Peter Brett - The Daylight War

Inevera cast again, staring for a long time at the result. At last, she sighed. ‘I do not know. There are too many variables. I will try again in the coming days.’

‘Every day,’ Jardir said. ‘A hundred times if you must. Nothing is more important.’

Inevera bowed slightly, lifting the dice one last time. ‘We will cast now for the coming day.’

Jardir nodded. This was a practice they had done nightly for almost twenty years. Some days, the dice told him nothing — at least, nothing Inevera chose to share — but others they warned of hidden knives and poison, or when to be ready to seize an advantage.

Inevera tipped the last of his blood onto the dice and shook as she said the words Jardir had heard countless times. ‘Everam, giver of light and life, I beseech you, give this lowly servant knowledge of what is to come. Tell me of Ahmann, son of Hoshkamin, last scion of the line of Jardir, the seventh son of Kaji.’

She threw, and the dice scattered wide, symbols pulsing in patterns he could not hope to comprehend.

‘You will give the dama’ting a powerful gift today,’ Inevera said.

‘Kind of me,’ Jardir noted. He saw no deception in his wife, but that did not mean his gift would be a willing one, rather than something duped from him.

Inevera gave no indication she had heard him. ‘You will gain warriors tonight, but lose others on the morrow.’

‘Gain at night?’ Jardir asked. ‘Lose during the day? How is this possible?’

‘I do not know,’ Inevera said, but Jardir could see in her aura that her words were only half true, and had to suppress a flash of anger. What secrets was she hiding? How was he to lead their people to victory when his own wife kept secrets about his warriors?

As they had frequently in recent weeks, his thoughts turned to Leesha Paper. The woman could be vexing in her own ways, but he did not believe she had ever lied to him. He wished she was here by his side, not this … tunnel asp.

‘Not long after sunrise tomorrow, an unexpected Messenger will bring you ill tidings,’ Inevera went on.

‘That happens every day,’ Jardir said, hardly caring any more.

Inevera shook her head. ‘This one has passed through death to see his missive delivered.’

That got Jardir’s attention, and he looked up at her as she squinted at the dice. ‘His message will bring you pain.’

He saw no deception in her, but as she spoke the words, her aura pulsed. There was nothing in her expression, no outward sign, but to his eyes it was plain as day.

Empathy. Without even knowing the cause, her heart had cried out for him, when she realized he would be hurt. His pain was her pain.

He reached out to her, his anger gone, and gently touched her face. She looked at him, and her aura had never shone so bright.

Whatever else she might feel, wherever her loyalties might lie, she loved him.

Oh, my Jiwah Ka, Jardir thought sadly. How I have wronged you.

‘The Deliverer is not to be disturbed, khaffit !’ Jardir heard Hasik’s growl even through the covered walls and door of Inevera’s pillow chamber. With the crown atop his head, he could hear the wind buffeting the wings of birds high in the sky, and his ajin’pal was not a quiet man.

Jardir sat up, waking Inevera in the process. Abban .

He looked at Inevera and smiled, trying to convey all the love he felt for her, and knowing it fell short. Inevera’s return smile was genuine, and her aura gave back his love with equal fervour.

He kissed her again. ‘Duty calls, beloved.’

She nodded, helping him into his raiment before seeing to her own. When they were composed, they left the chamber, returning to the throne room.

It was empty, but it was little surprise after Asome’s lesson. Jardir sniffed, smelling the blood of the Damaji spattered on the carpet.

He pointed to a few drops. ‘Ichach.’ He sniffed again and turned, pointing a few feet away. ‘Qezan.’

Inevera nodded, taking special cloths from her pouch and carefully blotting up as much of the blood as possible for her spells. If his Damaji were to turn on him over this indignity, he wished to know of it. His Jama and Khanjin sons were still in their nie’dama bidos, but he would raise them himself if necessary to keep his tribes unified.

He strode up the steps to the Skull Throne, throwing back his warded cloak as he sat. He waited for Inevera to join him on the dais, then clapped his hands loudly. Immediately, Hasik appeared at the door, bowing deeply.

‘Show Abban in,’ Jardir said. Hasik had a surprised look on his face, but he nodded, and a moment later the fat khaffit appeared at the door, bowing as low as his crutch would allow.

‘Abban, my friend!’ Jardir beckoned the khaffit . Inevera shifted beside him, and he did not need to see her aura to know what she was feeling. He had seen Abban’s aura, and knew the khaffit harboured similar feelings towards his First Wife.

No matter , he thought. They must learn to abide each other.

Abban stopped at the base of the dais, but Jardir waved him still closer. ‘You may climb three steps,’ he smiled, ‘one for each of your legs.’

Abban smirked, tapping his crutch against his leg. ‘My wives would tell you that meant I could take a fourth step as well.’

To Jardir’s surprise, Inevera laughed at this, and Jardir nodded. ‘I remember you in your bido, and think your wives flatter you, but the sound of the Damajah’s laughter pleases me. You may take the fourth step.’ Abban ascended quickly, not questioning his fortune.

‘We have consulted on your plan, and find it sound,’ Jardir said. ‘We will attack Docktown on first snow. Begin the preparations, but say nothing to anyone.’

Abban bowed. ‘The longer the secret is kept, the less chance the Laktonians will have to flee. If I had my way, even your generals would know nothing until the time came to signal the attack.’

‘It is sound advice,’ Inevera agreed.

Jardir nodded. ‘But that is not why you come to me today, Abban, and I have not summoned you. What draws you from the centre of your web?’

‘My people have made a … delicate discovery,’ Abban said. For an instant his eyes flicked to Inevera.

Jardir sighed. Was there no trust to be found anywhere in his court? ‘Speak.’

Abban bowed again, reaching into a pocket in the fine tan vest he wore over his colourful silk shirt. He withdrew the hand, holding out a lump of silvery metal.

Inevera stiffened, and Jardir, too, recognized it immediately. He was out of the throne in an instant, snatching it from the khaffit ’s hand. He hadn’t held it a moment before Inevera snatched it in turn, holding it to the light, this way and that.

‘This is the same metal as the Spear and Crown of Kaji,’ she said, voicing all their thoughts.

Abban nodded. ‘Our metallurgists have long sought to unlock the secrets of the artefacts of the first Deliverer. Too pale to be gold, but neither were they silver, or platinum. Our best guess had been white gold, an alloy made by adding nickel to pure gold. Jewellers in the bazaar have been using it for centuries.’ He smiled. ‘Cheaper than gold, it sells for nearly twice the price to fools who think it exotic. This,’ he pointed to the lump of metal, ‘is electrum.’

‘Electrum?’ Jardir asked.

‘A natural alloy of silver and gold, I am told,’ Abban said.

Jardir’s eyes narrowed. ‘Told by whom?’

Abban turned, clapping loudly as Jardir himself had done before. Immediately Hasik appeared at the door. ‘Show in our guest,’ Abban called. Hasik glared at him, but when Jardir did not countermand the order, he vanished, escorting a Rizonan man into the room. The man was old, squinting in the light, his face and hands smudged with dirt. He held a hat in his hands.