Peter Brett - The Core

‘My mother and father, Manvah and Kasaad, yet live,’ the Damajah said. ‘Until recently, they remained anonymous in the bazaar. Even the Deliverer himself did not learn of them until just before his fall.’

Ashia blinked. She and her spear sisters followed the Damajah everywhere, but even they barely knew her, it seemed.

‘Asome discovered and hostaged them,’ Ashia said.

‘Dama Baden’s bodyguard Cashiv knew of them.’ Micha jumped as the Damajah spat. ‘I should have killed him long ago.’

The Damajah shook her head. ‘This cannot stand. As soon as the sun sets, take your spear sisters to my son’s wing of the palace and find them.’

Ashia put a protective hand over Kaji at her breast. ‘I cannot take my son into Asome’s wing. Micha and Jarvah …’

The Damajah’s eyes flared, and her aura brightened until it became difficult to look at her. Ashia put up a hand, lest she be blinded.

‘They. Have. My. Mother.’ The Damajah bit the words off, each striking like a lash. ‘I have tolerated your insolence long enough, Sharum’ting Ka. You will not send your little sisters into danger alone. You will do as I command. Kaji will be safe with his grandmother in the Vault.’

Ashia slipped down to her knees, putting her hands on the floor. She bowed, touching her forehead between them. ‘Yes, Damajah.’

‘Asome gave reason to believe they were in the royal suite,’ the Damajah said. ‘No doubt he wishes to know his grandparents better. Begin your search there, and plant a hora stone in his chambers to give me an ear there.’

Ashia nodded. ‘Of course, Damajah.’

‘When you have their location, bring it to me and I will retrieve them myself.’

Ashia looked up at that, horrified. Inevera still flared bright with power, and she closed her eyes against it. ‘Damajah! You cannot expose yourself so.’

‘It is inevera ,’ the Damajah said.

Ashia made her way through a series of hidden passages down into the Damajah’s underpalace, only recently cut into the bowels of the hill beneath the greenland duke’s palace.

The smooth rock walls glittered with wardlight, the symbols running along them proof against demon and mortal intrusion both. Here, the Damajah worked her deepest magics and secured her most precious treasures.

‘Nie’s black heart!’ The words echoed in the hall. ‘Is there half a mind among you? Apple juice, I said!’

One of her moods? Ashia’s fingers asked the eunuch guarding the door.

She only has one, the eunuch’s fingers replied.

Ashia sighed, finding her centre before she pushed open the door. Kajivah’s chambers were large and lavish, with servants to attend her every need. At the moment all of them were on their knees, auras ripe with fear.

‘Holy Mother,’ one of the servants said. ‘The greenland fruit is not in season. There are none to be had in all Everam’s Bounty.’

Kajivah drew breath to shout what would no doubt have been a terrible reply, but she caught sight of Ashia in the doorway and the rage dissipated with her exhale. She strode over, arms extended. ‘Give him to me.’

Ashia’s jaw tightened beneath her veil, but she undid the fastenings, catching the sleeping Kaji in the crook of her arm long enough for Kajivah to take him.

The woman’s whole demeanour changed the moment she held him, and Ashia knew that whatever came to pass, Kajivah would never harm her great-grandson – would stand between him and all the demons of the abyss.

‘Will you take him for the night?’ she asked. It would be Ashia’s first night apart from her son since the Night of Hora when they walked the edge of the abyss together.

‘Of course, of course.’ Kajivah did not take her eyes off the child.

‘Thank you, Tikka,’ Ashia said.

Now the woman looked up. ‘Do not call me that. Not ever again.’

Ashia swallowed. Once, she had been the favourite of Kajivah’s many granddaughters. It was Kajivah’s own insistence that sent Ashia and her spear sisters to the Dama’ting Palace, putting them on the path to Sharum’ting. Now they were nothing to her.

She dropped her eyes, bowing. ‘As you wish, Holy Mother.’

She turned on her heel, striding quickly from Kaji lest she lose her resolve and rush back to him.

Even at night, infiltrating Asome’s wing of the palace was difficult. The new Shar’Dama Ka had found and sealed the secret passages the Sharum’ting used to move unseen about the palace. Guards and armed dama patrolled the halls, eyes warded to see in Everam’s light. Tapestries, rugs, and tiles were warded against alagai , but Ashia could see, too, wardings much like those the dama’ting used. Symbols to raise alarm if even a human were to cross them, and to seal this part of the palace from prying eyes. The hora stones the Damajah hoped to use to eavesdrop would be of little use, their magic blocked.

But Ashia, Micha, and Jarvah were clad in their kai’Sharum’ting robes, embroidered in electrum thread with wards of unsight. Whether in human sight or Everam’s light, they blended with their surroundings as easily as a sand demon in the dunes. It was only when they moved swiftly that they could be seen.

Their jewellery was similarly magicked, rings and bracelets on their hands and feet allowing them to cling to walls and ceilings like spiders. Slowly they slithered deeper and deeper into her husband’s sanctum.

Check the lower levels, Ashia told Jarvah when they were past the barriers. Asome will have an underpalace of his own. Find and penetrate it if you can.

Yes, Sharum’ting Ka.

Jarvah disappeared as Ashia and Micha made their way up to the residential floors. The Palace had seven levels, one for each pillar in heaven, but the outer stair only went to six, landing doors guarded by an alert kai’Sharum , bright in Everam’s light.

The sixth floor was reserved for the royal family, a place Ashia knew well. She and Kajivah both had chambers there. Technically they had been Asome’s chambers, but her husband had only seen the pillows there once.

The Damajah believed her blessed mother would be housed on the sixth as well.

The topmost floor, Asome’s private level, could only be reached by an inner stair, no doubt guarded as well.

The young women paused, clinging to the ceiling as the door guard came into clear view. Even with his white night veil in place, Ashia recognized her cousin Iraven, the Deliverer’s firstborn Majah son. Stripped of rank by Damaji Aleveran, he was now relegated to guard duty for his elder brother.

Micha took one hand from her hold on the ceiling, making the sign for the sleeping potion they carried. Applied to a cloth and forced over the mouth and nose, it could render even a large man unconscious for some time, waking with only fuzzy memories of his last moments. Her littlest finger curled, indicating a question.

Ashia shook her head. Too slow, her fingers said. Precise Strike.

The Precise Strike, their master Enkido’s school of sharusahk , targeted the natural convergences in the body. Places where muscle, vein, and nerve met. The targets were small and always in motion, each unique as their owner, but a sharp, precise blow could temporarily cripple an opponent, or knock them out instantly.

They edged slowly into position, clinging to the ceiling directly over their cousin. Micha would hold him, and Ashia would strike. But before Ashia signalled the drop, a pair of nie’dama carrying food trays ascended the steps. She could tell from body language that Iraven recognized them and would let them pass unhindered.

Micha needed no orders as they opened the doors, following instantly as Ashia sprang through. They landed in identical rolls on opposite sides of the hall, warded bracelets absorbing the sound. Their robes blurred for a moment, but they were effectively invisible again by the time the boys passed through the door.