The Daylight War (50 page)

The men had been stripped down to bidos, their robes and other clothing burned. The
khaffit
wore tan, the
chin
a cloth the colour of green olives.

‘I do not care what titles the paltry excuses for drillmasters in
sharaj
gave you,’ Qeran shouted. ‘You are all
nie’Sharum
to me, and will be until you have proven yourselves. If you do well, you will be rewarded. A warrior’s robes and veil. Fine weapons and armour. Better food. Women. If you shame me,’ he stopped, looking just over the heads of the crowd, seeming to stare in all their eyes at once, ‘I will kill you.’

The men stood stock-still, backs arched and chests thrown forward, more than a few sweating and pale, even in the cool morning air. Qeran turned to Abban and nodded.

‘Now,’ Abban murmured to his nephew Jamere, but the young
dama
was already striding forward. He was tall but not thin, having never partaken in the dietary restrictions of the Evejah. Neither was he fat, moving with the fluid grace that marked Evejan clerics. Jamere had lived in Sharik Hora most of his life, and had copied or pilfered the secret
sharusahk
manuals of almost every tribe, mastering forbidden techniques. Skills he was all too happy to sell his uncle.

‘Kneel before Dama Jamere!’ Kaval barked, and the men fell immediately to their knees, none hesitating to put their palms in the dust.

Jamere held up his hands. In one, he held the writ Ahmann had signed, and in the other, the Evejah. ‘Loyal
nie’Sharum
! Ahmann asu Hoshkamin am’Jardir am’Kaji, Shar’Dama Ka and Everam’s voice on Ala, has given you to his servant Abban. It was Abban who brought the Deliverer’s eyes to you, giving men cast from Everam’s light a chance at redemption, a chance to prove your loyalty.’

He swept his gaze over the assembled men. ‘Are you loyal?’

‘Yes, Dama!’ they shouted as one.

‘Everam is watching!’ Jamere cried, sweeping his hands up to the sun. ‘Those who serve with loyalty and faith will see their rewards both on Ala and in Heaven. Those who break their oaths or fail in their duty will suffer greatly in their final hours before He casts their spirits down into Nie’s abyss.’

Abban suppressed a snicker. The fanatical light in his nephew’s eyes was nothing but a practised act, like that of a Northern Jongleur. The man was utterly faithless, and had been since before he was called by the clerics.

But the fear in the eyes of the men showed that his veil was perfect. Even Qeran seemed cowed as Jamere held out a copy of the Evejah.

‘Your spear hand,’ Jamere commanded, and the drillmaster laid his right hand on the worn leather.

‘Do you swear to serve Abban asu Chabin am’Haman am’Kaji?’ Jamere asked. ‘To protect him and obey him and no other save the Deliverer himself, from now until your death?’

Qeran hesitated. His eyes flicked to Abban, his brows bunching together in outrage. When the three men had met earlier to rehearse the oath-taking, no one had mentioned the drillmaster would be included. It was one thing for Abban to demand oaths from
khaffit
and
chin
, but another to expect one from a
dal’Sharum
drillmaster of Qeran’s stature.

Abban smiled in return.
Make
your
choice, Drillmaster
,
he thought.
Everam
is
watching, and you cannot take it back. Serve me, or go back to walking on a cheap peg and sleeping in your own vomit.

Qeran knew it, too. Abban had given him a path to glory, but glory had its price. The drillmaster looked to the waiting
nie’Sharum
, knowing that every second of hesitation would be a doubt he would have to beat from the men.

‘I swear to serve Abban,’ he growled at last, meeting Abban’s eyes, ‘until my death, or the Deliverer relieve me of the oath.’

Abban reached into his vest, producing a flask of couzi. He lifted it in salute to the warrior and drank.

L
eesha looked at the darkening sky and had to press a palm to her eye socket, easing a throb of pain. With their late start from Ahmann’s palace, the caravan to Deliverer’s Hollow made little progress that first day – perhaps ten miles. A Messenger might make the trip from Fort Rizon to Deliverer’s Hollow in under two weeks. The Spears of the Deliverer, fearing no demons and travelling at speed even at night, had done it in half that. Even the ride out had been swift as these things go, despite a slow cart to accommodate her parents, unaccustomed to the road.

Leesha’s father had never been robust even when young, and he was far from young now. Erny had back spasms daily on the journey out, and she’d been forced to give him relaxants that made him sleep like the dead. They rode in a far more comfortable carriage for the return, but while he never complained, Leesha saw him rubbing his back when he thought no one was looking, and knew the journey would be hard on him.

‘We should stop soon for the night,’ she told Shamavah, who shared the carriage with Leesha and her parents – at least when she wasn’t out shouting at the other women. Krasian women had their own pecking order, and it did not matter that Shamavah was the wife of a
khaffit
. All of the women – and the
kha’Sharum
as well – hopped at her commands, keeping the caravan in proper order.

Still, the heavily laden carts moved at a crawl that seemed to chafe at the jet-black chargers of the
dal’Sharum
and even the sturdy garrons Gared and Wonda rode. Leesha remembered Ahmann’s warning of bandits and bit her lip. Even in Krasian lands, there were many who would wish her dead. Beyond, the cartloads of food and clothing in the caravan might make them too much to resist for those who had lost everything when the Krasians came and took their homes. The
Sharum
would deter smaller bands, but there were women and children to hostage, and Leesha knew well that bandits would exploit such weaknesses.

‘Of course.’ Shamavah’s Thesan was almost as flawless as her husband’s. ‘There is a village, Kajiton, just over the next hill, and riders have already been sent to prepare a proper reception.’

Kajiton
. The name of the Krasian Deliverer with a Thesan suffix. It said much about the state of Rizon … or Everam’s Bounty, as she had best get used to calling it. Ahmann had given land to his tribes like a man slicing a birthday cake for his family, and while the hamlets had not been taken as brutally as Fort Rizon itself, it was clear from Leesha’s carriage window that the tribes had dug in, and Evejan law taken a firm hold.

There was no sign of any men of fighting age, save for those weak or infirm, and the Thesan women toiling in the fields did so in dresses of dark, sombre colour that covered them from ankle to neck, hair wrapped carefully in scarves. When the
dama
sang the call to prayer, or even came in sight, they were quick to prostrate themselves. The smell of hot Krasian spices drifted on the air, and a pidgin, part Krasian and part Thesan mixed with hand signs and facial expressions, was emerging.

The duchy she had known was gone, and even if the Krasians were somehow driven off, it was doubtful it would ever return.

‘Proper reception’ turned out to be almost everyone in the village bowing and scraping as they rode past, and the town inn emptied save for the staff. While thousands of people had fled the Krasian advance, forming refugee groups that swelled every hamlet and city north and east of Everam’s Bounty, it was clear that far more stayed behind, or were captured and herded back. There were hundreds of Thesans still in Kajiton alone. The land in Rizon was fertile, and the population was greater than all the other duchies combined.

As they rode into the town square, Leesha saw a large stake at its centre with a woman hanging limply from wrists chained high above her head. She was obviously dead, and the marks on her naked body, as well as the small stones that lay scattered about her, made clear the cause. A sign atop the stake had a single word in flowing Krasian script, but Leesha needed no translator, having seen it often enough in the Evejah.

Adulterer.

The pain in her head flared again, and she thought she might throw up in the carriage. She fumbled in the pockets of her apron, taking a root and a handful of leaves, popping them into her mouth without bothering to brew them into something palatable. They chewed into a bitter cure, but it settled her stomach. It would not do to show the Krasians her weakness.

They pulled up, and children scattered flower petals from the carriage doors to the steps of the inn, acting as if there were not a rotting corpse a few dozen feet away.

‘Children can adapt to anything,’ Bruna used to say, and it was true enough in Leesha’s experience, but no child should have to adapt to this.

The local
dama
awaited them, looking like he was carved from solid oak. His beard was iron grey and his eyes the blue of slate. Kaval, leading the procession, reined and leapt from his horse with an agility that belied the grey streaks in his beard, bowing to the
dama
and exchanging a few words. The cleric gave a shallow bow as Leesha stepped down from her carriage.

‘So this is the Northern witch who has beguiled Shar’Dama Ka,’ he muttered to Kaval in Krasian.

The scent of the petals under her feet did not cover the smell of death, and pain and outrage made her feel murderous. Now he presumed to judge her as well? It was all Leesha could do not to pull the knife from her belt and bury it in his throat.

Instead she gave him the imperious stare she had learned from Inevera. ‘The Northern witch understands you, Dama,’ she said. ‘What is your name, that I may tell Ahmann of your words of welcome?’

The cleric’s eyes widened in shock. In Krasia, unmarried women spoke only when spoken to, and would not dare take such a tone with a
dama
, who could – and often would – kill them for such an affront.

But Leesha had spoken the words in Krasian, showing she knew their ways, and her use of the Deliverer’s given name showed a familiarity that would make all but the most powerful
Damaji
wet their robes.

The
dama
hesitated, pride and the instinct for self-preservation
at war on his face. In the end he bowed again, this time so deeply his long beard swept the dust. ‘Dama Anju. Apologies, Holy Intended. I meant no disrespect.’

‘In my land, those who mean no disrespect remember to speak respectfully,’ Leesha said. She kept her words simple, her Krasian far from fluent. ‘Now remove that woman’s body and return it to her family to lay to rest according to their own custom. This is the wedding day of the Deliverer’s eldest daughter to Rojer asu Jessum am’Inn am’Hollow, and its presence is an offence.’

She was not entirely within her rights to speak for Rojer, but by calling him ‘am’Hollow’ – rather than the proper ‘am’Bridge’ for his birth city of Riverbridge – she had named him as Hollow tribe, which made them family in the eyes of the Krasians.

Dama Anju’s eyebrows began to twitch. Only
dama’ting
dared take such a tone and order
dama
about, and then only because it was clearly stated in the Evejah that it was death and a denial of Heaven to harm or physically hinder one in any way. Leesha was no
dama’ting
, but her tone made it clear she believed her position as holy intended accorded her the same rights.

The
dama
stopped breathing, and Leesha knew she had pushed him too far. She watched his face redden as his anger built and reached into her apron for a pinch of Bruna’s blinding powder. He would come at her in a moment, and she would put him down before everyone.

Anju began to move his feet.

‘Do not,’ Kaval warned, his voice a soft murmur.

The
dama
looked to the drillmaster and saw Kaval’s hand was on his spear. There were other sounds, and Anju turned to see the
dal’Sharum
of Leesha’s escort had done the same. Wonda had her bow trained on him, and Gared had his axe and machete in hand.

Anju eased into a more submissive posture, but his face was swollen and his breath quick and shallow. Leesha could not resist twisting the knife, meeting his eyes boldly. ‘To honour this holy occasion, it would please the son of Jessum if you released seven
chin
slaves, one for each pillar of Heaven.’

The impotent rage she saw in the
dama
’s slate eyes was bittersweet.
The
barest
taste
of
what
you
deserve
, she thought.

Leesha swept away before Anju could respond further, heading for the inn. In her wake, she heard her orders being carried out, and kept her face serene, showing nothing of what she felt.