“Leesha said she’d be obliged, if you had advice on it,” Renna said.
“Who leads them?” Jardir asked.
“Jarit,” Renna said.
Jardir nodded. “Kaval’s Jiwah Ka. I have looked into her soul, and it is pure. She has done well in holding her people together. I will speak of her to Inevera. She will need to send dama’ting to the Hollow, and Sharum to escort and guard them. Our brothers and sisters in the Gatherers’ Wood will not be forgotten.”
“There’s more,” Renna said, producing the letter. “Leesha asked me to give this to you.”
Jardir’s eyes widened, and he took the paper, immediately bringing it to his nose and inhaling. “Thank you, Renna jiwah Arlen am’Bales am’Brook.” He bowed once, then quickly left the room.
Renna shook her head. “Talkin’ about his wife in one breath, and inhalin’ Leesha’s perfume with the next.”
“We do not see marriage as you greenlanders do,” Shanvah said. “The Evejah tells us love is boundless. It does not dishonor the Damajah to share. A portion of infinity remains infinite.”
“That go both ways?” Renna asked. “Love infinite enough for a woman to have two husbands?”
“Got someone in mind?” Arlen asked.
Shanvah said nothing, but her face made it clear she was scandalized at the very notion.
“Thought not,” Renna said.
—
Renna watched as Ragen rode Twilight Dancer awkwardly around the practice yard, trying to get a feel for him. He was a big man, and an expert rider, but Dancer was no ordinary horse. He stood a head taller than other mustangs, they in turn giants compared with even the heavy destriers Milnese Messengers favored. Arlen had pondered long and hard, but in the end there had been no one he trusted more to take his precious stallion—his friend—than Ragen, the man who taught him to ride.
Promise was her engagement gift. Their intention had been to breed the horses, expanding their family in more ways than one. Arlen had tears in his eyes when Renna left the tower with the horses. Seeing Wonda approach, Renna understood how he felt. She stroked Promise’s neck, gripping tight to her mane.
The horse seemed to sense her tension, snorting and stamping. Renna laid her head against her, and did not fight her tears. “Come back for you. Swear it by the sun. Wonda’ll be good to you. Ent no woman more suited to ride you while I’m gone.”
Wonda moved confidently as she approached the horse, but Renna caught a hint of fear in her scent. Arlen and Renna’s horses were legends in the Hollow.
“Won’t take a bit or saddle,” Renna said. “Got a harness to hold bags and help you keep your seat, but she ent much for reins. Don’t be afraid to give her mane a good yank, she tries to throw you or go her own way. She can take it.”
Wonda swallowed, but she nodded. “Da used to have a workhorse. Din’t have money for a saddle. Learned to ride bareback.”
“Don’t take any of her demonshit till she learns to respect you,” Renna said, “and you’ll be all right.”
Promise eyed Wonda coolly, but allowed the woman to lay a hand on her neck. Something about the gesture made it real, and the lump in Renna’s throat grew.
“Likes green apples the best,” she choked. “Sour, like her disposition.”
“Buy a barrel of ’em today,” Wonda said.
“Ent too good for honey in her oats, though,” Renna said.
“Got bees right here in the keep.”
Renna couldn’t stand it anymore. She sobbed, giving Promise one last embrace, then fled the yard.
—
“Greatward’s our strongest asset, and worst enemy,” Renna said loudly, pacing the floor of the lecture theater at Gatherers’ Academy. The floor was painted with a miniature greatward, powered by hora stones set around the walls.
Leesha and Wonda stood to the side, observing with crossed arms. Both glowed bright with power, unmistakable to the gathered Children seated around the theater. Renna had guaranteed their safety, but they were taking no chances.
“Remember Arlen floatin’ in the sky?” Renna asked the crowd. “Throwin’ lightning at the demons?”
Several of the Children cheered and applauded. Renna nodded, waiting until it died down. “Remember how he fell?”
There was no applause at that. It had been the Hollow’s darkest hour.
“Wards Draw magic and hold it,” Renna said. “Directing it depending on their shape. But when you’re standing inside the lines,” she stepped onto the greatward on the floor, “you can tap into them by sheer will.” She Drew, and grew brighter and brighter, until some of the observers had to shield their eyes. The point made, she let the power drain back into the symbol.
“Hollow greatwards got power enough to make you feel like the Creator Himself, but we ent built to channel power like that. Not me, not even Arlen Bales. He pulled too much and burned out. Came crashin’ down to the cobbles, broke like an egg.” Renna pointed to Leesha. “Mistress Leesha din’t come runnin’ to put him back together, he wouldn’t’ve made it.”
Leesha acknowledged the words with a nod, a purposeful reminder to the gathering of her power.
“Stela Inn,” Renna called. “Come down here and Draw some power off this ward.”
There was fear in Stela’s aura, but she came, tentatively stepping onto the theater floor.
“Sandals off,” Renna said. “Gonna want to put your wards right on the lines at first.”
Stela kicked off her sandals and stood on one of the thicker lines, closing her eyes.
“Like I taught you,” Renna said. “Draw nice and slow. Careful, not too much.”
Stela’s breathing was even, but her heart was thudding in her chest, trying to contain the pleasure and ecstasy flooding her. “How much is too much?”
“That’s enough for now,” Renna said as Stela’s wards began to glow of their own volition, visible to the unwarded eye. “More, your insides will start to itch. Eyes and throat and nose will dry out, and you’ll have trouble concentratin’. More’n that, you’ll start to ache, and it’ll be hard to think straight. Keep goin’, and you’ll lose control and burn yourself alive.”
“How do I let off the excess?” Stela sounded worried, the fear in her aura reflected in the onlookers.
“Greatward’s pullin’ at it even now,” Renna said. “Only your will keeps it in you. Drain it out slow and steady, like pouring boilin’ water from a kettle.”
Stela shut her eyes, willing the magic to drain away, but she was too eager, pushing the magic from her instead of letting the ward do the work. The powerful greatward greedily drank it in, and Renna had to grab her hand and stop the Draw before the girl was sucked dry.
“Good try,” Renna said. “Go an’ take your seat. Ella Cutter, step down and give it a try.”
She sniffed as the next girl approached. The Wardskins were still eating demon meat, but she didn’t tell them to stop. They’d need the power soon enough.
If she could teach them to control it.
CHAPTER 15
SISTERS RETURN
334 AR
One of Inevera’s many earrings began to vibrate. She ran a finger along the cartilage of her right ear to find it. The second from the top.
The Damajah blew out a breath. At last.
She twisted the ring until the wards aligned and the vibration ceased. “Daughter.”
“Blessings of Everam be upon you, Mother,” Amanvah said. “It is good to hear your voice again.”
“And yours,” Inevera said. “Everam has been watching over you.”
“Perhaps,” Amanvah said. “I return to Everam’s Bounty less than a year after I left, already a widow.”
“It is inevera,” Inevera said. “The dice tell me you bear the son of Jessum’s heir.”
“As does Sikvah,” Amanvah said, “though it is early for us both.”
“All the more reason you return to the fold,” Inevera said. “Sikvah is with you?”
Immediate
ly one of the rings on Inevera’s left ear began to vibrate. “I am here, Damajah,” Sikvah said when Inevera turned it.
“How soon will you return?” The earrings did not work over great distances.
“Another day,” Amanvah said. “Two at the most.”
“I will send an escort,” Inevera said. “Jarvah will lead them. Accept no other.”
“Are things so dire that I cannot trust an escort from my brother?” Amanvah asked.
“So dire, and worse,” Inevera said. “Asome attempted to have Ashia killed in his coup.”
“No!” Sikvah gasped.
“Ashia proved the stronger,” Inevera said, “leaving Asukaji crippled.”
“At least Asome will cease his attempts to force me to marry my cousin,” Amanvah said.
“Perhaps,” Inevera agreed, “but that was your greatest value in his eyes. Do not think he will hesitate to kill you, if it will weaken me.”
“No harm will come to Amanvah while I live, Damajah,” Sikvah said.
“You may find yourself a target as well, niece,” Inevera said. “Ashia has been sent from Everam’s Bounty, and Shanvah has not returned. You are now Sharum’ting Ka.”
There was silence as the words sank in. At last, Amanvah spoke. “Congratulations, sister. Everam’s blessings upon you.”
“I am not worthy,” Sikvah said.
“It is good to be humble before Everam,” Inevera said, “but you are the ranking spear sister now. I have seen you grow, and know your worth.”
“I failed to protect my husband,” Sikvah said. “His blood stains my honor.”
“Nonsense,” Amanvah said. “I was there, sister. There was nothing more you could have done. It is by your skill that we lived to carry his heirs and avenge his death.”
“The dice have spoken,” Inevera said. “Micha and Jarvah will pledge their spears to you when you see them. This is not a mantle you can lay aside, niece. Sharak Ka is nigh, and all must stand when Everam calls.”
“Yes, Damajah,” Sikvah said. “I will strive to be worthy.”
“You already are,” Inevera said.
“Does this mean we may drop the ruse that my sister-wife is some weak dal’ting?” Amanvah asked.
“Immediately,” Inevera said. “Few in the court are fools enough not to have deduced it by now.”
“Good,” Amanvah said. “I will be more comfortable with armor protecting our husband’s heir in her belly.”
“What other news from the Hollow?” Inevera asked. “The baby Mistress Leesha carries?”
Amanvah did not ask how she knew. The girl was wise enough to know her mother’s Sight.
“The child is born,” Amanvah said. “I delivered it personally.”
“So soon?” Inevera could not contain her surprise. “It has been but six moons…”
“Mistress Leesha has been channeling powerful magics,” Amanvah said. “They accelerated the pregnancy. Something my sister-wife and I must be careful of.”
It was a danger, but the furthest thing from Inevera’s mind. This was a development that could change the course of the war.
“And the child?” she demanded. “A boy or a girl?”
—
“Nie’Damaji’ting Amanvah vah Ahmann am’Jardir am’Kaji, firstborn daughter of Shar’Dama Ka and Damajah, Princess of all Krasia,” Dama Jamere called as Amanvah was presented before the Skull Throne.
Amanvah was clad in the white silk of a dama’ting, floating about her like smoke, but clinging enough to her femininity to remind all that she was Inevera’s daughter. Asome still held court in the sun, and the golden light glittered across the electrum wards embroidered on the cloth.
Her white veil had been exchanged for one of black, evidence of what all in attendance already knew. At the tender age of eighteen, she was to take her place as leader of the Kaji dama’ting.
“Kai’Sharum’ting Sikvah vah Hanya am’Jardir am’Kaji,” Jamere went on, “firstborn of Princess Hanya, third sister of Shar’Dama Ka.” Hasik’s name—and the dishonor that came with it—had been stricken, but its absence was a reminder of her father’s crimes.
Still, Sikvah cut an impressive figure, white-veiled in her Sharum blacks. Twin spears crossed on her back in easy reach, harnessed beneath a great rounded shield, all made of indestructible warded glass inlaid with electrum. She moved with predatory grace, glass armor plates in her robes adding bulk to her tiny frame, especially a step behind Amanvah in her thin silk.
“Blessings upon you, sister, cousin,” Asome called from the throne, though his face was sour at the sight of Sikvah clad as a warrior. Inevera watched from her pillowed dais, making no effort to hide her smile.
As the assembled court looked on, the two women knelt, putting their hands on the floor and their foreheads between them. They rolled back in unison, gazing up the seven steps to the dais.
Amanvah touched a finger to her throat, and her words, soft and melodious, echoed throughout the chamber. “We come at the summons of the Skull Throne, honored brother, to take our rightful places in the Deliverer’s Court.”
“The women of the Kaji are in need of your wisdom and leadership, sister.” Asome actually sounded convincing. He glanced to Sikvah. “But I did not summon you, cousin.”
“I did,” Inevera broke in, using her warded jewelry to amplify her voice, much as Amanvah had. Much of her magic was denied in the sunlight, but it was good to remind him that she and the other dama’ting were not entirely powerless. “With the death of your honored wife Ashia, and the disappearance of Shanvah, the white headscarf of Sharum’ting Ka will go to Sikvah.”
Asome scowled, and Baden stepped forth from the assembled Damaji to bow to the Skull Throne. “With respect, Damajah, there is no precedent for this. The Shar’Dama Ka’s honored cousin has killed no alagai in battle. She has not earned the right to carry the spear, much less command Everam’s spear sisters.”
Amanvah looked at him like an insect to crush. “With respect, Damaji, you are not known for walking the night, even now, in the time of shar’dama. Who are you to bear witness to the deeds of my Jiwah Sen in alagai’sharak?”
She swept her gaze over the assembled court, again activating her choker to carry her words to every ear. “On my honor and hope of Heaven, I testify before Everam and the Skull Throne that Sikvah vah Hanya am’Jardir am’Kaji has shown more alagai the sun than any Sharum in Krasia.”
“A preposterous claim.” There were murmurs of agreement to Baden’s words throughout the chamber. “There are Sharum throughout the Deliverer’s army who were fighting and killing alagai fifty years before this girl was born. You dishonor them all with your claim.”
Asome stamped his spear. “Apologize, sister.”
Amanvah raised her eyes to meet her brother’s. “Even you, Shar’Dama Ka, may not command me to bear false witness before the Skull Throne. In trio with our husband, my sister-wife and I marched alagai by the legion mindlessly into the weapons of the Hollow Tribe. Even the changeling that killed Drillmaster Enkido quailed before our sound, allowing our companions to destroy it.”
Asome paused. Many warriors in Everam’s Bounty had witnessed the son of Jessum’s fiddle magic, and how it could lead alagai to slaughter like lambs. It was power Asome coveted, and only Amanvah and Sikvah could provide the keys to unlock it.
“Perhaps,” Baden allowed. “But a Sharum fights with the spear, not magic.”
Amanvah smiled. “Do you wish to test my sister-wife’s skill with the spear, Damaji?”
Baden scoffed. “Are you asking me to strike a woman in the Deliverer’s Court?”
“Of course not, venerable Damaji,” Amanvah said. “I invite you to choose a champion. One of these men whom you claim have killed more alagai than my sister?”
She turned, scanning the crowd. “Or your famed grandson, Shar’Dama Raji, perhaps?”
All eyes turned to Raji. The young shar’dama was just a few years Sikvah’s senior. A warrior-cleric known f
or his fearlessness against the alagai. He was armed even in the day, wearing warded fighting silvers across his knuckles, leaning ever so slightly on the warded whip staff he was famous for. A barbed alagai tail hung coiled at his belt. He was a big man, dwarfing tiny Sikvah, but she did not hesitate, turning and crossing fists over her heart, giving him a warrior’s bow.
Raji smiled and took a step forward, eyes flicking to his grandfather for permission to crush the upstart girl. The Damaji, however, sensed the trap. For decades, Baden had worked closely with the dama’ting, and he knew better than any not to underestimate them. Ashia’s fighting prowess was already legend in the palace. If Sikvah proved equally formidable and his heir was put down in front of the assembled court, he risked a loss of face.
He hesitated, and every moment cost him a bit of the dignity he sought to preserve.
Asome saw it, too. “Enough. My father did not tolerate violence in his court, and neither will I. Dama Baden is correct. None question the power of this…spellsinging, but Sharum are raised by the spear. Whatever her skills, Sikvah has not killed a demon in battle before witnesses.”
“Tonight, then,” Amanvah volunteered. “How many witnesses would you like?”
“Even if she succeeds, killing a demon armed in the Damajah’s invincible spears and armor is no great feat of glory. The Sharum’ting Ka must be worthy to lead warriors in Sharak Ka. The throne will not recognize Sikvah.”
“What feat of glory would satisfy the Shar’Dama Ka?” Amanvah asked.
“She must do it as true Sharum,” Asome said. “Like our father did, a boy in his bido with an unwarded spear, fighting to earn his armor.”
“The Shar’Dama Ka has spoken,” Inevera announced, “and the Pillow Throne agrees. Tonight Sikvah will enter alagai’sharak in her bido with an unwarded spear. Tomorrow at dawn she will present the throne with an alagai head to burn in the sun, or we will find another to lead Everam’s spear sisters.”
There were gasps from the assemblage, particularly the Damaji’ting, offended at the thought of forcing a woman to abandon modesty in front of male warriors.