The Desert Spear (32 page)

'You do not think I can do this'' Jardir asked. 'I am the Deliverer!'

'No, Ahmann, you are not,' Abban said quietly. 'If it was anyone, we both know it was the Par'chin.'

Jardir glared at him, and Abban glared right back, as if daring Jardir to strike him.

'So you won't help me willingly,' Jardir said.

Abban smiled. 'I never said
that,
my friend. There is great profit in war.'

'But you doubt I can succeed,' Jardir said.

Abban shrugged. 'The Northland is far bigger than you think, Ahmann, and more populous than Krasia by far.'

Jardir scoffed. 'You doubt any ten, any
hundred
Northern cowards can match even one
dal'Sharum
''

Abban shook his head. 'I would never doubt you about great things like battle. But I am
khaffit,
and doubt small things.' He looked at Jardir pointedly. 'Like the food and water supplies you would need to cross the desert. The men you would need to leave behind to hold the Desert Spear and captured territory. The wagonloads of
khaffit
to serve the army's needs, and women to sate their lusts. And who would protect the women and children you leave behind' The
dama
' What will they turn this city into while you are gone''

Jardir was taken aback. Indeed, in his dreams of conquest in battle, such things had seemed too inconsequential to matter. Inevera had been masterful in manipulating his rise, but somehow he doubted she considered such things, either. He looked at Abban with new respect.

'My coffers would open wide to someone who could care for such small things,' he said.

Abban smiled, bowing as low as his crutch would allow. 'It would be my pleasure to serve the Shar'Dama Ka.'

Jardir nodded. 'I want to march in three summers.' He put his arm around Abban, drawing him close like a friend and putting his lips within inches of Abban's ear.

'And if you ever try to cheat me like some mark in the bazaar,' he added in a low voice, 'I will tan your skin and use it as a dung sack. That is a promise you should remember.'

Abban paled and nodded quickly. 'I will never forget it.'

KHA'SHARUM

331 AR

JARDIR HISSED, EMBRACING THE CUT.

'Am I hurting you'' Inevera asked.

'I've taken far worse in the Maze,' Jardir scoffed. 'But if you should slip at a tendon''

Inevera snorted. 'I know the course of a man's flesh far better than you, husband. This is no different than carving
alagai hora.
'

Jardir looked at the silver tray that held the thin strips of flesh she had sliced from the palm of his hand. He let the sting pass through him as Inevera packed herbs into the wounds. 'I fail to see the need for this.'

'According to the Canon we took from one of the Northern Messengers in the dungeon, the greenlanders believe the Deliverer will have marked flesh that corelings cannot abide,' Inevera said. She let go of his hand, allowing him to raise it before his eyes, marveling at the precision of the ward she had cut into the skin.

'Will they work'' he asked, flexing his hand experimentally.

Inevera nodded. 'When I am through, your touch will bring more harm to the
alagai
than a thrust from the Spear of Kaji itself.'

Jardir felt a thrill run through him. The thought of wrestling a demon on its own terms and killing it with his bare hands was intoxicating.

Inevera had just finished binding the hand when Damaji Ashan entered the throne room, followed by his son Asukaji and Jardir's second son, Asome. Both young to be wearing the white robes of
dama,
but they were Blood of the Deliverer, and none dared question it.

'Deliverer,' Ashan greeted him, bowing. 'The
khaffit,
' he spat the word as if it had a foul taste, 'is here with the tallies.' Jardir nodded, and Abban limped into the room on his ivory camel crutch while Inevera draped herself at Jardir's feet. Damaji Aleverak followed Abban in, the empty right sleeve of his robe pinned back. Jardir's son Maji, in his
nie'dama
bido, shadowed his steps. They joined Ashan, Asukaji, and Asome to the right of the Skull Throne.

Abban bowed and pulled a small vial from his belt. He threw it to Jardir. 'Dama Qavan of the Mehnding asked me to give you that,' he said.

Jardir caught the vial and looked at it curiously. 'He asked you to give this''

'The contents, anyway,' Abban said. 'Mixed in your food or drink.'

Inevera snatched the vial from Jardir and pulled the stopper, sniffing the contents. She put a drop on the tip of her finger, tasting it.

'Tunnel asp venom,' she said, spitting. 'Enough to kill ten men.'

Jardir tilted his head at Abban 'What did he pay you''

Abban smiled, lifting a jingling sack of coins. 'A
Damaji's
ransom.'

Jardir nodded. Damaji Enkaji of the Mehnding had proven a vocal supporter of him in public, but this was not the first assassination attempt to come from one of his minions.

'I'll have Dama Qavan arrested and put to the question,' Ashan said.

'It's a waste of time,' Abban said. 'He won't betray his
Damaji
to your torturers. He is better left alone.'

'No one asked your opinion,
khaffit
!' Damaji Aleverak growled, making Abban jump. 'We can't let the man live to further plot against the Shar'Dama Ka.'

'Perhaps the
khaffit
has a point, husband,' Inevera interrupted, drawing the outraged glare Aleverak always gave when the woman dared speak her mind before the Skull Throne. 'Abban can tell Qavan you ate the poison without so much as a cramp, and seed the tale in the bazaar to spread it everywhere. Project such invincibility, and even the bravest assassin may reconsider his course.'

'The Damajah is wise,' Abban said with a bow. They were two of a kind, he and Inevera, always twisting others to their wishes. Jardir saw the
khaffit's
eyes flick to her, just for an instant, drinking of his wife's wantonly displayed beauty. He swallowed a flare of anger. Inevera said it should make him feel powerful to flaunt something other men coveted, but even after two years the opposite still held true.

But like it or not, both Abban and Inevera had skills Jardir needed, skills that the
dama
and
Sharum
sorely lacked. Abban's tallies and Inevera's dice gave only brutal truth, while every other man in Krasia fell over himself to say only what they thought Jardir wished to hear, even if the words held no truth at all.

Jardir had grown to depend on them, and both knew it, continuing to dress outlandishly, adorned with golden trinkets, as if daring Jardir to punish them.

'Damaji Enkaji is powerful, Deliverer,' Abban reminded him, 'and his tribe's engineering skills are essential to your preparations for war. You already slight him by denying him a place in your inner council. Perhaps now is not the time to follow a trail that may lead to him and force you to act publicly.'

'Savas is not yet old enough to become
Damaji
of the Mehnding,' Inevera added, speaking of Jardir's Mehnding son. 'They will not follow a boy still in his bido.'

They were right. If Jardir killed Enkaji before Savas earned the white robe, the black turban would simply pass on to one of Enjaki's sons, who would bear Jardir the same animosity their father did, if not more.

'Very well,' he said at last, though it sickened him to play Inevera and Abban's games. 'Spin your web over Qavan. Now on to the tallies.'

'As of this morning, there are 217
dama,
322
dama'ting,
5,012
Sharum,
17,256 women, 15,623 children, including those in
Hannu Pash,
and 21,733
khaffit
living in the Desert Spear,' Abban said.

'That isn't enough warriors if we are to march in another summer,' Jardir said. 'Only a few hundred come out of
Hannu Pash
each year.'

'Perhaps you should delay your plans,' Abban suggested. 'In a decade, you could double your forces.'

Jardir felt Inevera's hand squeeze his leg, her long nails digging into flesh, and shook his head. 'We delay too long as it is.'

Abban shrugged. 'Then you will have to march with the warriors you have next year. Not six thousand.'

'I need more,' Jardir insisted.

Abban shrugged. 'What can I do' It's not as if
dal'Sharum
are stores of grain hidden in the bazaar, with merchants waiting for the price to go up before bringing them out.'

Jardir looked at him so sharply that Abban flinched.

'Something I said'' he asked.

'The bazaar,' Jardir said. 'I haven't been there since the day Kaval and Qeran took us from our homes.' He stood up, drawing a white outer robe over the
Sharum
blacks he still wore. 'Show it to me now.'

'Me'' Abban asked. 'You wish to walk the street next to a
khaffit
''

'Is there anyone better suited'' Jardir asked. Everyone else in the room turned to stare at Jardir in horror.

'Deliverer,' Ashan protested, 'the bazaar is a place for women and
khaffit'
'

Aleverak nodded. 'That ground is not worthy of the Shar'Dama Ka's feet.'

'I will decide that,' Jardir said. 'Perhaps there is yet some worthiness to be found there.'

Ashan frowned, but he bowed. 'Of course, Deliverer. I will prepare your bodyguard. A hundred loyal
Sharum'
'

'No bodyguard is necessary,' Jardir cut in. 'I can protect myself from women and
khaffit.
'

Inevera stood, helping Jardir arrange his robes. 'At least let me throw the dice first,' she whispered. 'You will draw assassins like a dung cart draws flies.'

Jardir shook his head. 'Not this time,
jiwah.
I feel Everam's hand today without that crutch.'

Inevera did not seem convinced, but she stepped aside.

A weight lifted off Jardir as he strode from the palace. He could not remember the last time he had left its walls in daylight. He had loved the feel of the sun, once. His back straightened as he walked, and something in Jardir'hummed. He felt a rightness to his actions, as if Everam Himself guided them.

Time seemed to stop as Jardir and Abban walked through the Great Bazaar, merchants and customers alike freezing in place as they passed. Some stared in wonder at the Deliverer, and others stared in greater shock at the
khaffit
by his side. Whispers grew in their wake, and many began to drift after them.

The bazaar ran along the lee side of the city's inner wall for miles to either side of the great gate. Seemingly endless tents and carts, great pavilions and tiny kiosks were arrayed, not to mention countless roving food and trinket vendors, porters to carry purchases, and great crowds of shoppers, haggling for bargains.

'It's bigger than I remember,' Jardir said in surprise. 'So many twists and turns. The Maze seems less daunting.'

'It is said no man may walk so far as to pass every vendor in a single day,' Abban said, 'and more than one fool has been left trying to find their way clear of it when the
dama
sound the curfew from the minarets of Sharik Hora.'

'So many
khaffit,
' Jardir said in wonder, looking out at a sea of shaved faces and tan vests. 'Even though I hear them in the tallies every morning, the number never truly struck me. You outnumber everyone else in Krasia.'

'There are benefits to being denied the Maze,' Abban said. 'Long life is one of them.'

Jardir nodded. Another thing he had never considered before. 'Does your heart ever miss it' Beneath the cowardice, do you ever wish you had seen the inside of the Maze''

Abban limped quietly for a long time. 'What does it matter'' he asked at last. 'It was not meant to be.'

They walked a bit farther, when Jardir stopped suddenly, staring. Across the street stood a giant
khaffit,
easily seven feet tall and rippling with muscle under his tan vest and cap. He had a huge barrel of water slung under each long arm, seeming no more strained than if he were holding a pair of sandals.

'You there!' Jardir called, but the giant did not reply. Jardir strode across the street to him, grabbing him by the arm. The
khaffit
turned suddenly, startled, and nearly dropped the water barrels before he caught himself. 'I called to you,
khaffit,
' Jardir growled.

Abban put a hand on Jardir's arm. 'He did not hear you, Deliverer. The man was born without hearing.' Indeed, the giant was moaning and pointing frantically toward his ears. Abban made a few quick gestures with his hands that calmed him.

'Deaf'' Jardir asked. 'Did that cause him to fail at
Hannu Pash
''

Abban laughed. 'Children with such faults are never called to
Hannu Pash
in the first place, Deliverer. This man was
khaffit
the moment he was born.'

Another
khaffit,
a fit-looking man of some thirty-five years, came out of a booth, stopping short in shock at the sight of them.

'Hold,' Jardir commanded as the man tried to escape. Immediately the
khaffit
fell to his knees, pressing his face into the dirt.