Peter Brett - The Daylight War

Inevera nodded. ‘Your granddaughters are all well, and will soon be dama’ting . Amanvah has already taken the veil and married.’

‘And who is the lucky suitor?’ Manvah asked.

‘A chin from the Hollow tribe,’ Inevera said. ‘He is nothing to look at — small, weak, and dressed in more colours than a colour-blind khaffit — but Everam speaks to him.’

‘The boy who charms alagai with his music?’ Manvah asked. Inevera raised an eyebrow, but Manvah dismissed her with a wave. ‘Everyone in the city speaks of the chin in the Deliverer’s court. The boy, the giant, the woman warrior,’ she looked pointedly at Inevera, ‘and the greenland princess.’

Inevera turned and spat on the floor.

Manvah tsked. ‘That bad?’

‘I forbade him to marry her,’ Inevera said, not bothering for once to mask the venom in her voice.

‘There was your first mistake,’ Manvah said. ‘Never forbid a man anything. Even Kasaad, meek as he is since you stripped him of his blacks, can be stubborn as a mule when forbidden, and your husband is Shar’Dama Ka.’

Inevera nodded. ‘It is written in the Evejah’ting: Forbid a man something, and he shall desire it tenfold. But my heart spoke before my mind.’

‘And how did the Deliverer react?’ Manvah asked.

Inevera felt her spittle gather again, but swallowed it, breathing deeply. ‘He told me I did not have the right. He said he would make her his greenland Jiwah Ka , with dominion over his Northern wives.’

Manvah paused her weave, looking up to meet Inevera’s eyes. ‘Did you expect that he would keep his wedding vows when you have not?’

The words stung, and part of Inevera regretted telling her mother of her infidelity with the Andrah, but she breathed deeply and let the feeling blow by.

— She will tell you truths you do not wish to hear-

‘I at least had the decency to do it in private.’ Inevera bit the words off. ‘He flaunts her, taking her in my own pillow chamber and shaming me before the entire court.’

‘I didn’t think I had raised a fool,’ Manvah said, breaking off a long end of wicker with a snap, ‘but it must be so, if you think the distinction matters a whit to a cuckold. You hurt him, and he is returning it on you threefold. This was a bill you should long have expected to come due. But in truth, what difference does it make if he bent some Northern whore? Great men are expected to conquer women, and you remain Jiwah Ka. ’

‘In title, but no longer in truth,’ Inevera said. ‘I have not taken his seed in almost two Waxings.’

Manvah snorted. ‘If that is what defines a Jiwah Ka , I stopped being Kasaad’s decades ago. I have not had him since Soli.’

‘Kasaad is not the Deliverer,’ Inevera said.

‘Then stop your posturing and go to his bed,’ Manvah said. ‘Show him you remember he is Shar’Dama Ka,’ her eyes flicked to meet Inevera’s, ‘and remind him you are his Damajah. The woman is gone, I hear, and without accepting his proposal. Make him forget her.’

Inevera sighed. ‘It is not so simple. The Northern witch brought more than just her gates of Heaven to Ahmann. She has whispered poison in his ear.’

‘Poison?’ Manvah asked.

‘It was bad enough she and her harlot mother walked the palace unveiled,’ Inevera said, ‘but now they have brought the notion that our women should fight alagai’sharak like the Northern savages. To please her, Ahmann has decreed that any woman to take an alagai in battle will be Sharum’ting , and accorded all a warrior’s rights.’

Manvah shrugged. ‘What of it?’

Inevera gaped. ‘You cannot possibly approve.’

‘Why not?’ Manvah asked. She picked at her blacks. ‘You think I like having to wear these? I look at the Northern women and dream of being so free. Of owning my own pavilion, instead of running Kasaad’s. And why should I not? Because Kaji’s clerics saw women as cattle, and worked oppression into the holy verses? It is easy for you to cast a dim eye. You get to strut about the palace in the nude.’

‘I am hardly nude, Mother,’ Inevera said. Manvah looked at her, and she cast her eyes down, knowing dissembling did not work with her mother. Inevera dressed as she did to tweak the noses of the Damaji and remind them of her power, but there was no point denying that she gloried in it, as well.

‘You never approved of alagai’sharak when it was Soli at risk,’ Inevera said. ‘Should we add our daughters to the fight as well as our sons?’

‘I hated alagai’sharak when it was a meaningless sacrifice of our men to the Andrah’s pride,’ Manvah said. ‘But have not your precious dice told you Ahmann is the Deliverer, sent by Everam to lead us through Sharak Ka?’

‘They said he might be,’ Inevera reminded her.

Manvah levelled a look at her. ‘You’d best pray he is, or you have wasted the last quarter century of your life. And did they not say Sharak Ka was coming in any event? Alagai kill women as well as men, daughter. Do not let the fact that allowing us to defend ourselves is a Northern notion blind you to its power. You remember Krisha and her ugly sister-wives beating your father. There are women built to fight. Let them. Nie, encourage them. Make the Northern custom your own and you will steal the fruit from this mistress of the Hollow’s tree.’

‘There will be uproar,’ Inevera said.

Manvah nodded. ‘There will be shouting in public, and cold anger in private. A handful of idiots with flaccid cocks will pick a few women at random to vent their rage upon. But none will dare oppose the Shar’Dama Ka publicly, and soon enough it will become accepted.’ She smirked. ‘As when you began baring your sex in public.’

Inevera feigned a shocked look, and Manvah winked at her. ‘But the women of Krasia worship you for it, even if they dare not admit it aloud. Give them this, and you will own their hearts forever.’

Inevera moved quickly through the bazaar after her meeting with her mother. She hated leaving Manvah. Each time it hurt anew, knowing it might be months before she could visit again. But she had been gone too long already, and did not wish to raise suspicion that might lead back here. Manvah and Kasaad were secrets even Ahmann was not privy to. Qeva might remember, but the dice had said the Kaji Damaji’ting would never betray her.

But then, in a coincidence so great it was hard to believe it occurred without the aid of her dice, she saw him, strutting her way through the bazaar in his familiar sleeveless robe and black steel breastplate with its sunburst of hammered gold.

Cashiv.

He looked no different than he had all those years ago, which said much for his prowess in battle. His face had the immortal look of the Spears of the Deliverer, so charged with magic each night that they moved a few hours back towards their prime, though their eyes and expressions remained those of older men. In the older warriors like Kaval it took longer for the signs to tell, but the younger ones moved quickly and stayed there. Cashiv was close to fifty, but he had the look of a man in his thirties, still strong and full of fight.

A step behind, he was flanked by two other Sharum , both young and beautiful of body and old of eye. Inevera recognized them both, and for a moment almost expected to see Soli among them.

It had been years since she had thought of the warrior. Dama Baden was a strong voice in the Deliverer’s court, but Inevera had not seen his favourite kai’Sharum since he had cursed her for sparing Kasaad’s life. Had he ever forgiven her?