Peter Brett - The Daylight War

But it was the other woman that caused Asome’s aura to flare so bright with rage that Jardir felt blinded by it even in periphery. Ashia, Ashan’s daughter by his eldest sister, Imisandre.

Asome’s First Wife.

Dawn was approaching; the stained-glass windows of the throne room beginning to fill with colour. Every ancient rite of Sharum naming had been observed. The young women had more than fulfilled the demon killing requirements, standing face-to-face with alagai in the naked night and not giving ground. Inevera had cast the bones for them, and — of course — pronounced them worthy. Now all that was left was to wait for sunrise, and his decision.

It was not an easy decision to make. Beyond the far-reaching cultural implications, either choice would directly cost him respect and loyalty from valuable allies and family.

He looked at Inevera, her aura still infuriatingly self-satisfied. She loved him, but that was not the same as being on his side. She seemed almost bored as she lounged on her bed of pillows, but beneath she was intensely focused.

Beside her on his throne, Jardir watched as Asome and Ashia quietly argued in a small alcove at the far end of the room. It took only a little concentration to see through the stone and make out their auras. His sharp ears picked up every word.

‘How can you shame me like this?’ Asome demanded, his hands shaking. Jardir had made a point of reminding him that he considered striking his sister’s daughters as great a crime as striking a dama’ting , but Asome’s aura showed he was considering it anyway.

‘Shame you?’ Ashia’s aura was flat and even, like that of a warrior who had embraced her fears and let them fall away. ‘Husband, you should be proud of me. Shanvah and I are the first Krasian women in history to stand in the night and be baptized in demon ichor. How does this bring anything but honour to your name?’

‘Honour?’ Asome asked. ‘As you parade around unveiled in men’s clothes? Where is the honour in every man I meet thinking I cannot control my own wife?’

‘I do not wish to be controlled!’ Ashia snapped. ‘You and my brother may have convinced my father to give me to you, but it was never my desire.’

‘Am I unworthy?’ Asome asked. ‘The Deliverer’s second son is not enough for you? Perhaps you wish you had been given to Jayan?’

‘I, too, am blood of the Deliverer,’ Ashia said, ‘and a princess of the Kaji. I do not wish be given to anyone!’

Asome shook his head, genuine confusion in his aura. ‘Have I not been a good husband? Given you everything you desire? Put a child in you?’

‘You and Asukaji have never cared a whit for my desires,’ Ashia said. ‘You dressed me in silk and bathed me in luxuries, but otherwise haven’t given me a thought, save on our wedding night when Asukaji watched and stroked his cock as you put a child in me, and forty weeks later when the two of you ripped my newborn son from my arms.’

‘I will give you more children,’ Asome said. ‘Sons. Daughters …’ Jardir could see him desperately trying to understand her desires, if only to deter her and save face.

‘No,’ Ashia said. ‘I am not just a womb to carry your children because Asukaji cannot! You and your pillow friend have the son you wanted. Now I will have my own life.’

Asome’s aura went red then, and Ashia’s showed she knew her husband was about to strike her — was goading him even. She had already planned her parry and return blows.

‘Asome!’ Jardir boomed. ‘Attend me!’ Man and wife turned to him, the moment shattered. Asome strode away from his wife without another look.

‘Father!’ he called. ‘You cannot permit this madness to continue!’

‘I agree,’ Ashan said, standing at the base of the throne with Asukaji. His aura made clear his expectation that Jardir, out of the love and loyalty they shared, would not condemn his foolish daughter to life as a Sharum .

‘I gave my word, Ashan,’ Jardir said. ‘I will not be forsworn.’

‘The Deliverer is correct, he cannot be forsworn,’ Aleverak said. Everyone looked at him in surprise, not believing the conservative Damaji would approve.

Jardir would never admit it, but he loved Damaji Aleverak. He did not always agree with the man, but the Damaji’s honour was greater than that of any man he had ever met. Even after he tore Aleverak’s arm off, Jardir had not managed to make the ancient cleric fear him. Aleverak could ever be counted on to argue Jardir’s decisions.

Before they were made. Afterwards, however foolish he might think them, Aleverak followed the commands of the Shar’Dama Ka, and would kill any who opposed them. Jardir looked at his aura and felt something akin to what a son felt for a father. The Damaji had been his greatest opponent on the path to the Skull Throne, and was now perhaps the only man in the world he could trust fully.

Ashan looked about to reply when Aleverak raised his hand to forestall him. He looked at Jardir, and his aura went cold. ‘If the Deliverer sees fit to allow some women to become Sharum , then that is how it shall be. But your decree did not negate the duties of a daughter and wife that are prescribed in the Evejah. For did not Kaji himself command their obedience?’

Inevera’s aura changed to one of amusement at the thought. Everam knew, she was anything but obedient. Jardir snorted and immediately regretted it as he saw how the sound had offended proud Aleverak.

‘Wise words, Damaji,’ he said quickly, and relaxed as the man’s aura was mollified. ‘It is true I can bend my words if I wish.’

‘Then bend them!’ came a shout from across the room.

Jardir looked up as Hasik belatedly shouted, ‘The Holy Mother!’

Kajivah, still in sleep blacks, stormed into the room with his sisters Imisandre and Hoshvah in tow, three auras showing as one in outrage. Next to him, Inevera’s aura went cold with fear, all sense of smugness gone.

Interesting , he thought, eyes flicking to his wife and watching the threads of emotion that connected her to Kajivah. She believes my mother can sway me when even my counsellors cannot.

Looking back to Kajivah, Jardir couldn’t deny his wife was right to worry. His mother had occasionally been vexed with him over the years. He was no stranger to that. But never had he dreamed his divine mother could direct such fury at him.

‘This is your fault,’ Kajivah said, drawing gasps from around the room. ‘This is what comes of refusing your nieces the white.’

Asome nodded. ‘It was enough you told the world they were not worthy of Everam’s grace. Now you decree they should man a spearwall like common warriors?’

Jardir felt his temper flare. He pulled the edge of his white outer robe, revealing the black beneath. ‘ I am a common warrior, my son. As is your elder brother.’ He glanced at Jayan’s aura, not surprised that the boy did not care what he decided. His eldest son did not want the headache of women warriors, but neither did he consider the issue worth crossing his father over. He was content to stand by and enjoy Asome’s suffering.

‘There was a time when you begged to be a warrior, as well,’ Jardir told Asome. ‘I mourn the loss of that boy. His honour was boundless.’

‘I have led men in the night,’ Asome said. Jardir regretted the insult when he saw how deeply it cut at his son’s spirit, but now was not the time to coddle.

‘From the rear,’ Jardir said. ‘You are a master tactician and general, my son, but you have not felt the rancid breath of an alagai on your face. If you had, you would have more respect for the spear.’