Peter Brett - The Skull Throne

Jayan shifted uncomfortably, eyes flicking to his shoulder, but he simply grunted. “That will be acceptable, khaffit. Lead the way.”

By the time they made it to the warehouse, Jayan was sweating and pale with pain. He collapsed to the pillows, accepting tea with one hand, his other still limp at his side. Khevat and the other men pretended not to notice, but all were aware that something was wrong.

There was a glow from the corner of the room as Asavi sent magic through Hasik, finishing the healing the kill had started. There was a whispered plea to her, but Asavi, eyes flicking between his legs, only shook her head sadly. Hasik looked at Abban, eyes full of hatred, and Abban let him see just the hint of a grin.

“Would the Sharum Ka like me to see to his arm now?” Asavi asked. The other men glanced at her uncomfortably, then back to pale and sweating Jayan. All knew what was coming. Asavi had not been able to take her due in public, so she would have it thrice over behind the curtain.

“If the d-dama’ting wishes,” Jayan managed through gritted teeth.

“I could leave it, if you prefer,” the Bride said. “There is time to save it if I act quickly. If not, it will wither and die.”

Jayan’s one good eye bulged, and he began to shake.

“The Brides of Everam do not need clerics and warriors to punish those who would lay hands upon us, son of Ahmann,” Asavi said. “Our blessed Husband has given us power enough to see to our own protection. It is a lesson you would do well to remember.”

She looked around the room, boldly meeting the eyes of the other men, even Khevat. “All of you.”

They were bold words for a woman, and many of the men—Khevat especially—bristled, but none was fool enough to contradict her. She gave them a moment, then nodded, gliding over and helping Jayan slip his robe from one shoulder. The spot where the dama’ting had struck was black now, and the shoulder swollen. She took the limb tenderly, stretching and turning it as she massaged it back to life. Soon Jayan was wriggling his fingers again, and not long after making a fist.

“The limb will recover fully in a few days,” she said.

“Days?!” Jayan demanded.

Asavi shrugged. “Kill alagai, and the magic will speed the healing.”

“You healed Hasik in an instant,” Jayan pressed.

“Hasik did not lay hands upon me,” Asavi noted.

“Fine, fine!” Jayan said sullenly, cradling the limb with his good hand. “Now will you tell us what all that business on the docks was about?”

“Your enemies gather and make plans,” Asavi said. “The dice have long foreseen this.”

“Any fool can guess that,” Jayan snapped.

“The dice also told me to stop the thief who stank of demon root, or thousands would die,” Asavi said.

“Demon root?” Jayan said.

“A dama’ting healing herb,” Asavi said. “They call it hogroot here in the North. The spy reeked of it.”

“Why did you not speak of this sooner?” Khevat demanded. “We could have had guards sniffing everyone to enter the palace of the Sharum Ka.”

“The dice said nothing of the palace,” Asavi said, “or the Sharum Ka. The thief could have been anyone, anywhere. The dice foretold we would meet when I caught his scent, and what I must do. Had I spoken of it to anyone, fate may have changed, and the thief evade me as well.”

“He did evade you,” Khevat noted. “All your vaunted hora magic, and you could not so much as stop a simple thief?”

“That was no simple thief, my dama, ” Abban said, bowing. “He evaded the dal’Sharum as if they waded in deep sand, and lasted ten seconds against the greatest living drillmaster. And fearless, running knowingly out amongst the water demons. And let us not forget he had the Sharum’s Lament to set fire to the palace as distraction.”

“But what was he after?” Qeran mused.

“There’s no way to know for sure,” Abban said. “Only a few lives were lost in the burning of the palace, but the building is lost. We cannot say just what papers are missing amongst the ashes, but it is easy to guess.”

“Troop numbers,” Qeran said. “Supply trains. Our maps. Our plans.”

Abban bowed to Jayan. “We have copies of everything, Sharum Ka. Nothing has been lost. But we must assume our enemies now know all.”

Asavi knelt on the floor, drawing everyone’s attention. While they spoke, the dama’ting had quietly laid out her casting cloth. Now she took out the hora, casting all in their eerie glow.

“Guesswork,” Asavi said. “Everam may show us a clearer path, now that the divergence is past.”

All were silent as she threw, many of them seeing it for the first time since their Hannu Pash. When it was over, the Bride looked up, the hora light casting her white veils in red as if soaked with blood.

“It does not matter what the spy took,” Asavi said. “Three duchies unite against us, and your enemies have what they need to attack.”

Jayan’s eyes took on an eager light. “Where? When?” A sane commander might be concerned at an impending attack, but the young Sharum Ka saw only a chance for glory, a chance to prove himself worthy of the Skull Throne.

The dama’ting looked back at the dice, eyes flicking over unreadable patterns. Abban had always mistrusted the dice. He could not deny there was magic about them, giving information that could be uncannily accurate, but it seemed their reading was as much art as science, and they did not tell all.

“They will attack from land and water,” Asavi said.

“Oh?” Jayan asked. “Will they use weapons, perhaps? And warriors? If that is the best your dice can …”

Asavi held up the dice and they flared with power, casting the entire room in red light. It seemed they would sear the fingers from the dama’ting, but she held them easily, even as the men shrank away from the glow.

All were silent a moment. Abban looked at Qeran, nodding him forward.

The drillmaster looked as if he were being asked to climb into an alagai pit, but he went without hesitation or complaint, kneeling before Asavi and putting his hands on the floor. He bent forward, pressing his forehead between them.

Asavi looked at him a moment, and nodded. “Speak, Drillmaster.”

“Honored and wise dama’ting, ” Qeran began carefully. “It is not for we humble men to question the word of Everam. But if there is anything the dice may tell of where to position our forces, it could mean the difference between victory and defeat.”

“The dice do not speak of such things,” Asavi said, “because our enemies watch us for hint we see their intent. If their spies note our movements, they will change their plans, negating the prophecy.”

She held up a finger. “But while they will not say where, they do tell us when. They will attack on Waning.”

Khevat blinked. “Impossible. They would not dare …”

“They will,” Asavi said, “for the very reason you doubt. They think the Waning will distract us. Make us weak.”

Jayan scowled. “My father said the chin had honor, if of a lesser sort, and were humble before Everam. But it cannot be so, if they would dare attack on the day we prepare for the rise of Alagai Ka.”

“That is only the beginning of their offense to Everam,” Asavi said, drawing all eyes back to her.

“They will attack in the night.”