The Daylight War (41 page)

‘Will you?’ Kenevah asked. ‘How do you think he will react when he learns you had to sheathe the Andrah’s own spear to win him the Spear Throne?’

Inevera felt her face grow cold. Kenevah knew? The gentle wind had become a sandstorm that could flay the bark from the supplest palm.

Again Kenevah laughed. ‘You think you’re special? That old pig has
dama’ting
offering to work his limp spear for favours every day. I bedded him myself, long before you were a cup of couzi in your father’s pathetic hand. Brides of Everam have never been above whoring for a favour, though it seems you’re better at it than most. Do you think Ahmann will strike you when he hears? It would be delicious irony to end your grab for power by putting your husband to death for hitting his
dama’ting
wife.’

Inevera felt a wave of fear pass over her.
No
blood
runs
hotter
than
a
cuckolded
Sharum, the Evejah’ting taught. It was possible Ahmann would fly into a rage and kill her or the Andrah or both. To take the Skull Throne he would need to kill the fat old man one day, but he would not be in a position to hold it until he had
nie’dama
sons in every tribe. A decade, at least.

‘What do you want?’ she asked.

‘A vial of your husband’s blood, to start,’ Kenevah said. ‘I will cast him myself—’

Inevera cut her off. ‘Absolutely not.’

‘You forget yourself, child,’ Kenevah growled. ‘I am still your mistress. You can refuse me nothing.’

Inevera whisked her hand dismissively. ‘The dice have called no other girl. By law, I will be
Damaji’ting
on your death whether you support it or not.’

‘If you live that long,’ Kenevah said. ‘I will have Ahmann Jardir’s blood, even if I must drain yours first. If he is truly fated for greatness, perhaps he can still be of use as a eunuch after you are safely locked away.’

Inevera sighed. ‘I had hoped to avoid this,’ she said, pulling a flame demon skull from her
hora
pouch.

Kenevah threw back her head and cackled. ‘A flame skull? You disappoint me, Inevera. I expected more of you.’ No doubt there were anti-flame wards all around her desk. She spread her arms in the air, palms out to show they were empty. ‘Strike. The dice will call another after I have killed you.’ She shook her head and tsked. ‘Such waste.’

‘Indeed,’ Inevera said, nodding. She turned and let loose a great blast of flame, but not at Kenevah. Instead she struck at the thick velvet curtains that covered the
Damaji’ting
’s great windows. They burst into a roaring flame so intense they came apart in seconds. Bright sunlight poured in, bouncing from the smoke to reach every nook and corner.

A circle of
hora
around where Inevera stood, obviously meant to trap her, exploded, leaving burning holes in the thick carpets. There were more bangs on Kenevah’s desk, and the old woman shrieked, pelted with burning shrapnel.

Inevera had already hidden her flame skull back in its protective pouch. She stalked calmly around the desk to stand in front of the old woman. The smoke stung her eyes and burned her lungs, but it was bearable. ‘No magic to aid you, old crone. We will settle this with
sharusahk
.’

To her credit, the old woman did not hesitate. A lifetime of
sharusahk
was not easily forgotten, even if she had not fought another woman in decades. Her attack, wind snaps palm, was perfectly executed.

But it was slow. Her form might be perfect, but Kenevah was fifty years Inevera’s senior, and it told in speed. Swaying branch diverted wind snaps palm and she stepped past, delivering a kick to the back of the old woman’s knee. Her leg collapsed, and Inevera took hold and bore her down.

Kenevah twisted and actually managed to reverse the hold as they struck the floor.
Sharusahk
taught to steal free energy whenever possible, and even an old woman could be formidable, given enough force to divert. They rolled about in the smoke and dwindling flames, grunting and growling. There was a pounding at the door, but Inevera had barred it securely.

Kenevah proved more formidable than expected, but the outcome was not in doubt as Inevera ceased giving the
Damaji’ting
energy to steal and instead pitted muscle against muscle in a slow push until she achieved the desired hold. Seconds later she popped one of Kenevah’s hips from the socket. The
Damaji’ting
’s howl was cut short as Inevera worked her way around, wrapping her legs tightly about Kenevah’s waist and reaching for the black veil that should have been hers long ago. She found it and pulled it tight around Kenevah’s throat, holding the
Damaji’ting
prone as her face reddened and seemed to inflate. Soon the old woman’s struggles ceased. Inevera held on a bit longer, then eased her grip and untied the silk.

She was holding the black hood and veil when the doors exploded in a blast of magic and Qeva and Enkido stepped in, followed by a dozen women,
dama’ting
and
nie
alike.

Qeva took in the destruction with horror in her eyes. Most of the flames had died out, but the room was filled with wreckage, charred and smoking. She took in the still form of her mother on the floor, stripped of her veil, and turned to Inevera with murder in her eyes.

‘Kenevah was old and weak,’ Inevera said loudly. ‘It is time the black hood passed on.’

‘How dare you?’ Qeva demanded. Killing a
Damaji’ting
to open a succession was certainly not without precedent, but to do it so openly was unheard of. ‘My mother and I taught you everything you know. For you to betray her after we took you in …’

Inevera laughed. ‘Took me in? I was not some beggar on the street or
nie’ting
. Do not reweave history to make yourself my saviour. You dragged me from my mother’s arms without a word and threw me in a pit where your own daughter tried to kill me.’ Melan was in the crowd, her clawed hand unmistakable. Inevera met her eyes, daring her to contradict.

‘And when I did not turn out as she wished,’ Inevera went on, ‘Kenevah tried to have me killed. Seven times, the dice tell me. I at least gave her the courtesy of doing it face-to-face.’

‘You lie,’ Qeva growled.

Inevera shook her head. ‘Why would I lie when my words are irrelevant? I am the only one the dice have called to succeed Kenevah. While I live, the Kaji
dama’ting
are mine.’

‘If you live,’ Qeva corrected, moving forward into a
sharusahk
stance. As she came out of the shadowed alcove, sunlight struck the
hora
she had used to blast open the doors, and the bone exploded in her hand. Qeva shrieked, and her concentration was lost as the concussion knocked her from her feet.

Inevera moved swiftly to finish her while she was distracted. A quick kill, and then only Melan could make a claim against her.

But Enkido stepped between them, delivering a camel kick that sent Inevera sprawling across the room.

‘Kill her!’ Qeva commanded as Inevera struggled to her feet.

‘You would have a eunuch settle who leads the women of our tribe?’ Inevera asked loudly. As she’d hoped, all eyes snapped
to Qeva for her response. In that moment she slipped her hand
into her
hora
pouch, clutching a bit of warded bone tightly in her fist, careful that no light should strike it.

‘You are not worthy to lead if you cannot defeat Enkido,’ Qeva growled. ‘My mother made him to be her spear beyond the grave.’

Inevera had no time for a retort as Enkido came in fast and hard, his
sharusahk
like nothing she had ever seen. The size
and ferocity of a
Sharum
,
the grace of a
dama
,
and the precision of a
dama’ting
. She had never once sensed anger in the man, but it radiated from him now.

All
Sharum
must
avenge
the
death
of
their
dama
master, even if it mean their death
,
the Evejah taught, and Kenevah had been no less his master for being a woman. She had mutilated him, crippled him, but Enkido loved
sharusahk
above all, and she had given him that to his heart’s content. Enkido came at Inevera with everything he had, and – she had to admit – without the aid of magic he would have been the end of her.

But the warded bit of demon bone in her hand pumped raw magic up her arm, flooding her limbs with strength and speed beyond anything mere flesh and bone could duplicate. She could sense Enkido’s confusion as his first strike missed and she jabbed stiffened fingers at his kidney.

It should have been a telling blow, but it was her turn to be surprised. Enkido was armoured. Her fingers struck one of the hard ceramic plates
Sharum
wore sewn into their robes in the Maze. She felt it shatter on impact, but the force of her blow went with it, leaving her fingers aching.

She managed to evade his return strike, barely, but he reversed again, catching her with a backhand blow to the face that cracked her head back like a whip. His following kick broke ribs and sent her crashing into Kenevah’s burning desk, which collapsed under her weight. There was a collective gasp from the crowd gathering in the office, encircling them.

Inevera had to strain to keep her fist tight and not lose the
hora
stone as she absorbed the impact, tucking into a ball and using some of the energy to roll to her feet past the wreckage. Enkido came on, but she had firm footing, and did not underestimate him again.

Back and forth they paced, Enkido striking and missing, Inevera landing quick blows in return that were largely shrugged off or turned by his armour. Both were wary now, and gave no real openings, no free energy. Inevera glanced at Qeva, waiting patiently just inside the ring of women around their battle, fresh and ready to take up where Enkido left off, should he be defeated.

And she would have
hora
of her own.

Enkido came at her with wilting flower, and Inevera could have slipped away, but on impulse she let the blow strike home. Her leg collapsed and Enkido pounced to take advantage, but Inevera drew on the power of the demon bone, restoring strength to her wilted limb. She came up at him hard, jabbing fingers into a space between his armour plates and causing him to clench his abdomen reflexively. While he was bent she landed several precise strikes to the lines of power in his neck and shoulder, then broke his knee with a hard stomp.

The eunuch did not cry out as he fell to the ground, even as much as a tongueless man might. He struggled to rise again, but though the strain showed in his brow, his remaining limbs would not obey. He calmed then, breathing deeply and looking up at her with quiet dignity, unafraid as he waited for her to finish him.

But Inevera had no interest in killing the eunuch. ‘You have honoured your mistress, Sharum, but Everam still has a plan for you.’ She felt the
hora
in her hands crumble into dust, drained, and wondered if she would regret the mercy. She was already labouring for breath, coughing in the smoky air.

Qeva took a
sharusahk
stance, but Inevera did not respond in kind.

‘Are we blind
dama
, following the most skilled fighter?’ Inevera asked the assembled women. ‘The Evejah’ting gave us the
alagai
hora
that we might never descend into such savagery.’

She looked at Qeva. ‘It was you who first cast the bones for me. You who pulled me in when you could easily have turned me away. Why? What did you see?’

‘Your future was hidden,’ Qeva said. ‘It was that, my mother told me to seek.’

Inevera nodded. She had known as much. ‘It is hidden no longer. Cast the bones again. Now, in the Chamber of Shadows for all to see.’

Qeva’s eyes widened at that, then narrowed, sensing a trap. A frantic whispering broke out among the surrounding women, and it closed on her.

Command
what
only
a
fool
would
refuse.