The Desert Spear (8 page)

'Drillmaster,' he said, 'this is not
alagai'sharak
as we were taught it.'

Kaval laughed. 'This is not
alagai'sharak
at all, boy, just a game to keep our spears sharp. The Evejah commands that
alagai'sharak
only be fought on prepared ground. There are no demon pits here, no maze walls or ambush pockets. We would be fools to leave our circle, but that is no reason why we cannot show a few
alagai
the sun.'

Jardir bowed again. 'Thank you, Drillmaster. I understand now.'

The game went on for hours more, until the remaining demons decided there was no gap in the wards and began to circle the camp or sat back on their haunches out of spear's reach, watching. The warriors with full stomachs then went to take watch, hooting and catcalling at those who had failed to make a kill as they went to their meal.

After all had eaten, half the warriors went to their bedrolls, and the other half stood like statues in a ring around the camp. After a few hours' sleep, the warriors relieved their brothers.

The next day, they passed through a
khaffit
village. Jardir had never seen one before, though there were many small oases in the desert, mostly to the south and east of the city, where a trickle of water sprouted from the ground and filled a small pool.
Khaffit
who had fled the city would often cluster at these, but so long as they fed themselves and did not beg at the city wall or prey on passing merchants, the
dama
were content to ignore them.

There were larger oases, as well, where a large pool meant a hundred or more
khaffit
might gather, often with women and children in tow. These the
dama
did pay some mind to, with the warrior tribes claiming individual oases as they did the wells of the city, taxing the
khaffit
in labor and goods for the right to live there.
Dama
would occasionally travel to the villages closest to the city, taking any young boys to
Hannu Pash
and the most beautiful girls as
jiwah'Sharum
for the great harems.

The village they passed through had no wall, just a series of sandstone monoliths around its perimeter with ancient wards cut deep into the stone. 'What is this place'' Jardir wondered aloud as they marched.

'They call the village Sandstone,' Abban said. 'Over three hundred
khaffit
live here. They are known as pit dogs.'

'Pit dogs'' Jardir asked.

Abban pointed to a giant pit in the ground, one of several in the village, where men and women toiled together, harvesting sandstone with shovel, pick, and saw. The folk were broad of shoulder and packed with muscle, quite unlike the
khaffit
Jardir knew from the city. Children worked alongside them, loading carts and leading the camels that hauled the stone up out of the pits. All wore tan clothes'man and boy alike in vest and cap, and the women and girls in tan dresses that left little to the imagination, their faces, arms, and even legs mostly uncovered.

'These are strong people,' Jardir said. 'By what rule are these men
khaffit
' Are they all cowards' What about the girls and boys' Why are they not called to marriage or
Hannu Pash
''

'Their ancestors were
khaffit
by their own failing, perhaps, my friend,' Abban said, 'but these people are
khaffit
by birth.'

'I don't understand,' Jardir said. 'There are no
khaffit
by birth.'

Abban sighed. 'You say all I think of is merchanting, but perhaps it is you who does not think of it enough. The
Damaji
want the stone these people harvest, and a healthy stock to do the work. In exchange, they instruct the
dama
not to come for the
khaffit's
children.'

'Condemning the children to spending their lives as
khaffit,
as well,' Jardir said. 'Why would their parents want that''

'Parents can behave strangely when men come to take their children,' Abban said.

Jardir remembered his mother's tears, and the shrieks of Abban's mother, and could not disagree. 'Still, these men would make fine warriors, and their women fine wives who breed strong sons. It is a waste to see them squandered so.'

Abban shrugged. 'At least when one of them is injured, his brothers don't turn on him like a pack of wolves.'

It was another six days of travel before they reached the cliff face overlooking the river that fed the village of Baha kad'Everam. They encountered no more
khaffit
villages along the way. Abban, whose family traded with many of the villages, said it was because an underground river fed many oases near the city, but it did not stretch so far east. Most of the villages were south of the city, between the Desert Spear and the distant southern mountains, along the path of that river. Jardir had never heard of a river underground, but he trusted his friend.

The river before them was not precisely underground, but it had eroded a deep valley over time, cutting through countless layers of sandstone and clay. They could see its bed far below, though the water seemed only a trickle from such a height.

They marched south along the cliff until the path leading down to the village came into sight, invisible until they were almost on top of it. The
dal'Sharum
blew horns of greeting, but there was no response as they made their way down the steep, narrow road to the village square. Even there in the center of town, there were no inhabitants to be found.

The village of Baha kad'Everam was built in tiers cut into the cliff face. A wide, uneven stair led up in zigzag, forming a terrace for the adobe buildings on each level. There were no signs of life in the village, and cloth door flaps drifted lazily in the breeze. It reminded Jardir of some of the older parts of the Desert Spear; large parts of the city were abandoned as the population dwindled. The ancient buildings were a testament to when Krasians were numberless.

'What happened here'' Jardir wondered aloud.

'Isn't it obvious'' Abban asked. Jardir looked at him curiously.

'Stop staring at the village and take a wider look,' Abban said. Jardir turned and saw that the river had not appeared to be a trickle merely because of a trick of height. The waters hardly reached a third of the way up the deep bed.

'Not enough rain,' Abban said, 'or a diversion of the water's path upriver. The change likely robbed the Bahavans of the fish they depended on to survive.'

'That wouldn't explain the death of a whole village,' Jardir said.

Abban shrugged. 'Perhaps the water turned sour as it shallowed, picking up silt from the riverbed. Either way, by sickness or hunger, the Bahavans must not have been able to maintain their wards.' He gestured to the deep claw marks in the adobe walls of some of the buildings.

Kaval turned to Jardir. 'Search the village for signs of survivors,' he said. Jardir bowed and turned to his
nie'Sharum,
breaking them into groups of two and sending each to a different level. The boys darted up the uneven stairs as easily as they ran the walltops of the Maze.

It quickly became apparent that Abban had been right. There were signs of demons in almost every building, claw marks on walls and furniture and signs of struggle everywhere.

'No bodies, though,' Abban noted.

'Eaten,' Jardir said, pointing to what appeared to be black stone with a few bits of white sticking from it, sitting on the floor.

'What's that'' Abban asked.

'Demon dung,' Jardir said. '
Alagai
eat their victims whole and shit out the bones.' Abban slapped a hand to his mouth, but it was not enough. He ran to the side of the room to retch.

They reported their findings to Drillmaster Kaval, who nodded as if this were no surprise. 'Walk at my back,
Nie Ka,
' he said, and Jardir followed him as the drillmaster walked over to where Dama Khevat stood with the
kai'Sharum.

'The
nie'Sharum
confirm there are no survivors, Dama,' Kaval said. The
kai'Sharum
outranked him, but Kaval was a drillmaster and had likely trained every warrior on the expedition, including the
kai'Sharum.
As it was said,
The words of the red veil carry more weight than the white.

Dama Khevat nodded. 'The
alagai
cursed the ground when they broke through the wards, trapping the spirits of the dead
khaffit
in this world. I can feel their screams in the air.' He looked up at Kaval. 'A Waning is upon us. We will spend the first two days and nights preparing the village and praying.'

'And on the third night of Waning'' Kaval asked.

'On the third night, we will dance
alagai'sharak,
' Khevat said, 'to hallow the ground and set their spirits free, that they might be reincarnated in hope of a better caste.'

Kaval bowed. 'Of course, Dama.' He looked up at the stairs and buildings built into the cliff face, and the wide courtyard beneath leading down to the riverbank. 'It will be mostly clay demons here,' he guessed, 'though likely a few wind and sand as well.' He turned to the
kai'Sharum.
'With your permission, I will have the
dal'Sharum
dig warded demon pits in the courtyard, and set ambush points on the stairs to drive the
alagai
off the cliff and into the pits to await the sun.'

The
kai'Sharum
nodded, and the drillmaster turned to Jardir. 'Set the
nie'Sharum
to clearing the buildings of any debris we can make into barricades.' Jardir nodded and turned to go, but Kaval caught his arm. 'See that they loot nothing,' he warned. 'All must go as sacrifice to
alagai'sharak.
'

'You and I will clear the first level,' Jardir told Abban.

'Seven is a luckier number,' Abban said. 'Let Jurim and Shanjat clear the first.'

Jardir looked at Abban's leg skeptically. Abban had managed to keep up with the march, but his limp had not gone away, and Jardir often saw him massaging the limb when he thought no one was watching.

'I thought the first would be an easier ascent, with your leg not fully healed,' Jardir said.

Abban put his hands on his hips. 'My friend, you wound me!' he said. 'I am fit as the finest camel in the bazaar. You were right to push me to exceed myself each day, and a climb to the seventh level will only help.'

Jardir shrugged. 'As you wish,' he said, and they set off climbing the steps after he had given instructions to the other
nie'Sharum.

The irregular stone steps of Baha were cut into the cliff face, shored at key points with sandstone and clay. They were sometimes as narrow as a man's foot, and other times required many paces to the next step. Worn stone showed the passage of many laden wagons pulled by beasts of burden. The steps changed direction with each tier, branching off a path to the buildings of that level.

They had not gone far before Abban's breath labored, his round face beading with sweat. His limp grew worse, and by the fifth level he was hissing in pain with every step.

'Perhaps we've gone far enough for one day,' Jardir ventured.

'Nonsense, my friend,' Abban said. 'I am'' he groaned and blew out a breath, ''strong as a camel.'

Jardir smiled and slapped him on the back. 'We'll make a warrior of you yet.'

They reached the seventh level at last, and Jardir turned to look out over the low wall. Far below, the
dal'Sharum
bent their backs, digging wide demon pits with short spades. The pits were set right at the edge of the first tier, so that a demon hurled from the very wall Jardir looked over would land within. Jardir felt a flash of excitement for the battle to come, even though he and the other
nie'Sharum
would not be allowed to fight.

He turned to Abban, but his friend had moved on down the terrace, ignoring the view.

'We should start clearing the buildings,' Jardir said, but Abban seemed not to hear, limping purposefully away. Jardir caught up just as Abban stopped in front of a great archway, breaking into a wide smile as he looked up at the symbols carved into the arch.

'Level seven, I knew it!' Abban said. 'The same as the number of pillars between Heaven and Ala.'

'I've never seen wards like those,' Jardir said, looking at the symbols.

'Those aren't wards, they are drawn words,' Abban said.

Jardir looked at him curiously. 'Like those written in the Evejah''

Abban nodded. 'They read: 'Here, seven tiers from Ala to honor He who is Everything, is the humble workshop of Master Dravazi.' '

'The potter you spoke of,' Jardir growled. Abban nodded, moving to push back the bright curtain that hung in the doorway, but Jardir grabbed his arm, pulling Abban to face him.

'So you can embrace pain when it comes to profit, but not to honor'' he demanded.

Abban smiled. 'I am merely practical, my friend. You cannot spend honor.'

'You can in Heaven,' Jardir said.

Abban snorted. 'We cannot clothe our mothers and sisters from Heaven.' He pulled his arm free and entered the shop. Jardir had no choice but to follow, walking right into Abban, who had stopped short just within the doorway, his mouth hanging open.

'The shipment is intact,' Abban whispered, his eyes taking on a covetous gleam. Jardir followed his gaze, and his own eyes widened as well. There, stacked neatly upon great pallets, was the most exquisite pottery he had ever seen. It filled the room'pots and vases and chalices, lamps and plates and bowls. All of it painted in bright color and gold leaf, fire-glazed to a pristine shine.