CHAPTER 10

FAMILY MATTERS

334 AR

Beware, sister, Jarvah’s fingers said. I have never seen the Damajah so angry.

Ashia found her center in the comforting weight of Kaji sleeping in his sling as the Damajah stormed into the room. With the windows covered, she glowed and crackled in Everam’s light.

“He has my family,” the Damajah growled.

Ashia tilted her head. Her family? Ashia and her spear sisters were Inevera’s nieces after all. The Deliverer was lost, Jayan was dead, and Asome sat the throne. Who was she referring to? “Apologies, Damajah, but I do not understand.”

Inevera’s eyes found hers. The Damajah’s gaze was unnerving under any circumstances, but now it burned with such intensity, Ashia wished she could look away.

“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 center 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 demeanor 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 favorite 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 jewelry 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 signaled 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.

The floor was warded, a puzzle of steps that would sound an alarm if crossed improperly. Ashia memorized the path the boys took, but she and Micha followed along the walls, blending perfectly with the paint. They reached an inner stair guarded by a pair of clerics with warded staves, and the nie’dama split up, one continuing down the hall as the other ascended to the seventh floor.

Follow. Ashia used a finger to indicate the first boy. Her mission was to find the Damajah’s parents, but this close, Ashia could not resist looking in on her treacherous husband. She followed the second boy up the stairs, slithering along the ceiling faster than he could climb. She was his shadow as he passed guards and doors, coming at last to an anteroom where the boy laid the tray on a table, knocked at the far door, and then quickly scurried out, closing the hall door behind him.

Ashia was ready to leap when the door opened, but when she saw Asome, her breath caught and she nearly missed her opportunity. In their entire marriage, had she ever seen her husband answer a door? That was a task for women and servants.

Then Asome did the unthinkable. The Shar’Dama Ka, supreme leader of all Krasia, bent and picked up the tray himself. Ashia slipped in while his back was turned, thoughts reeling. Had Asome become a recluse since Asukaji died? A haunted shell of a man? Part of her hoped it was so. A taste of the judgment he would find in Heaven.

“Dinner, my sun,” Asome called, and Ashia blinked. His wife and lover murdered, and he had already found another? Anger threatened her center, but she brushed it aside, skittering along the ceiling to follow her husband to the pillow chamber. Who would she find? Dama Jamere? Cashiv? One of Asome’s half brothers?

The last person she expected was her brother, Asukaji, whose neck she had broken.

“I am not hungry.” Asukaji’s voice was a harsh whisper. “Take it away.”

Asome set the tray by the bedside. Asukaji lay prone, his body unmoving, its aura flat. Not dead, but not truly alive.

That changed at his neck. The aura about her brother’s head was hot and raw, his eyes focused and his face full of emotion.

Paralyzed, Ashia realized with horror. For a warrior, it was a fate worse than death. Even now after he had tried to strangle her, she did not wish this upon her brother. They had been close when they were young, and part of her loved him still.

“You must eat, my love,” Asome said. “You cannot feel your hunger, but it is there. Without food, you will waste away.”

“And what if I do?” Asukaji demanded. “Better I eat, and lie helpless as I shit the bed an hour from now? I could have died with honor. Instead you force me to linger, a prisoner in this worthless shell.”

Asome sat on the edge of the bed, taking one of Asukaji’s limp hands. “I cannot do this without you. Half my plans and stratagems are yours.”

“That is not what you thought when you fucked that heasah.” Asukaji’s head lolled with the force of his snarl.

Asome was quick to steady him, kissing his forehead. “She is your sister, whom you yourself insisted become my Jiwah Ka.”

Ashia’s cheek twitched. She fell deeper into her breath, silent as stone.

“I am your Jiwah Ka!” Asukaji’s cry was hoarse. “She was a womb to carry the son I could not.”

Asome lifted the cover from the tray, steam rising off a bowl of thin gruel that was likely all her brother could swallow. Asome blew on a spoonful like a mother preparing to feed an infant. “We needed her trust, cousin. For her to believe me loyal to her and humble before my mother. And if I’d created another son for us, so much the better.”

Asukaji spat at the spoon as it came near, but it came out as a dribble on his chin. “I am not a fool, Asome. Sons and plots were not on your mind when you bent her.”

“What does it matter?” Asome took a silk napkin, wiping Asukaji’s mouth. “She could never replace you in my heart. No one can. She could have been a valuable Jiwah Sen but for your jealousy. You insisted on killing her.”

He took Asukaji’s jaw in his hand, squeezing until his teeth opened enough to admit the spoon.

“But you were not her match, were you, sweet Asukaji?” Asome forced the gruel into his mouth. “Nor Melan and Asavi together a match for my mother. Now they are on the lonely path, you lie frozen, and my mother has hostaged half the throne.” Asome massaged Asukaji’s throat until he swallowed.

“Soon Amanvah will return to control the Kaji dama’ting, bringing with her a Jiwah Sen no doubt as deadly as your sister, and a husband blessed by Everam.”

“A chin and khaffit,” Asukaji growled. “Amanvah should have been mine, as Ashia was yours. That was our bargain.”

“Khaffit or no, his power over the alagai is undeniable,” Asome said. “What could I say when Father gave her to him? Mother’s power will grow when they return. We must balance the scales now, while there is still time.”

Asukaji stopped resisting, eating in silence. Asome was tender and attentive, massaging every swallow until the bowl was empty.

“I am sorry, cousin.” Asukaji looked pitiful as Asome wiped the last smudge from his lips. “I failed you. Everam judged me and found me unworthy.”

“You yet live,” Asome said. “We will find a way to heal you. Already the dama make great strides with hora magic. Soon we will unlock all the secrets of the dama’ting. You will be restored and given another chance at glory.”

“The Damajah could heal me now,” Asukaji rasped. “We have her parents. She would not dare refuse.”

“We should not underestimate what my mother will dare,” Asome warned. “Who knows what this dal’ting and a khaffit are truly worth to her?”

“Surely not as much…” Asukaji’s face reddened with the exertion of speaking, “…as Tikka or Kaji, or you would have them in the underpalace.”

Asome shook his head. “I do not trust them down among the dama’s experiments. An explosion in Dama Shevali’s laboratory killed one of his nie’dama and cost another his eye.”

“They had best be worth something,” Asukaji wheezed. “You traded my black turban for the hostages. If they cannot buy back our son, then let it be my limbs.”

“We cannot reveal such a weakness to my mother,” Asome said. “She will find a way to twist it against us. The turban will be returned to you when you are healed. Baden thinks he is holding it for Kaji. He knows he cannot keep it forever.”

“Do not underestimate Baden,” Asukaji whispered. “I know how you get around Cashiv. He makes you stupid.”

“I can handle Cashiv,” Asome said.

“That is what worries me.”

“What does it matter?” Asome growled. “We have gone to Baden’s parties with oil on our belts since we were in sharaj. You’ve lain with Cashiv as many times as I.”

“It matters because I could please you, then,” Asukaji said. “Because I was your Jiwah Ka, the first sheath for your spear.”

“You still are,” Asome said.

“Then take me.”

“Eh?” Asome’s face slackened.

“Now, before that cursed gruel runs through me,” Asukaji begged. “Roll me onto my stomach and have me.”

“Asukaji…” Asome said.

“No!” There were tears in her brother’s eyes. “I cannot stop you lying with others, but I swear by Everam I will never swallow another spoonful if you cease to lie with me.”

Asome took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. Ashia could not bear to watch as he took oil and began to work himself for the deed. She fled the chamber while her brother and husband were too occupied to notice.

Micha was waiting when Ashia made it back to the stairs, a welcome distraction from her thoughts.

Report, Ashia’s fingers commanded.

I have found them, Micha replied. There are guards, but together we might…

Ashia made the sign for Nie. Our duty is to report to the Damajah.

Jarvah joined them as they descended. Asome’s underpalace is protected by hora magic. I could not penetrate it.

Irrelevant, Ashia told her. We have intelligence the Damajah needs. The three Sharum’ting slipped past the guards and out of Asome’s wing.