‘When she sees your face tomorrow, I think Dama’ting Qeva will lift your banishment,’ Inevera said, holding up her new hora pouch. ‘We will enter the Chamber of Shadows together. And I will finish my dice before you.’
8
Do Not Bend
302 — 305 AR
Inevera waited nervously in the dama’ting pavilion, her breath fogging in the bitter cold. Qeva was there, as well as three other Brides, seven Betrothed, and four eunuchs, including the powerful Enkido. The eunuchs were dressed in full Sharum blacks, night-veiled with spear and shield. Under their robes was linked armour of dama’ting craft, enough to turn even a demon’s bite.
But despite the powerful gathering in a familiar space, Inevera shifted her feet nervously. It was deep in the night, and they were on the surface. Evejan law forbade this, even for Brides of Everam, but Qeva and the others stood chatting among themselves as easily as if they stood in the Dama’ting Underpalace. Inevera knew logically the chances of alagai passing the Sharum in the Maze and breaching the great wall was minimal at best — and in truth closer to infinitesimal — but still her heart thudded in her chest.
Fear and pain are only wind, she reminded herself, picturing the palm and finding her centre.
Standing by the tent flap, mute Enkido raised a hand and made a quick series of gestures with his fingers.
‘Oot!’ Qeva said. ‘They come.’
Everyone quieted, and the Brides moved to stand in front, Qeva at their lead. She nodded to Enkido as he opened the tent flap.
Half a dozen Sharum approached the pavilion, one of them leading a camel with feet wrapped in thick black cloth. There was black cloth over its body as well, and wrapped around the wheels of the large cart it pulled.
Their blacks were dusty from the Maze, with fresh dents in their armour and ichor splattering their heavy shields. One walked with a slight limp, and another had a blood-soaked cloth tied around one thick arm. The Sharum all had their night veils in place, but Inevera recognized them immediately by their sleeveless uniforms with breastplates of blackened steel emblazoned with the golden sunburst of Dama Baden. Even without his characteristic swagger and white kai’Sharum veil Inevera would have recognized Cashiv, and even more so the man beside him. His ajin’pal.
Soli.
She had not seen her brother in years, but she knew him instantly even behind his veil. His eyes had the twinkle of her brother’s easy smile, and she knew his walk, his stance, and his muscular arms as well as she knew her own. She suppressed a gasp, but could not help staring.
Next to her, Melan snorted. ‘You have as much chance there, bad throw, as you do in beating me to the veil. Those are push’ting. Man lovers. There are said to be none finer in battle than Dama Baden’s Sharum, but they would sooner bed a goat than you.’
Asavi snickered. ‘And be better for it.’
‘Silence!’ Qeva hissed.
Cashiv and the other Sharum came before the dama’ting and bowed deeply. As they did, Soli’s eyes passed over Inevera, but though her face was bare, there was no recognition in the dim light.
‘Rise, honoured Sharum,’ Qeva said. ‘The blessing of Everam be upon you.’
Cashiv and the others straightened. ‘Everam is great. All honour and glory begins and ends with Him. Our lives belong to Him and his sacred Brides. It is the first night of Waning after winter solstice. We have come to deliver Dama Baden’s tithe.’
Qeva nodded. ‘Your sacrifice in blood does not go unnoticed by Everam, or his Brides. What gift have you brought?’
Cashiv bowed again. ‘Twenty-nine alagai, Dama’ting.’
Qeva raised an eyebrow. ‘Twenty-nine? This is not a holy number.’
Cashiv bowed again. ‘Of course the dama’ting is correct. Twenty-eight is the traditional tithe; seven sand demons, seven clay, seven flame, and seven wind. One each of the common breeds for every pillar of Heaven.’ He paused, his eyes sparkling with amusement. ‘But Dama Baden is grateful for the blessings of the dama’ting, and commanded us to lay a special trap. To honour the one Creator, we have also brought a single water demon.’
Several of the nie’dama’ting gasped. The Brides showed no obvious sign, but Inevera could read the shift in their stances as easily as if they were shouting in elation. Water demons were beyond rare in Krasia, and there were spells that could only be made from their bones. The spell to create water alone could be accomplished with a fraction of the hora.
‘Everam is pleased with your gift to honour Him,’ Qeva said. ‘How did you accomplish this?’
‘Dama Baden had us wall off a section of the Maze, removing the wards and breaking the sandstone floor that prevents alagai rising. We dug a deep pool, which the dama filled with water from his own stores, and seeded with fish and other life. It took many months, but at last, the bait was taken and a water demon took residence there. It killed one of my men and injured two others as we hauled it out in the nets this night, surviving far longer than we expected in the night air. It eventually died of suffocation, and is otherwise intact.’
The dama’ting exchanged a glance. The cost of this endeavour was not lost to them. The water alone was a Damaji’s ransom — tainted now and useless. It spoke of Dama Baden’s incredible wealth … and of a favour he sought.
Dama Baden did nothing for free.
‘This gift pleases us greatly, Cashiv asu Avram am’Goshin am’Kaji. Your honour, and that of your men, is boundless. The pleasures of Heaven will be yours forever when you pass from this life. Bring forth your wounded.’
The two most heavily wounded men stepped forth, and there was no hesitation as the dama’ting warded the skin about their injuries and drew forth small bits of hora to effect magical healing. The other men had only superficial scrapes and burns the Brides treated with more conventional means.
When it was done, Qeva turned back to the Sharum. ‘Bring the gifts into the Rendering Chamber.’
Moving with the assuredness of men who had been this way many times, Cashiv and the others began unloading alagai corpses from the cart and carrying them down through a trapdoor Inevera had never seen before, right in the entrance hall. Large punctures in the chests of the sand and wind demons told of death by stingers — arrows the size of spears, launched from wooden scorpions atop the walls. The armour of the clay demons was crushed by heavy stones dropped into demon pits. The smell of rank ichor was nauseating.
The flame demons — drowned in shallow pools — were unmarked, as was the water demon, a slimy mass of horned tentacles and sharp scales. Its mouth was enormous for its body, with row upon row of wicked teeth.
When it was done, Qeva gestured and Cashiv came to kneel before her. ‘Four questions,’ Qeva said, ‘and a boon.’
Cashiv nodded. ‘Thank you, Dama’ting. I humbly accept this gift, though we are yours to command, and act only to bring glory to Everam, not from thought of reward.’ His words had the ring of practice, more a chant than speech. Inevera understood that this meeting likely played out every year, a business transaction that had become ritual. The way everyone smoothly gathered into a ring around the scene spoke of it as well.