The Desert Spear (13 page)

Jardir was among those who thrust their spears to drive the demon past the one-way wards. 'Everam's light burn you!' he screamed as he stabbed. The demon backpedaled, and then fell into the pit.

It was the greatest moment of his life.

Jardir looked around the ambush point. Two
dal'Sharum
had the flame demon pinned underwater with their spears in a shallow drowning pool. The water steamed and boiled as the demon thrashed, but the warriors held it steady until the last twitch.

The wounded Baiter seemed well enough, but Moshkama, the warrior with the severed leg, lay in a pool of blood, gasping and pale. He caught Jardir's eye and beckoned to him and Hasik, who went to him.

'Finish it,' he breathed. 'I have no wish to live as a cripple.'

Jardir glanced at Hasik.

'Do it,' Hasik ordered. 'It is not right to let him suffer.'

Jardir's thoughts flashed to Abban. How much suffering had he condemned his friend to by not granting him a warrior's death'

A
dal'Sharum's
duty is to support his brothers in death, as well as life,
Qeran had said.

'My spirit is ready,' Moshkama croaked. With weak, shaking fingers, he pulled open his robe, moving aside the fired-clay armor plates sewn into the cloth and baring his chest. Jardir looked in his eyes and saw honor and courage. Things Abban had been severely lacking.

He thrust his spear with pride.

'You did well, rat,' Hasik said when the horns had blown, signaling that there were no
alagai
left alive and untrapped in the Maze. 'I expected you to soak your bido, but you stood like a man.' He took another pull from the couzi flask and handed it to Jardir.

'Thank you,' Jardir said, drinking deeply, and pretending the harsh liquid did not burn his throat. Hasik still intimidated him, but it was true what the drillmasters said: Shedding blood together in the Maze had changed things. They were brothers now.

Hasik paced back and forth. 'My blood is always on fire after
alagai'sharak,
' he said. 'Nie damn the
Damaji
who decreed the great harem be sealed till dawn.' Several warriors grunted assent.

Jardir thought of the warrior carrying a
jiwah'Sharum
through the curtains that morning, and his face flushed.

Hasik caught the look. 'That excites you, rat'' he laughed. 'The son of piss is eager to take his first woman''

Jardir said nothing.

'Bido or no, I think this one will still be a boy tomorrow!' another warrior, Manik, laughed. 'He's too young to know what the pillow dancers are truly for!'

Jardir opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again. They were provoking him on purpose. Whatever had happened in the Maze, he was still
nie'Sharum
until the
dama'ting
foresaw his death. Any of the warriors could still kill him for the slightest insolence.

Surprisingly, Hasik came to his defense.

'Leave the rat alone,' he said. 'He's my
ajin'pal.
You mock him, you mock me.'

Manik puffed up at the challenge, but Hasik was young and strong. They eyed each other for a moment before Manik spat in the dust.

'Bah,' he said. 'It's not worth the trouble of gutting you just to mock a boy.' He turned and strode off.

'Thank you,' Jardir said.

'It's nothing,' Hasik replied, putting a hand on his shoulder. 'It is the duty of
ajin'pal
to look out for each other, and you would not be the first boy to fear the pillow dancers more than the
alagai.
The
dama'ting
teach sexcraft to the
jiwah'Sharum,
but the drillmasters give no such lessons in the
sharaji.
'

Jardir felt his face flush, wondering what lay in store for him in the pillows behind the curtains when the veils were lifted.

'Do not fear,' Hasik said, clapping him on the shoulder. 'I will teach you how to make a woman howl.'

They finished off the flask, and a wicked smile crossed Hasik's face. 'Come on, rat. I know of some fun we can find in the meantime.'

'Where are we going'' Jardir asked, stumbling as Hasik led him through the Maze. The couzi made his head spin, and his limbs watery. The walls seemed to move of their own accord.

Hasik turned, his smile wide. The gap in his teeth where Qeran had hit him on Jardir's first night in the Kaji'sharaj was a black hole in the moonlight.

'Going'' Hasik asked. 'We're here.'

Jardir looked around in confusion, and in that moment, colored light exploded before his eyes as Hasik hit him hard in the face.

Before he could react, Hasik was upon him, pinning him facedown in the dust. 'I promised to teach you to make a woman howl,' he said. 'For this lesson, you will be the woman.'

'No!' Jardir cried, thrashing, but Hasik smashed his face into the ground, making his ears ring. Twisting one of Jardir's arms behind his back, the heavy warrior held him down with one hand as he pulled down Jardir's bido with the other.

'Looks like you get to lose the bido twice in one night, rat!' he laughed.

Jardir tasted blood and dirt in his mouth. He tried to open himself to the pain, but for once, the power was beyond him, and his cries echoed through the Maze.

He was still weeping when the
dama'ting
found him.

She glided like a ghost, her white robes softly stirring the dust with her passage. Jardir stopped his sobbing and stared. Then reality suddenly focused, and he scrambled to pull up his bido. Shame filled him, and he hid his face.

The
dama'ting
clicked her tongue. 'On your feet, boy!' she snapped. 'You stand your ground against
alagai,
but weep like a woman over this' Everam needs
dal'Sharum,
not
khaffit
!'

Jardir wished the walls of the Maze would fall and crush him, but one did not refuse the orders of a
dama'ting.
He got to his feet, palming away his tears and wiping his nose.

'That's better,' the
dama'ting
said, 'if late. I would hate to have come all the way out here to foretell the life of a coward.'

The words stung Jardir. He was no coward. 'How did you find me''

She psshed, waving a hand at him. 'I knew to find you here years ago.'

Jardir stared at her, unbelieving, but it was clear from her stance that his belief mattered not at all to her. 'Come here, boy, that I may have a better look at you,' she commanded.

Jardir did as he was told, and the
dama'ting
grabbed his face, turning it this way and that to catch the moonlight. 'Young and strong,' she said. 'But so are all who get this far. You're younger than most, but that's seldom a good thing.'

'Are you here to foretell my death''

'Bold, too,' she muttered. 'There may be hope for you yet. Kneel, boy.'

He did, and the
dama'ting
knelt with him, spreading a white cloth to protect her pristine robes from the dust of the Maze.

'What do I care for your death'' she asked. 'I am here to foretell your life. Death is between you and Everam.'

She reached into her robes, pulling forth a small pouch made from thick black felt. She loosened the drawstrings, pouring its contents into her free hand with a clatter. Jardir saw over a dozen objects, black and smooth like obsidian, carved with wards that glowed redly in the dark.

'The
alagai hora,
' she said, lifting the objects toward him. Jardir gasped and recoiled at the name. She held the polished bones of demons, cut into many-sided dice. Even without touching them, Jardir could feel the dull throb of their evil magic.

'Back to cowardice'' the
dama'ting
asked mildly. 'What is the purpose of wards, if not to turn
alagai
magic to our own ends''

Jardir steeled himself, leaning back in.

'Hold out your arm,' she commanded, placing the felt bag in her lap and laying the dice on it. She reached into her robes, drawing forth a sharp curved blade etched with wards.

Jardir held out his arm, willing it not to shake. The cut was quick, and the
dama'ting
squeezed the wound, smearing her hand with blood. She took up the
alagai hora
in both hands, shaking them.

'Everam, giver of light and life, I beseech you, give this lowly servant knowledge of what is to come. Tell me of Ahmann, son of Hoshkamin, last scion of the line of Jardir, the seventh son of Kaji.'

As she shook the dice, their glow increased, flaring through her fingers until it seemed she held hot coals. She cast them down, scattering the bones on the ground before them.

She put her hands on her knees and hunched forward, studying the glowing markings. Her eyes widened and she hissed. Suddenly oblivious to the dirt that marred her pure white robes, the
dama'ting
crawled about intently, reading the pattern as the pulsing glow of the wards slowly faded. 'These bones must have been exposed to light,' she muttered, gathering them up.

Again she cut him and made the incantation, shaking vigorously, and again the dice flared. She threw them down.

'This cannot be!' she cried, snatching up the dice and throwing a third time. Even Jardir could tell that the pattern remained unchanged.

'What is it'' he dared to ask. 'What do you see''

The
dama'ting
looked up at him, and her eyes narrowed. 'The future is not yours to know, boy,' she said. Jardir recoiled at the anger in her tone, unsure if it was due to his impertinence or what she had seen.

Or both. What had the dice told her' His mind flashed back to the pottery he had allowed Abban to steal from Baha kad'Everam, and wondered if she could see that sin, as well.

The
dama'ting
collected the bones and returned them to the pouch before rising. She tucked the pouch away and shook the dust from her robes.

'Return to the Kaji pavilion and spend the remainder of the night in prayer,' she ordered, vanishing in the shadows so quickly Jardir wondered if she had truly been there at all.

Qeran kicked him awake while the warriors still slept all around him. 'Up, rat,' the drillmaster said. 'The
dama
has called for you.'

'Am I to lose my bido'' Jardir asked.

'The men say you fought well in the night,' Qeran said, 'but that's not for me to decide. Only
dama
may give a
nie'Sharum
his blacks.'

The drillmaster escorted him to the inner chambers of Sharik Hora. The cool stone floor felt hallowed under Jardir's bare feet.

'Drillmaster, may I ask a question'' Jardir said.

'This may be the last you ask of me as your instructor,' Qeran said, 'so make it good.'

'When the
dama'ting
came for you, how many times did she throw the dice''

The drillmaster glanced at him. 'Once. They only ever throw once. The dice never lie.'

Jardir wanted to say more, but they turned a corner and Dama Khevat was waiting for him. Khevat was the harshest of Jardir's instructors, the one who had called him the son of camel's piss and thrown him into the waste pits for his insolence.

The drillmaster put a hand on Jardir's shoulder. 'Mind your tongue if you would keep it, boy,' he muttered.

'Everam be with you,' Khevat greeted them. The drillmaster bowed, and Jardir did the same. A nod from the
dama,
and Qeran turned on his heel and vanished.

Khevat ushered Jardir into a small, windowless room filled with sheaves of paper and smelling of ink and lamp oil. It seemed a place more suited to a
khaffit
or a woman, but even here the bones of men filled the room. They formed the seat Jardir was directed to, and the desk Khevat sat behind. Even the sheaves of paper were held down by skulls.

'You continue to surprise me, son of Hoshkamin,' Khevat said. 'I did not believe you when you said you would win glory enough for you and your father both, but you seem determined to prove me wrong.'

Jardir shrugged. 'I have only done as any warrior would do.'

Khevat chuckled. 'The warriors I have known are not so modest. A kill wholly your own and five assists, at what' Thirteen''

'Twelve,' Jardir said.

'Twelve,' Khevat repeated. 'And you helped Moshkama die last night. Few
nie'Sharum
would have the heart for that.'

'It was his time,' Jardir said.

'Indeed,' Khevat said. 'Moshkama had no sons. As his brother in death, it will fall to you to bleach his bones for Sharik Hora.'

Jardir bowed. 'I am honored.'

'Your
dama'ting
came to me last night,' Khevat said.

Jardir looked up eagerly. 'I am to lose my bido''

Khevat shook his head. 'You are too young, she says. Returning you to
alagai'sharak
without further training and time to grow will only cost the Kaji a warrior.'

'I am not afraid to die,' Jardir said, 'if that is
inevera.
'

'Spoken like a true
Sharum,
' Khevat said, 'but it is not that simple. You are denied the Maze by her decree until you are older.'

Jardir scowled. 'So I must return to the Kaji'sharaj in shame after standing among men''