The Daylight War (100 page)

‘You must build an Undercity,’ Amanvah said.

‘Good start,’ a voice said behind her, ‘but it won’t be enough.’

Leesha turned, and her eyes widened. ‘Arlen!’ she cried, throwing her arms around him before she could help herself. He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing, and for the first time in days, she felt a touch of hope. ‘Thank the Creator you’re all right. We won’t survive another new moon without you.’

Arlen looked at her sadly. ‘May have to. I’m why the minds have come. It’s all my fault.’

‘That’s not—’ Leesha began.

‘Demons were in my head, Leesha,’ Arlen cut her off. ‘Heard their plans – and worse, they heard mine. Know everything I do, including my plans for Jardir, and for taking the offensive against them. Everything I’ve been devising, made worthless in an instant.’

He looked up, meeting Amanvah’s eyes. ‘Need to do something they won’t expect.’

‘H
ow dare you spin your lies in the court of the Deliverer,’ Damaji Qezan of the Jama tribe accused.

‘Lies?!’ Damaji Ichach of the Khanjin cried, his face growing red. ‘You are the one whose tongue drips with false witness. You know full well …’

Ichach and Qezan, neither the fittest to begin with, had put on even more weight in recent months. Virtually every Krasian had since they conquered the abundant green lands, but few so grossly.

Ahmann asu Hoshkamin am’Jardir am’Kaji, Shar’Dama Ka and the most powerful man in the world, looked at the squabbling clerics and had to suppress the urge to blood his spear with the both of them. The Jama and Khanjin were ever at each other’s throats.

Jardir felt stronger than ever in his life, muscles brimming with energy, yet he had never felt so weary as he did now, watching fat old men argue the latest bit of political nonsense even as the battle lines of Sharak Ka were being drawn.

It wasn’t just the Jama and Khanjin. The tribes had been united for years and were wealthy as never before, yet still they found reasons to offend one another, stealing wells and women just to burn rivals. The
Damaji
could have put a stop to it, but the cycle of vengeance on the council of
Damaji
was no better than that among the most incensed tribesmen. These men were
zahven
,
and the only thing that truly mattered to them was their standing among one another.

He noticed the
Damaji
looking at him, and realized he’d stopped paying attention. They were awaiting a decree, and he had no idea what for. Some bit of contested land …

Jardir looked to Jayan, standing at the foot of his dais. ‘Jayan my son, what think you of this great crisis between the Jama and Khanjin?’ He made no effort to hide the displeasure in his voice.

Jayan bowed deeply. ‘The Jama have a legitimate claim to injury, Father.’ Jardir saw Damaji Qezan puff up. ‘But so, too, do the Khanjin.’ Ichach straightened at that.

Jardir nodded. ‘And how would you deal with it in my place?’ Both
Damaji
turned in surprise to look at the young Sharum Ka. Traditionally, the Sharum Ka was the servant of the council, not the other way around, and Jayan was only nineteen. With the exception of Ashan, there was not a man on the council under sixty.

Jayan bowed again. ‘Both tribes have proven they are unworthy of the land. I would confiscate it for the war effort.’

Of
course
you
would
,
Jardir thought. Jayan had not been happy with the three million draki he had been given, but Jardir had seen Jayan’s clumsy accounting of how he had spent the war tax, and read between the lines.
The
only
one
of
my
sons
to
have
his
own
palace, and already it must be grander than any other.

He looked to Asome, standing beside Damaji Ashan and Dama Asukaji. ‘And you, Asome? Do you agree with your brother?’

Asome bowed. ‘The land is meaningless, Father, and will not solve the true problem.’

‘And what is that, my son?’ Jardir asked.

‘That Sharak Ka is nigh, yet the
Damaji
continue to waste the Deliverer’s time with petty matters even children could settle among themselves.’

There was a burst of chatter among the
Damaji
at this. Jardir thumped his spear on the marble dais. ‘Silence!’

The room quieted immediately. Jardir kept his eyes on Asome. ‘And your solution to this problem?’

‘Let the
Damaji
settle it among themselves.’ Asome turned, eyeing the two
Damaji
as his voice grew cold. ‘And give Damajis Qezan and Ichach three lashes of the alagai tail each for incentive.’ He dropped a hand to the barbed whip he carried on his belt. Every
dama
owned one – a symbol of the new power given when they took the white – but carrying them on one’s person had fallen from fashion over the centuries, only to be brought back by Asome. Now more and more
dama
carried the weapons with them at all times.

For a moment, there was utter silence, but then the entire court broke out in angry shouting.

‘How dare you, boy?!’ Qezan shouted.

‘Outrageous!’ Ichach growled.

Asome only smiled. ‘You see, Damaji? Already you agree on something.’ Qezan’s and Ichach’s faces grew so red, Jardir thought they might burst.

Careful, my son
,
he thought.
You
make
powerful
enemies.

Other clerics added outrage to the chorus. No
Damaji
had been whipped in centuries, and certainly not on the orders of a young
dama
not yet eighteen. They had become so secure in their power over the years they believed themselves above the laws that governed other men. Even Ashan, secure in the Deliverer’s favour and Asome’s uncle, looked at the boy in displeasure.

The
Damaji’ting
only looked on in silence.

‘Once again, my brother proves why he is heir to nothing,’ Jayan said with a smirk, but Asome did not flinch, his gaze cool. He did not have the look of an heir to nothing.

He
has
the
look
of
an
Andrah
,
Jardir thought.
As
if
his
appointment
is
a
foregone
conclusion.

Jardir considered. Asome had masterfully cornered him. If he followed Jayan’s solution, his second son would lose face, and indeed, the true problem would continue. But if he agreed …

Only Damaji Aleverak – once Jardir’s bitter enemy and now one of his most trusted advisors – was unperturbed. Aleverak gave Jardir his own share of frustration, but he was a man of honour and courage, a true leader to his people and not just a despot like many of his brethren on the council. He would never behave so foolishly as these men, and if he did, he would strip his robe and bend to receive the lash without losing a grain of dignity. But even Aleverak would not suggest a whipping in open council. Asome’s directness was a refreshing change.

Jardir glanced at Aleverak, and the ancient cleric gave a tiny nod, the gesture lost amid the chaos. He, too, carried an alagai tail.

‘The Damajah!’ came Hasik’s call from the door. All the men looked up, their conflict momentarily forgotten at the sight of Inevera.

She
does
take
the
breath
away
,
Jardir thought, gazing at his First Wife as his council bowed to her.

Inevera nodded in acceptance of the honour, but made no effort to approach the throne. She caught Jardir’s eye and touched her
hora
pouch, then inclined her head slightly towards her pillow chamber. There was no missing the meaning behind the gesture.

Her new
alagai
hora
were at last complete.

Jardir felt dizzied by the feelings that raised in him. For twenty-five years he had been a virtual slave to the
alagai
hora
,
the whole course of his life dictated by their throws. The last fortnight had felt freer than he imagined possible, unburdened by their yoke.

But with that freedom came uncertainty. The dice kept him captive in their way, but they gave him power, too. In those throws were truths he sorely needed if they were to win the Daylight War and Sharak Ka. The problem was that their truths were filtered through Inevera, and she kept her own counsel on which to share and which to keep.

He looked back at the
Damaji
,
still waiting in shocked silence for his response to their petty drama. ‘It shall be as both my sons suggest. The contested land will go to Jayan, and Damajis Ichach and Qezan will have the kiss of the alagai tail.’

All the clerics save Ashan and Aleverak opened their mouths to protest, but Jardir raised the Spear of Kaji and the words died on their tongues. ‘Damaji Aleverak will administer the punishments here and now.’

He set the spear butt on the dais with a thump that made several clerics flinch. ‘Sharak Ka is upon us, Damaji. We have no more time to fight among ourselves. From now on, these matters will be handled within your closed council. Waste my time like this again, and the next whippings will be in the city square for all to see.’

Faces blanched as Jardir descended the seven steps from his dais and strode past them, following Inevera.

Jardir watched the sway of Inevera’s hips as she strode into her pillow chamber, mesmerized as always by her beauty. Like his warriors who absorbed demon magic each night in
alagai’sharak
,
years of manipulating
alagai
hora
had lent his First Wife the air of immortality. She moved with the confidence of a matriarch, yet despite being forty-two and having borne him several children, her curves still had the bounce of a woman on the bright side of thirty.

But only a fool would think her value lay in her beauty. Would he be where he was today without Inevera? Would he have seized power when the opportunity came to him? Would it even have come, or would he be just another illiterate
dal’Sharum
– or worse, a bleached skull in Sharik Hora?

And
I
love
her
still
,
he thought, hating himself for the weakness. There were times he dared dream that she loved him in return, but in his heart he could not trust her. Not since the Andrah.

An image of the two of them entwined flashed in his mind’s eye, Inevera beautiful and seductive as ever as she rode the fat old man, manipulating him to her ends much as she did Jardir. What did her cries of pleasure in their marital pillows mean, now that he saw how easily she feigned them?

The Damajah’s pillow chamber had been completely remodelled since Ahmann’s last visit, when he stole inside with Leesha Paper. It had given them both pleasure to mark Inevera’s special place, the lovemaking intense and passionate. If his intent had been to hurt her, it seemed he had succeeded. His
Jiwah
Ka
had never spoken of the incident, but there had been a fire in the room the next day, destroying everything down to the stone walls. Officially, an oil lamp had accidentally tipped onto a pillow, but palace rumour had Inevera storming out of the burning room with a flame demon skull in hand. Now any hint of Leesha Paper was expunged.

For some reason, this only made Jardir love her more.

She
is
the
Damajah. Her jealousy is a storm, and she will suffer no woman to stand above her.
Did not Kaji ponder in his private diaries the same questions of his
Jiwah
Ka
? The holy verses said she vexed him and soothed him in turn, for the Deliverer’s First Wife was his
zahven
.