Ahmann was her only concern. Making sure he was safe, and ready to grasp at power when it passed his way. Planting the seeds of that power. If he was allowed to come into his full, all the politics in Krasia would be obsolete. And if not, her people would destroy themselves in a generation.
But today, with his veiling, matters had changed. So long as he slept in Sharik Hora, Ahmann had been protected. Few had known he was even there, and there was no alagai’sharak beneath the temple of bones; no rival who would strike at him.
But now he was kai’Sharum and would lead men into nightly battle. She feared little for his safety against the alagai, but with his skill and prowess, he would quickly come to the notice of the other kai’Sharum and the Sharum Ka. The dama might not — yet — fear so promising a warrior, trained as one of their own, but the more powerful Sharum would see him as a threat to their status. Sharum did not do their business with poison and hidden knives, but at any sign of weakness they would challenge him like wolves.
She needed to be by his side, to cast for him daily and keep death at bay. Krasia needed him, and he needed her. The Deliverer could not go unbridled.
— Make him a man-
The words had echoed in her mind as she pressured him into betrothal, and the thrill she felt upon his acceptance was not all in duty to Everam. Illiterate and barely more than a savage just a few short years ago, Jardir could now debate tactics, strategy, and philosophy with the wisest dama, and break any that faced him in sharusahk.
And he was handsome. All those hours spent watching him in his bido as he grew into manhood had put a longing in her. She ached to unwrap her bido weave for the last time on their wedding night and never tie the cursed thing again.
Inevera reached Kenevah’s chamber and saw Enkido standing watch without. The Sharum eunuch had a touch of grey in his hair now, but he was still strong and dangerous, the only man in the world privy to the fighting secrets of the Kaji dama’ting. He allowed women to defeat him at practice to show how a move should be correctly applied, but Inevera had watched him closely, seeing how he was always in control. Any dama’ting who underestimated Enkido was a fool.
She signalled him in the secret hand code of eunuchs, her nimble fingers speaking quickly, her stance conveying respect but not deference.
He was still a eunuch, after all.
I must speak with the Damaji’ting, her hands said.
Enkido bowed. I will inform her, mistress, his hands replied. He knocked at the door, and entered upon a call from Kenevah. A moment later he re-emerged.
The Damaji’ting bids you wait here in the vestibule. He gestured towards a silken divan. May I provide you some refreshment?
Inevera shook her head, dismissing him with a whisk of her hand. The eunuch resumed his marble-like stance outside Kenevah’s door. Inevera was left waiting — in comfort, but full view of any passerby — for almost an hour.
Inevera gritted her teeth. More useless tea politics. Kenevah was not in audience with anyone. She was simply making Inevera wait, publicly, to illustrate that she could.
At last there was a ringing of bells, and Enkido signalled her to enter. Inevera moved through the portal, and the eunuch closed it behind her. Inevera bowed deeply. The Damaji’ting’s office windows were covered in thick velvet curtains, allowing no natural light. Wardlight kept the room aglow.
‘You do not often grace my doorway, little sister.’ Kenevah regarded her with unreadable eyes.
‘There have been pressing matters to attend, Damaji’ting,’ Inevera said, ‘and your time is too valuable to waste.’
‘Pressing matters,’ Kenevah grunted. ‘May I ask what those are? Your skills are second to none, and yet you spend little time in the palace, or at court. Even in the healing pavilion, you give only the time required of you and not an instant more. My informants have spotted you all over the city, even in territory controlled by other tribes.’
I’ve been blooding boys, searching for more like Ahmann, Inevera thought.
— Deliverers are made, not born-
She shrugged. ‘I would know the Desert Spear and its people, that I might better serve them.’
‘It gives poor appearances,’ Kenevah said, ‘and it is dangerous to set foot in the territory of other dama’ting.’
‘More dangerous than walking these very halls?’ Inevera asked.
Kenevah pursed her lips. It was not a signal that she had ordered the attempts on Inevera’s life, but it was a clear sign that she was aware of them. ‘If my time is so precious, what brings you to me now?’
Inevera bowed. ‘I have decided to marry.’
Kenevah raised an eyebrow at that. ‘Have you, now? And who is this fortunate dama? Khevat, perhaps? Or will you marry Baden, since you seem to have no real interest in male company?’
Inevera’s throat tightened. Kenevah did indeed have spies everywhere, but how much had she guessed? Her spell to restore her maidenhead was likely still a secret, but Inevera could not hide the fact that no eunuchs were allowed in her chamber save those too old to use their spears. Nie’dama’ting did most of her attendance. It had given her a reputation for liking young girls abed.
‘It is not a cleric, Damaji’ting,’ Inevera said. ‘He is Sharum.’
‘Sharum?’ Kenevah asked in surprise. ‘Curiouser still. The boy you had shuttled into Sharik Hora?’
For an instant Inevera’s dama’ting calm slipped, and she feared her eyes had told Kenevah much when the old woman laughed. ‘Do you think me a fool, girl? Even if you hadn’t caused one holy stench in the Kaji palace after refusing the boy the black, your hours spent haunting the catacombs to observe his training were obvious to all.’
Kenevah held up her hand, holding an ancient set of dice. ‘And I have bones of my own.’
Inevera’s fingers itched to reach for her hora pouch. Her most powerful bones could send a blast of magic at the old woman, killing her instantly. Black veil or no, with no other called by the dice, Inevera could immediately lay claim to the Damaji’ting’s throne, though she would likely have to kill Qeva and a few others to hold it.
I have bones of my own, Kenevah said. It was a reminder of her ability to foretell, but a threat as well. Inevera had a handful of hora she had collected since taking the veil. Kenevah likely had hundreds. No doubt she was protected in ways Inevera could not see, and a failed assassination attempt could have only one result.
She relaxed, and Kenevah nodded, slipping her dice back into their pouch. ‘You did not consult me on the match.’
‘I consulted the dice,’ Inevera replied.
A flash of anger crossed Kenevah’s eyes, though it never touched her face. ‘You did not consult me. What if you read the dice wrong? No Damaji’ting has married in a thousand years. Everam is our husband. Do you truly have no interest in my office?’
‘There is nothing in the Evejah’ting that says I cannot take the black headscarf if I marry,’ Inevera said. ‘That it is rare is irrelevant. The dice have instructed me to bear him sons, and I shall, in accordance with Evejan law.’