Peter Brett - The Daylight War

‘Almost?’ Jardir asked, smiling.

Inevera returned the grin, showing him her dice, now safely encased in the bright white metal. ‘You have your tools, and now I have mine.’ Her aura said she had coated more than just her dice, but he let her have her secrets. She was his Damajah, and it was fitting she wield power of her own.

‘I was right to give the metal to you,’ Jardir said. ‘Abban would have found a clever use for it, no doubt, but would never have thought of something so …’

‘Altruistic?’ Inevera supplied, and he had to laugh.

‘Unprofitable,’ he agreed.

‘I do not trust the khaffit , husband,’ Inevera said.

‘Abban is as loyal to me as you are,’ Jardir said.

Inevera shook her head. ‘He is loyal to himself first, and you second.’

Jardir nodded. ‘The same could be said of you, Bride of Everam.’

‘There is a difference in serving the Creator first,’ Inevera said.

‘Yes,’ Jardir agreed. ‘And no. No mortal man or woman can truly trust another, beloved. And yet somehow we must find a way, if we are to win Sharak Ka. Waning is upon us. Now is the time to face the dark, not worry about poisoned blades at our backs.’

Inevera opened her mouth to reply, but Jardir touched a finger to her lips. ‘You are the Bride of Everam, wife, yet I am the one with faith. Not just in the Creator, but in His children.’

‘ Faith never gets the weaving done , my mother used to say,’ Inevera said. ‘The Creator helps those who earn it.’ Her aura called him a brave fool.

‘“The Creator helps”,’ Jardir repeated. ‘Do you think it coincidence we found the sacred metal of Kaji just weeks before the greatest test of my reign? We do not fight Nie alone, even if He does not strike the alagai down Himself. And if I am to deliver this world, I must believe that for all our differences, no one, man, woman or child, wishes it to fall to the alagai .’

Inevera did not argue further, but her aura remained unconvinced.

‘Your mother was a weaver?’ he asked, trying to change the subject. ‘I assumed she was dama’ting .’

Inevera’s aura suddenly went wild. There was shock, and fear, and a secret. Enough to fill him with questions, but not enough to answer them. He wondered if this was what reading the alagai hora was like for her.

‘You never speak of your family,’ he pressed, watching closely.

Inevera’s aura showed her searching desperately for a way to evade the question and change the subject. She gave off the scent of a cornered animal that would rather flee than fight. But then her chest rose and fell several times in rhythm, and a wave of calm spread over her.

‘Most dama’ting are the daughters of our order,’ she said. ‘Some few others are called by the dice in Hannu Pash . We cut off all contact with our families when called, and they do not know our fate from the moment we are taken.’

It was fascinating. Every word she said was true, and yet it read on her aura as a lie. ‘But you did not.’

Inevera smiled. A practised distraction while she breathed herself into serenity. She was wondering how much he knew, if he had been spying on her. She was carefully choosing words to reveal nothing she did not wish.

Jardir was tiring of the game. ‘ Jiwah , you will stop your dissembling.’

His tone was harsh, and he watched as she leapt on it, using the excuse to get angry as a way to avoid the topic. Her brows drew into the thundercloud she had practised to perfection.

He smiled. ‘Stop that, too.’ He moved to her, taking her in his arms. She stiffened, and there was a token resistance as he pulled her close. ‘Do you love me, jiwah ?’

‘Of course, husband,’ Inevera said without hesitation.

‘And do you trust me?’

There was a spike in her aura, and the slightest delay. ‘Yes.’ It wasn’t a lie, not precisely, but neither was it truth.

‘I do not know what secret you hold about your family,’ Jardir said. ‘But I see that you hold one, and that dishonours me.’ Inevera pulled back and tried to speak, but he shook his head. ‘When we wed, it was more than a union between us. Your family became mine, and mine yours. Whatever it is, I have a right to know.’

Inevera stared at him a long moment, her aura so chaotic he could not guess what her response would be. But then it calmed once more. ‘My parents are alive and in Everam’s Bounty. They are a source both of pride and of shame to me, and I fear for them if our relation is revealed.’ She met his eyes and bowed. ‘It was wrong of me to keep this secret from you, beloved. For this, I apologize.’

Jardir nodded. ‘Accepted, on one condition.’

Inevera raised an eyebrow.

‘I want to meet them,’ Jardir said.

‘I do not think that is wise, husband,’ Inevera said. ‘They would be in danger …’

‘I am Shar’Dama Ka,’ Jardir said. ‘I have hundreds of relatives. You think I cannot protect them?’

‘Not without costing them the simple life they enjoy now, far from palace intrigue,’ Inevera said.

Jardir laughed. ‘You can engineer my nieces into the ranks of Sharum , but not plot a way for me to meet your parents away from prying eyes? We both know you can find a way if you wish it.’

Inevera regarded him, still wary. ‘And if I do not wish it?’

Jardir shrugged. ‘Then I will know I come third in your eyes, and not second after Everam, as you claim.’

The curtains were still drawn as the counsellors entered the throne room. A few oil lamps gave artificial light, preserving Jardir’s crownsight as he regarded Jayan and his twelve Damaji . At the side of each of the tribal leaders were his second sons, and in Ashan’s case his nephew. Save for Asome and Asukaji, both eighteen years old, all were fifteen. Not wholly boys, but not men, either, still in the white bidos of nie’dama , a strip of white cloth thrown over one shoulder.

He could see in their auras that the Damaji still resented the boys who had displaced their own heirs. Leadership of a tribe was not automatically hereditary as it was in the green lands, but it was functionally so, with the brothers, sons, and nephews of the Damaji holding every advantage.

More, he could see the ties that bound the men to him like threads in the air. The common Sharum and dama might truly believe Jardir divine, but the Damaji served out of fear.

If I die this night , he thought, my sons will be killed the moment it is known. Jayan might hold his grip on the white turban, perhaps, and Ashan would protect Asukaji and Asome, but the other Damaji would not hesitate to slaughter his nie’dama sons. Aleverak would not break his oath not to harm Maji, but that oath had a clause they knew well. The ancient Damaji would drink poison to allow one of his sons to do the deed.

The Damaji talked among themselves, but Jardir thumped his spear once, and they fell silent. ‘Waning is upon us, Damaji. Alagai Ka and his princelings will rise tonight to test our people as we have not been since the Return.’ He could see doubt in some of the men, and fear in others. Most, however, held the flat control of years of meditation. ‘Jayan,’ he looked to the boy, seeing in his aura an eager excitement and a hope to prove himself, ‘will lead the Sharum .’

There was a burst of chatter at that. Jardir thumped his spear again.

‘Forgive us, Deliverer,’ Damaji Aleverak said. ‘Jayan has done well as Sharum Ka, and we offer no disrespect, but is it not the place of Shar’Dama Ka to lead in Sharak Ka?’