The Desert Spear (22 page)

'Be silent and attend his words,' Jardir snapped. 'The
khaffit
is offering you wisdom, my son, and you would be wise to take it.'

Jayan looked at his father in shock, but quickly bowed. 'Of course, Father.' His eyes shot daggers at Abban.

Jardir looked to Asome, who had stood quietly through all this. 'And you, my son' What say you to the
khaffit's
words''

'The unworthy one makes a fair point,' Asome conceded. 'There are still those among the
Damaji
who resent your rise, and they would use any privation of their tribesmen as excuse to sow discord.'

Jardir nodded. 'And what would you do to attend this problem''

Asome shrugged. 'Kill and replace the disloyal
Damaji
before they grow bold.'

'That would sow discord of its own,' Jardir noted. He looked to Abban.

'It's too costly to keep our army together in the city,' Abban said. 'And so they must be dispersed into the hamlets.' Jardir's sons looked at the fat merchant incredulously.

'Disband our army' What foolishness is this'' Jayan demanded. 'Father, this
khaffit
is a coward and a fool! I beg you, let me kill him!'

'Idiot boy!' Jardir snapped. 'Do you think the
khaffit
speaks words unknown to me''

Jayan looked at him in shock.

'One day, my sons,' Jardir said, looking from Jayan to Asome and back, 'I will die. If you have any wish to survive the days that follow, you must listen for wisdom from every side.'

Jayan turned to Abban and bowed. It was a minuscule thing, barely a nod, and his eyes shot death at the fat merchant for shaming him. 'Please,
khaffit,
do share your wisdom.'

Abban bowed in return, though even with his crutch he could have gone lower. 'With the lost granaries, the central city cannot support all of Krasia's peoples without privation, my prince. But there are hundreds of small villages, arranged around this city like the spokes of a wheel. We will have the greenland duke provide lists, and divide them among the tribes.'

'That is a vast territory to hold,' Asome noted.

Abban shrugged. 'Hold from whom' No army threatens us, and as my prince says, the
chin
are ideal slaves. Better to let the Shar'Dama Ka's armies disperse until needed, saving him the need to provide for them. Instead, they each take a territory to forage on and tax, hunting its
alagai
at night. They can form greenland
sharaji
to train the boys in their territories, and leave the women and elderly to plant another crop in the spring. A year from now, the tribes will be richer than they have ever been, with thousands of greenland
nie'Sharum.
Give the tribes wealth instead of privations, and by the time the novices come of age, the Shar'Dama Ka will control the largest army the world has ever known, fanatically loyal, and, best of all, paying for itself.'

Jardir looked at his sons. 'Do you see now the use of
khaffit
''

'Yes, Father,' the boys answered, dipping identical bows.

Damaji Ashan entered the throne room, sweeping smoothly onto his hands and knees, touching his forehead to the floor. His white robes were flecked with blood, and there was a grim set to his eyes beneath his black turban.

'Rise, my friend,' Jardir said. Ashan had always been his most loyal counselor, even before his rise to power. Now he spoke for the whole of the Kaji, the most powerful tribe in Krasia, and he had named as his successor his eldest son, Asukaji, Jardir's nephew by his sister Imisandre. After Jardir himself, there was no man in all the world as powerful.

'Shar'Dama Ka, there is news you must hear,' Ashan said.

Jardir nodded. 'Your counsel is always welcome, my friend. Speak.'

Ashan shook his head. 'Best you hear the words directly from their source, Deliverer.'

Jardir raised an eyebrow at this, but he nodded, following Ashan out of the manse and onto the frozen city streets. Not far from Jardir's palace lay one of the
chin
houses of worship. It was mean and unadorned compared with the great Sharik Hora, but it was an impressive structure by Northland standards'three stories of thick stone, and powerfully warded.

Ashan led the way inside, and Jardir saw that the
dama
had done more than simply claim the Holy House. Already they were decorating it with the bleached and lacquered bones of the
dal'Sharum
who had died in battle since leaving the Desert Spear. With the spirits of the honored dead to guard it, no building in the North would be more secure.

Down they went, stone steps leading into a maze of cold catacombs below the structure.

'The
chin
interred their honored dead here,' Ashan explained as Jardir studied the empty nooks in the walls. 'We have since cleaned it of such unworthy filth and turned these tunnels to better purpose.'

As if on cue, a man screamed, his cries of agony echoing through the sunken halls. Ashan paid the sound no mind, leading Jardir through the tunnels to a particular room. Within, several of the Northern clerics'Tenders, as they were called'hung by their wrists, suspended from a ceiling beam in the middle of the room. The tops of their robes were torn away, and their flesh was streaked with the deep cuts of the alagai tail'a whip that could break the will of even the strongest men.

Ashan waved away the
dal'Sharum
torturers, striding up to one of the prisoners.

'You,' he said, pointing, 'repeat what you told me to the Shar'Dama Ka, if you dare.'

The Tender raised his head weakly. One of his eyes was puffed shut, and tears ran freely from the other, streaking the blood and filth on his face.

'Go t' th' Core,' he slurred, and attempted to spit at Ashan. It was a weak effort, and the bloody spittle only ran down his lower lip.

In response, the torturer came forward, a pliers in his hands. He gripped the Tender's face firmly, forcing his mouth open and clamping the pliers on one of his front teeth. The man's screams filled the room.

'Enough,' Jardir said after a moment. The torturer stopped immediately, bowing and receding to the wall. The Tender hung limply from the shackles at his wrists. Jardir went up to him, looking at him sadly. 'I am the Shar'Dama Ka, sent by Everam, who is infinitely merciful. Speak and speak truly, and I will put an end to your suffering.'

The Tender looked up at him, and seemed to regain something of himself. 'I know you,' he croaked. 'You claim to be the Deliverer, but you are not him.'

'And how do you know that'' Jardir asked.

'Because the Deliverer has already come,' the Tender said. 'The Painted Man walks in darkness, and the corelings flee from his sight. He saved Deliverer's Hollow from the brink of destruction, and he will deal with you in your turn.'

Jardir looked to Ashan in surprise.

'This is not just one man's word, Shar'Dama Ka,' the
Damaji
said. 'Other
chin
speak of this warded infidel. You will need to destroy this false prophet, and quickly, if you are to secure your rightful place.'

Jardir shook his head. 'You sound like my wife, old friend.'

GREENLANDER

326 AR

'ONE DAY, I WILL be Sharum Ka!' Jayan shouted, thrusting his spear at the rag-stuffed dummy Jardir had made for him. It swung lazily from a rope tied to a ceiling beam.

Jardir laughed, delighting in his son's energy. Jayan was twelve now, already in his bido, and never hungry in the food line. Jardir had begun teaching his sons the
sharukin
the day they took their first steps.

'
I
want to be Sharum Ka,' Asome, eleven, lamented. 'I don't want to be a stupid
dama.
' He plucked at the white cloth he wore over one shoulder.

'Ah, but you will be the Sharum Ka's connection to Everam,' Jardir said. 'And perhaps one day,
Damaji
to all the Kaji. Even Andrah.' He smiled, but inwardly, he agreed with the boy. He wanted warriors for sons, not clerics. Sharak Ka was coming.

Inevera had originally wanted Jayan to wear the white, but Jardir had categorically refused. It was one of his few victories over her, but he wondered just how much of a victory it was. It was as likely she had wanted Asome to wear the white all along.

The other boys clustered about, watching their older brothers with awe. Most of Jardir's other sons were too young for
Hannu Pash,
and had to wait to find their path. The second sons would be
dama,
the others,
Sharum.
It was the first night of Waning, when the forces of Nie were said to be their strongest and Alagai Ka stalked the night. Nothing gave a warrior strength in the night like seeing his sons.

And daughters,
he thought, turning to Inevera. 'It would please me if my daughters could return home for Waning each month, as well.'

Inevera shook her head. 'Their training must not be disturbed, husband. The
Hannu Pash
of the
nie'dama'ting
is'rigorous.' Indeed, the girls were taken much younger than his sons. He had not seen his eldest daughters in years.

'Surely they cannot all become
dama'ting,
' Jardir said. 'I must have daughters to marry to my loyal men.'

'And so you shall,' Inevera replied. 'Daughters no man dare harm, who are loyal to you over even their husbands.'

'And to Everam, over even their father,' Jardir muttered.

'Of course,' Inevera said, and he could sense his wife's smile behind her veil. He was about to retort when Ashan came into the room. His son Asukaji, the same age as Asome, trailed behind him in his
nie'dama
bido. Ashan bowed to Jardir.

'Sharum Ka, there is a matter the
kai'Sharum
wish you to settle.'

'I am with my sons, Ashan,' Jardir said. 'Can it not wait''

'Apologies, First Warrior, but I do not think it can.'

'Very well,' Jardir sighed. 'What is it''

Ashan bowed again. 'I think it best the Sharum Ka see the problem for himself,' he said.

Jardir raised an eyebrow. Ashan had never been reluctant to give his assessment of anything before, even when he knew Jardir would disagree.

'Jayan!' he called. 'Fetch my spear and shield! Asome! My robes!'

The boys scurried to comply as Jardir stood. To his surprise, Inevera rose as well. 'I will walk with my husband.'

Ashan bowed. 'Of course,
dama'ting.
'

Jardir looked at her sharply. What did she know' What had the cursed bones told her about this night'

Leaving the children behind, the three of them were soon on their way, descending the great stone stairs of the palace of the Sharum Ka, which faced the
Sharum
training grounds. At the far end was Sharik Hora, and on the long sides between were the pavilions of the tribes.

Near the base of his steps, well inside the palace walls, a group of
Sharum
and
dama
surrounded a pair of
khaffit.
Jardir grew angry at the sight. It was an insult to have the feet of
khaffit
sully the grounds of the Sharum Ka's keep. He opened his mouth to say just that when one of the
khaffit
caught his eye.

Abban.

Jardir had not thought of his old friend in years, as if the boy had indeed died the night he broke his oaths. More than fifteen years had passed since then, and if Jardir had changed from the small, skinny boy in a bido he had been, the change in Abban was even more pronounced.

The former
nie'Sharum
had grown enormously fat, almost as grotesque as the Andrah. He still wore the tan vest and cap of
khaffit,
but under the vest were a bright shirt and pantaloons of multicolored silk, and he had wrapped the tan conical cap in a turban of red silk with a gem set at the center. His belt and slippers were of snakeskin. He leaned on an ivory crutch, carved in the likeness of a camel, with his armpit resting between its humps.

'What makes you think you are worthy to stand here among men'' Jardir demanded.

'Apologies, great one,' Abban said, dropping to his hands and knees in the dirt and pressing his forehead down. Shanjat, now a
kai'Sharum,
laughed and kicked his backside.

'Look at you,' Jardir snarled. 'You dress like a woman and flaunt your tainted wealth as if it is not an insult to everything we believe. I should have let you fall.'

'Please, great master,' Abban said. 'I mean no insult. I am only here to translate.'

'Translate'' Jardir glanced up at the other
khaffit
who had come with Abban.

But the other man was not
khaffit
at all. It was instantly apparent from his light skin and hair, his clothes, and even more so from the well-worn spear the man carried. He was a
chin.
An outsider from the green lands to the north.

'A
chin
'' Jardir asked, turning to his
dama.
'You called me here to speak to a
chin
''

'Listen to his words,' Ashan urged. 'You will see.'

Jardir looked at the greenlander, having never seen a
chin
up close before. He knew Northern Messengers sometimes came to the Great Bazaar, but that was not a place for men, and his memories of it from childhood were vague things, tainted by hunger and shame.