Kenevah proved more formidable than expected, but the outcome was not in doubt as Inevera ceased giving the Damaji’ting energy to steal and instead pitted muscle against muscle in a slow push until she achieved the desired hold. Seconds later she popped one of Kenevah’s hips from the socket. The Damaji’ting’s howl was cut short as Inevera worked her way around, wrapping her legs tightly about Kenevah’s waist and reaching for the black veil that should have been hers long ago. She found it and pulled it tight around Kenevah’s throat, holding the Damaji’ting prone as her face reddened and seemed to inflate. Soon the old woman’s struggles ceased. Inevera held on a bit longer, then eased her grip and untied the silk.
She was holding the black hood and veil when the doors exploded in a blast of magic and Qeva and Enkido stepped in, followed by a dozen women, dama’ting and nie alike.
Qeva took in the destruction with horror in her eyes. Most of the flames had died out, but the room was filled with wreckage, charred and smoking. She took in the still form of her mother on the floor, stripped of her veil, and turned to Inevera with murder in her eyes.
‘Kenevah was old and weak,’ Inevera said loudly. ‘It is time the black hood passed on.’
‘How dare you?’ Qeva demanded. Killing a Damaji’ting to open a succession was certainly not without precedent, but to do it so openly was unheard of. ‘My mother and I taught you everything you know. For you to betray her after we took you in …’
Inevera laughed. ‘Took me in? I was not some beggar on the street or nie’ting. Do not reweave history to make yourself my saviour. You dragged me from my mother’s arms without a word and threw me in a pit where your own daughter tried to kill me.’ Melan was in the crowd, her clawed hand unmistakable. Inevera met her eyes, daring her to contradict.
‘And when I did not turn out as she wished,’ Inevera went on, ‘Kenevah tried to have me killed. Seven times, the dice tell me. I at least gave her the courtesy of doing it face-to-face.’
‘You lie,’ Qeva growled.
Inevera shook her head. ‘Why would I lie when my words are irrelevant? I am the only one the dice have called to succeed Kenevah. While I live, the Kaji dama’ting are mine.’
‘If you live,’ Qeva corrected, moving forward into a sharusahk stance. As she came out of the shadowed alcove, sunlight struck the hora she had used to blast open the doors, and the bone exploded in her hand. Qeva shrieked, and her concentration was lost as the concussion knocked her from her feet.
Inevera moved swiftly to finish her while she was distracted. A quick kill, and then only Melan could make a claim against her.
But Enkido stepped between them, delivering a camel kick that sent Inevera sprawling across the room.
‘Kill her!’ Qeva commanded as Inevera struggled to her feet.
‘You would have a eunuch settle who leads the women of our tribe?’ Inevera asked loudly. As she’d hoped, all eyes snapped to Qeva for her response. In that moment she slipped her hand into her hora pouch, clutching a bit of warded bone tightly in her fist, careful that no light should strike it.
‘You are not worthy to lead if you cannot defeat Enkido,’ Qeva growled. ‘My mother made him to be her spear beyond the grave.’
Inevera had no time for a retort as Enkido came in fast and hard, his sharusahk like nothing she had ever seen. The size and ferocity of a Sharum, the grace of a dama, and the precision of a dama’ting. She had never once sensed anger in the man, but it radiated from him now.
All Sharum must avenge the death of their dama master, even if it mean their death, the Evejah taught, and Kenevah had been no less his master for being a woman. She had mutilated him, crippled him, but Enkido loved sharusahk above all, and she had given him that to his heart’s content. Enkido came at Inevera with everything he had, and — she had to admit — without the aid of magic he would have been the end of her.
But the warded bit of demon bone in her hand pumped raw magic up her arm, flooding her limbs with strength and speed beyond anything mere flesh and bone could duplicate. She could sense Enkido’s confusion as his first strike missed and she jabbed stiffened fingers at his kidney.
It should have been a telling blow, but it was her turn to be surprised. Enkido was armoured. Her fingers struck one of the hard ceramic plates Sharum wore sewn into their robes in the Maze. She felt it shatter on impact, but the force of her blow went with it, leaving her fingers aching.
She managed to evade his return strike, barely, but he reversed again, catching her with a backhand blow to the face that cracked her head back like a whip. His following kick broke ribs and sent her crashing into Kenevah’s burning desk, which collapsed under her weight. There was a collective gasp from the crowd gathering in the office, encircling them.
Inevera had to strain to keep her fist tight and not lose the hora stone as she absorbed the impact, tucking into a ball and using some of the energy to roll to her feet past the wreckage. Enkido came on, but she had firm footing, and did not underestimate him again.
Back and forth they paced, Enkido striking and missing, Inevera landing quick blows in return that were largely shrugged off or turned by his armour. Both were wary now, and gave no real openings, no free energy. Inevera glanced at Qeva, waiting patiently just inside the ring of women around their battle, fresh and ready to take up where Enkido left off, should he be defeated.
And she would have hora of her own.
Enkido came at her with wilting flower, and Inevera could have slipped away, but on impulse she let the blow strike home. Her leg collapsed and Enkido pounced to take advantage, but Inevera drew on the power of the demon bone, restoring strength to her wilted limb. She came up at him hard, jabbing fingers into a space between his armour plates and causing him to clench his abdomen reflexively. While he was bent she landed several precise strikes to the lines of power in his neck and shoulder, then broke his knee with a hard stomp.
The eunuch did not cry out as he fell to the ground, even as much as a tongueless man might. He struggled to rise again, but though the strain showed in his brow, his remaining limbs would not obey. He calmed then, breathing deeply and looking up at her with quiet dignity, unafraid as he waited for her to finish him.
But Inevera had no interest in killing the eunuch. ‘You have honoured your mistress, Sharum, but Everam still has a plan for you.’ She felt the hora in her hands crumble into dust, drained, and wondered if she would regret the mercy. She was already labouring for breath, coughing in the smoky air.
Qeva took a sharusahk stance, but Inevera did not respond in kind.
‘Are we blind dama, following the most skilled fighter?’ Inevera asked the assembled women. ‘The Evejah’ting gave us the alagai hora that we might never descend into such savagery.’
She looked at Qeva. ‘It was you who first cast the bones for me. You who pulled me in when you could easily have turned me away. Why? What did you see?’
‘Your future was hidden,’ Qeva said. ‘It was that, my mother told me to seek.’
Inevera nodded. She had known as much. ‘It is hidden no longer. Cast the bones again. Now, in the Chamber of Shadows for all to see.’
Qeva’s eyes widened at that, then narrowed, sensing a trap. A frantic whispering broke out among the surrounding women, and it closed on her.