have left her broken and helpless. As it was, she was thrown like a doll and hit the floor with a jolt that sent pain lancing up her limbs and the wand clattering from her grasp. She looked in the direction the strike had come from, the room momentarily spinning.

But then the whirl resolved into Dama’ting Asavi, who was supposed to be hundreds of miles away.

Advising Jayan.

“You killed my son,” Inevera said.

“It was your own prophecy that spoke his doom.” Asavi put a hand to her breast. “Since the wise Damajah chose not to reveal it to her son, who was I to speak it to him?”

He would not have listened, in any event,
Inevera thought. But it did nothing to lessen the pain as the words cut into her, nor the anger blowing through her like a hurricane.

Melan and Asavi spread out to opposite sides of the room, keeping Inevera between them so it became difficult to see them both at once. Their auras were brightening, each having activated a
hora
stone to strengthen herself for the fight to come. Their jewelry and the items in their hands all shone with power.

Too much power for Inevera’s comfort. Her eyes flicked to her
hora
wand, but Melan kicked it farther away.

Made from the limb of a demon prince, the weapon was more powerful than all Melan and Asavi’s
hora
combined. So powerful that Inevera had come to rely on it overmuch, and had few other items of offensive magic on her person. She took comfort, at least, that it was useless to her enemies without hours to study how she had positioned the wards of activation.

But even disarmed Inevera was not defenseless, as Asavi learned when she raised a flame demon skull and sent a jet of fire at her. One of Inevera’s rings tingled and the fire became a breeze as it passed over her.

Inevera wasted no time, darting right into the fire and kicking the skull from Asavi’s hands. She followed through into a full spin, meaning to drive an elbow into the woman’s throat, but Asavi was no novice to
sharusahk.
She slipped a hand under Inevera’s elbow and pulled it along its natural circuit as she dropped her own weight, attempting a takedown with wilting flower, a
sharukin
that would shatter the line of power in her leg.

Inevera adapted quickly, turning her thigh to protect the convergence point. Asavi’s fingers missed only by an inch, but it was enough, and her leg remained planted as she used Asavi’s own momentum to drive her hard into the floor.

But before she could press the advantage, Melan threw a handful of wind demon teeth at her. The wards cut into the teeth activated, sending them flying with speed to make the air crack.

She threw a hand up, halfway between her face and chest. One of her bracelets was warded against wind demons, and a flare of magic protected her vitals.

Other parts of her body were not so fortunate. Wind demon teeth were sharp as needles and thick as straw. One punched a hole through her stomach, another her hip.

Inevera Drew hard on her jewelry again, healing the punctures, but two of the teeth were embedded in her thigh, and she did not have time to pull them free.

She stomped down, but Asavi had already rolled out of the way and kicked back onto her feet. Melan was raising a tube made from the leathery wing of a wind demon, and she knew what was coming next.

With nowhere to run, Inevera dropped to the ground just as the blast of wind struck her like the hand of Everam, slapping her down onto the floor so hard she felt floorboards crack beneath her.

Asavi threw a wardstone as Inevera lifted her legs to kick herself upright. It skittered across the floor, leaving a trail of ice in its wake. Power enough to freeze an enemy solid.

Inevera Drew on her ruby ring, the gold molded around a circlet of flame demon bone, and her body was filled with warmth to fend off the cold as she kicked the stone toward Melan.

The woman had been readying another gust of wind when the cold stone came her way. Desperately she turned the tube of demon wing and loosed. She succeeded in blowing the stone away, but she foolishly aimed the blast at the floor, and the rebound knocked her from her feet.

Inevera closed the distance between her and Asavi, driving pointed fingers into her shoulder. Asavi was not quick enough to block fully, but she tapped Inevera’s forearm just enough to protect her convergence point, turning a crippling blow into one merely painful.

With Inevera in close, Asavi caught her shoulder, holding her in place as her knee drove into Inevera’s kidney, once, again. Inevera accepted the blows for the chance to hook Asavi’s knee with her free arm, again taking the woman down. She snaked her other arm around Asavi’s leg as well, preparing to twist it from the socket.

She was not able to complete the move, but it had the desired effect. Unwilling to let her lover be maimed, or to strike with magic while she was in its path, Melan moved in close to join the fight.

Inevera had to drop Asavi’s leg to block Melan’s whip kick, striking a return blow to her chest that would have broken the breastplate of a normal woman. But Melan, too, was strengthened by magic, and resisted the blow as she fell back, kicking Inevera hard in the crotch.

Unlike other points, where an inch meant the difference between striking a convergence or not, much of a woman’s power centered between her legs, and the target was difficult to miss. Nerve clusters screamed in pain and Inevera’s legs went momentarily weak. Asavi was ready, kicking at them and at last taking her down.

Rather than be pulled, Inevera threw her weight into the fall, catching Asavi by the back of her neck and rolling to put the woman on top just in time to catch Melan’s driving knee in the back. Inevera kicked the two women into each other, rolling to her feet and sprinting across the room for her
hora
wand.

As fast as she ran, Melan’s throw was faster. Like a glowing coal, the
hora
stone streaked through the air to land between her and the weapon, impact wards blowing a gaping hole in the floor and striking her with debris. She had no wards against wood, and it left her bloodied and pincushioned with splinters. Amidst the smoke and dust, she lost sight of her wand.

There were shouts from outside, drawn to the commotion, but Asavi threw another impact stone at the doorway, collapsing the frame to prevent any from coming to Inevera’s aid.

Again Inevera Drew for healing, but she felt the reservoir of power in her jewels dwindling. She could not continue depleting
hora
at this rate.

Desperately, she reached into her
hora
pouch, closing her fingers about the familiar contours of her dice. She did not even need to look at them as she held them aloft and summoned light.

Light wards were among the first
nie’dama’ting
carved into their dice, that they might work further by Everam’s light. Even a novice could do it. Melan and Asavi laughed at the effort.

But Inevera’s dice were carved of mind demon bone, focused by pure electrum. The light she called shone like the sun itself, and the women shrieked, turning from the glare.

By the time they caught their senses, Inevera had caught Asavi’s arm, torquing it back until she felt cartilage pop and the woman screamed.

The move cost her a slash of Melan’s talons across the face. Blood began to flow into her eyes as she caught the follow-up blow and struck a convergence that sent Melan stumbling back.

She had to pause to pull her forearm across her eyes, wiping the blood away. Again she Drew for healing, but this time she felt the well run dry as the bleeding slowed. Asavi camel-kicked her away, pausing as she too Drew for healing.

The next minutes were a blur. Inevera was forced to focus almost entirely on defense as the women pressed her from both sides. They had come prepared, their auras continuing to glow brightly even as Inevera’s dimmed and she began to slow.

More, Asavi and Melan had been fighting together their entire lives, designing their own
sharukin
to fight in perfect harmony. Blocking one opened Inevera to attacks from the other, and the women took full advantage.

Inevera found herself missing more and more blocks as her power waned, and the few counters she managed amidst the pummeling were easily blocked. It became clear they were toying with her, savoring the moment.

“Accept your fate,” Melan said, landing a kick to the side of the head that sent Inevera reeling.

“Everam has forsaken you,” Asavi said, kicking her back the other way.

“It is your own fault,” Melan said, punching Inevera in the jaw so hard it took her feet from under her.

Asavi was positioned to catch her as she fell, dropping to one knee and driving Inevera hard into it. Inevera coughed a spatter of blood as the air was blasted from her, and Asavi hurled her onto her back. “You have grown complacent in your power, coming into battle with little more than your dice, flawed since you coated them as the Evejah forbid.”

Was it true? Had the dice turned from her? Had she truly fallen from Everam’s favor? If so, what had been her failing? Not confirming the death of the Par’chin? Coating her dice? Allowing Ahmann into
Domin Sharum
? What might she have done differently?

But then she remembered something, and her hand dropped to her
hora
pouch.

“They warned me,” she croaked.

“Eh?” Melan asked.

“The dice.” Inevera gasped as she reached into the pouch. “They warned me my power would be challenged. Everam has not forsaken me. This is just another test.”

It was forbidden in the Evejah to Draw on one’s dice for anything save light and foretelling, lest the
hora
might become so drained as to cause false foretellings. More, the items were the most precious thing a
dama’ting
owned. They were her key to the white, her guide through life, the heart of her power. No
dama’ting
would risk harm to her dice.

But Inevera had already lost her dice once, leaving her blind until she could carve a new set. The price was high, but she was stronger for paying it.