CHAPTER 38

SHARAK KA

334 AR

“Damajah. Your holy mother has arrived.”

Inevera turned. Lost in thought, she hadn’t even sensed Jarvah entering. That sort of carelessness could get her killed. “Show her in.”

She turned back to the window as Manvah entered and came to stand beside her. Jarvah closed the doors, leaving the two of them alone, staring out at the rebuilt docks where Laktonians and Krasians worked together to salvage what ships they could, and strip the remainder for parts.

“Never in my dreams did I imagine an oasis so vast, or a fleet so great,” Manvah said.

“It will still not be enough, if we are forced to flee the city on Waning,” Inevera said.

Manvah looked at her. “You would give in to Nie so easily?”

“Not easily,” Inevera said. “If by my death we can hold Everam’s Reservoir, my glory will be boundless. But if at the cost of my dignity I can preserve our people to fight another night, I will take that deal and call it a bargain.”

Manvah nodded, turning back to the window. “That’s the daughter I remember.”

“The journey was uneventful?” Inevera asked.

“The alagai tested us,” Manvah said, “but it was nothing ten thousand Sharum could not handle.”

Inevera nodded. Now that the alagai knew they meant to hold the Reservoir, she was free to bring in reinforcements, but she did not dare bring so many that the Bounty defenses were weakened. Amanvah and Asome reported fighting on the outskirts of the city proper, demons increased in number, led by hatchling minds, but as in the Hollow, Everam’s Bounty’s wards were too strong for the demons to yet threaten their center of power.

“What word of the chin rebellion?” Inevera asked. “Asome and Amanvah say it has remained quiet, but you hear things in the bazaar they do not.”

“With the alagai slashing and burning at the wards,” Manvah said, “and the Messenger from the Hollow reporting Angiers’ fall, the chin have little desire to continue fighting those best equipped to defend them.”

“Sharak Ka brings with it an end to Sharak Sun,” Inevera quoted.

“It would appear so.” Manvah gestured to the Krasians and Laktonians laboring side by side at the docks. “These chin fed the rebellion, but now they are yours.”

Inevera dropped her eyes. “That is not…entirely truth.”

“Eh?” Manvah asked.

“I needed an enemy to keep the Damaji in line with Ahmann gone,” Inevera whispered. “A scapegoat for the chin rebellion. Abban pressed to attack Docktown and take their winter tithe of grain and supply to the city on the lake, and so I—”

“Sat on your pillowed throne and lied,” Manvah finished. “Using Everam’s name to cast these people prematurely into Sharak Sun to serve your own interests.”

Inevera nodded. “And for that, I lost my eldest son and much of Everam’s army to gain a foothold in this fetid swampland.”

“Sometimes a foothold is all one needs to make a leap,” Manvah said. “I can hear in your voice that you expect me to chastise you, but it is not for me to say what is right and wrong. You are the one Everam burdened with power, and from what I have seen, you have used it with great wisdom.” She turned and smiled. “Most of the time. Who can say what would have happened last Waning, had you not come to the Reservoir? Lakton may have been lost in any event. At least now there is a chance for their island city to be restored.”

“Did you bring the shipping manifests?” Inevera asked.

Manvah nodded, producing a sheaf of papers from her robe. “Food, lumber, tar, and other supplies. Enough to rebuild Docktown, and thousands of dal’ting engineers and craftswomen to do the work, if they can find their way from the maze of tents you have them building.”

“We cannot house fifty thousand inside Docktown’s walls,” Inevera said. “The tent configurations will form greatwards to hold the alagai at bay while we construct new defenses.”

“I will see it done.” Manvah had risen in power quickly, when it was revealed to the people that one of the most powerful businesswomen in the Great Bazaar was in fact the Damajah’s mother. There was no one Inevera would rather have at her side.

A knock at the door, and Jarvah escorted Asukaji into the room. He flinched at the sight of Manvah. “Holy Mother, I did not realize you had come…”

“Close your jaw, boy,” Manvah said. “You’re going to be seeing a lot of me.”

Asukaji dipped lower in acknowledgment, then straightened. He had been a cripple when Asome kidnapped her and killed Kasaad, but they all knew he’d supported the plan.

“It is time, Damajah,” Asukaji said. “The fish men wait before the throne.”

Inevera nodded, then swept out of the room with Manvah, Jarvah, and Asukaji at her heels. They joined the Krasian delegation of Inevera’s sister-wives, Sikvah, Sharu, and Qeran as Inevera ascended to the Pillow Throne.

Across from the Krasians stood Duke Isan, Captain Dehlia, and the surviving dockmasters. Isan strode out to stand before the throne when Inevera was seated, giving a shallow bow. “Damajah. This is an auspicious day for both our people.”

She could not see his aura, but no doubt he was angry still—resenting her presence, resenting his bow. Nevertheless, his words seemed sincere. He produced two rolls of parchment, written in neat, identical hand in both Krasian and Thesan. “The contracts are ready.”

“All that remains, then, is the blood.” Inevera rose and glided down the seven steps, drawing the curved blade from her belt. Isan eyed it warily, even as he produced a keen blade of his own. Jarvah appeared with the pot of ink, opening it on the small signing table between them.

“We have shed blood together in the night, Isan asu Marten asu Isadore,” Inevera said as the two leaders pricked their fingers, each squeezing seven drops to mingle with the dark liquid. “Let our mingled blood usher in a new age of peace between our people.”

When it was finished, Jarvah mixed the blood into the thick ink and stepped back. As one, Inevera and Isan lifted quills not unlike the one Isan’s mother had used to blind Jayan, and dipped them in the ink.

“I name your people Lake Tribe, the fourteenth tribe of Krasia,” Inevera said as she signed her copy, “and you Damaji Isan. You will have sovereignty over these lands and peoples, subject only to the throne of Krasia. When Sharak Ka is ended, if we be victorious, I will return with the bulk of my people to Everam’s Bounty, leaving only those who will coexist in peace. This I swear before Everam, by His light and my hope of Heaven.”

“Inevera vah Ahmann am’Jardir,” Isan’s Krasian was heavily accented, but understandable, “I name you Damajah, who sits upon the Pillow Throne of Krasia. I pledge my loyalty to you and the Shar’Dama Ka who sits upon the Skull Throne of Krasia. We will fight as one in the night.” He signed his name, and Jarvah smoothly switched the scrolls for them to sign.

When it was done, Jarvah whisked powder across the surface to quicken the drying, then sealed and pocketed the ink jar. The mixed blood of Inevera and Isan might grant a powerful foretelling.

“And now, Damajah,” Isan gestured to the great window, “a gift from the Lake Tribe to cement our alliance.”

A large Laktonian galley Inevera had never seen before entered the bay, making for the docks at speed. Armament covered the deck, and Inevera looked back at Isan, expecting him to put his quill in her eye. “What is this?”

Isan offered no threat, backing toward the window. They watched in silence as the boat slid in to the dock and was moored in place. The sailors opened the hold, emptying hundreds of Sharum warriors onto the docks. The men looked filthy, but strong. Healthy. Fit to fight.

“After the city was lost, I sent a ship to retrieve the captured crews from Prison Isle,” Isan said. “The dockmasters argued against risking a ship for the sake of those who invaded our waters, but to abandon them to the corelings was to risk becoming demons ourselves.”

Inevera, shocked, took a moment to react. Then she bowed, sending the other Krasians in the room scrambling to do the same, longer and deeper. “Your honor is boundless, Damaji Isan. We are all the Creator’s children in the night.”

—Alagai Ka do not swim.—

Inevera pondered the symbols. It explained much about how the Laktonian fleet survived after their city was broken into pieces. The Evejah’ting taught that water was a poor conductor of magic. The minds sent their leviathans as blunt weapons to destroy the city, but they did not oversee the destruction personally.

If there was a limit to how far a mind could control its drones, then the deep waters of the lake might be safer than the shoreline. Somewhere between Docktown bay and Lakton was likely where the demon’s influence ended, or the water demons would have scuttled the entire fleet.

The leviathans were the greatest threat to Docktown. Even with additional dama’ting and shar’dama with hora to work spells, it was easier to fight alagai than the water itself. The Pillow Throne was more powerful now than the previous Waning, but it offered no defense against the waves.

“Summon Qeran.”

“Your will, Damajah.” Jarvah made no sound as she slipped from the room.

“Your will, Damajah.” Qeran put his forehead on the floor.

“You do not approve.” Inevera could see it in his aura.

“It is not for me to approve or disapprove inevera,” Qeran said, “but the Damajah need not risk herself. You are needed here, to guide the battle in town.”

“We have the blood of the Deliverer for that, Drillmaster.”

There had been fighting enough for all, but night after night, wherever battle was thickest or there were hints of the presence of the alagai generals, the grandchildren of Kajivah appeared, reaping glory like grain. Sikvah, Asukaji, Sharu, and Jarvah. Blood of the Deliverer. Their names were whispered among Sharum and chin alike.

Still Qeran looked unsatisfied. “Speak.”

Qeran put his face to the floor. “The deep water is…unforgiving, Damajah. It cares nothing for Everam’s children. If flung to the Maze floor, warriors can breathe—can cry for help. They know up from down. The ground does not try to kill them. Not so, the lake. It seeks our deaths, Damajah.”

“As do the alagai,” Inevera said. “Your words are wise, Drillmaster. Your counsel noted. But our new defenses cannot hold if the demons cast waves at us again. I have foreseen it.”

“I will go in your stead,” Qeran said. “I will take Tan Spear, Tan Shield, and Tan Armor, the finest ships in the fleet, to trawl for the leviathans. I will hunt them and send them to the deep.”

“We will hunt and send them to the deep,” Captain Dehlia said. “I volunteer Sharum’s Lament.”

“And the Isadore,” Damaji Isan said. Inevera looked at the man curiously.

“I never asked to be a dockmaster,” Isan said, “nor a duke, nor a Damaji. I have always been a better captain than any of those things. If the water demons are the greatest threat to my people, then it is my duty to face them.”

Inevera nodded. “It is all of our duties.” She looked to Sikvah. “You and Damaji Asukaji will command sharak on land, niece. Umshala will command the dama’ting. I will ride with Qeran on Tan Spear. Qasha will sail with Dehlia on Sharum’s Lament. Justya will join Damaji Isan on the Isadore.”

It was a strange feeling, walking the rolling deck as they set sail into the gloaming on Waning. The alagai dare not yet approach the surface, but already the water seemed to chop and kick, the boards in constant motion beneath her feet. It was simple enough to keep her balance, but Inevera’s stomach churned at the sensation.

She closed her eyes, envisioning a palm tree, swaying in the wind. The deck was a constant. She reached into it with her center as if planting roots, becoming one with the boards. Her stomach calmed, and she opened her eyes, walking the deck to inspect the armament. Sharum sailors, unaccustomed to so lofty a presence, dropped what they were doing to prostrate themselves as she passed.

“Tell them to stop that.” Qeran nodded and turned to shout at the men as Inevera looked over the gunwale, seeing the lines of scorpion stingers on the lower deck. Below that, dark water loomed.

The deep water seeks your death.

Inevera knew how to swim, but as land faded behind them, she began to realize how meaningless that was. A fall overboard at night in churning water would be the end of any of Everam’s Children. Even her.

Pulling her thoughts from grim notions of drowning in the dark, she let her eyes drift over the larger scorpions on the decks, firing giant barbed stingers her sister-wives had warded personally for their prey this night. The giant spears had cores of warded glass with an eye at the butt end. These were attached to strong cables connected to great capstans the crew could bend their backs to. Mehnding archers stood ready on the fore and aft castles. Beneath the bowsprit, the ship’s beak cut the water, warded glass, sharp and hard. Those wards Inevera had attended personally.

Tan Spear was flanked by its twin guardians, Tan Shield and Tan Armor. These were nearly identical in make and armament, but lacked the beak of the flagship.

Up ahead, the Lake Tribe waited, Damaji Isan aboard the Isadore and Dehlia captaining Sharum’s Lament. They patrolled a carefully calculated line, one Inevera believed was just beyond the mind demons’ control.

She watched the sun set on the water, beautiful and terrifying. Waning was upon them.

As darkness fell, wards began to glow all over the ship: the gemstones in many of the Sharum turbans, water demon wards along the hull, and wards of sight and protection on the helms of the crews. They would see in Everam’s light, fighting as easily in the darkness as bright day.

But so, too, did the water begin to glow as the alagai rose from the deep. Some were quick, fleeting things, barely glimpsed. Others…

They did not have to wait long. The enemy was eager to crush Docktown’s resistance once and for all. The entire lake began to glow, brighter and brighter, until it seemed the surface of the water was aflame. Waves surged and the deck rolled, but Qeran and the other captains knew their business and kept the ships pointed right at them, riding the swell as the first leviathan demon burst from the water, leaping high into the night sky.

It was beautiful and terrible, a giant, ancient thing, bright with magic. Its great maw could swallow half their ship in a single bite. Its tail could smash a building to splinters and rubble. The sharp bone edge of its flukes could tear through a galleon’s hull without slowing.

But it could not see them. The wards of unsight on their ships hid them from the swirl of demons gathering below. The crew held their breath, waiting.

The leviathan seemed to hang in the air a moment, then twisted with a snap of its tail as it descended.

“Fire!” Inevera screamed, and the scorpion crews of the other ships fired, giant stingers piercing the colossal beast from all sides. They let the cables whip slack as the demon stuck the water, creating an enormous upsurge, then bent their backs to the capstans, steadying the ships against the wave even as they held the creature in place.

Only Tan Spear did not fire. With its sails furled, powerful eunuchs strengthened by hora magic pulled at the oars, climbing the swell. They reached the crest and rode down at terrible speed.

Inevera slashed cutting wards into the air, weakening the demon’s thick, ancient hide as they rammed the leviathan with the ship’s beak.

The jolt was terrible, knocking even skilled crewmen from their feet, and more than a few overboard. They had lashed themselves to the deck in preparation for the strike, but even the tough silk cable and steel hooks were strained. More than a few broke loose, sending warriors screaming into the water’s cold embrace.

Ichor burst from the demon’s wound, bathing the crew in the forecastle, but it only fed the wards of the beak and hull, making the ship stronger as the demon thrashed and let out a high-pitched wail that reverberated through the water.

The crews were not idle, peppering the demon with bowfire and stingers from the lower scorpion decks. Qeran himself aimed the great scorpion on the deck of Tan Spear and fired a monstrous stinger into the demon’s black eye, bursting the orb in a spray of ichor.

The eunuch rowers pulled, but the beak held fast in the demon’s hide. Inevera rent at the wound with cutting wards from her wand, widening the gash faster than even so ancient a demon could heal. Then she drew water wards, using the forbidding to push the ship away.

The creature thrashed again, threatening to pull the other ships under. Qeran gave the signal and the lines were cut, but the demon flopped one more time on the surface, twisting and opening its maw to bite at the ship.

Inevera Drew on the energy flooding the ship’s deck, using the demon’s own magic to power heat and impact wards sent down its throat. The demon’s belly distended, then burst like an overfilled bladder, and it sank into the deep.

The crews cheered, but there was little time to celebrate. Along the line between Lakton and Docktown, more of the leviathans were rising into the night sky and slamming back down, building the waves to critical mass.

The tentacle, big as a city street, slapped against the hull, horned suckers grasping for purchase. Water wards flared and held, but the ship was spun about like a child’s toy. Inevera danced to keep her feet, but her stomach roiled and she had no choice but to give in to it, grasping the gunwale and retching over the side, her wand dangling from the electrum chain manacled to her wrist.

There was no time to wipe her mouth or finish her heaves. Three more massive tentacles burst from the water, grasping for the ship more by feel than sight. Archers turned the limbs into pincushions, but they came on unhindered. The scorpion teams, unwilling to waste stingers on fast-moving targets, concentrated fire into what seemed to be the demon’s center mass in the water.

Inevera severed one tentacle just before it struck, but could not stop the next. The wards on the mainmast, weakened by torn sails and tangled rigging in the constant waves and spray, gave way, and it shattered, toppling.

The tentacle was stopped by the wards on the rails, but it skittered along the forbidding, sweeping the deck. Inevera and the Sharum were forced to throw themselves to the boards, losing weapons and grips on rigging in the desperate move to duck the horned appendage. The slowest were swept screaming from the ship to begin their journey on the lonely path.

Masts snapped and sails fell over the deck, adding to the chaos and further weakening the wards. Inevera herself, rolling to keep some sense of control on the bucking planks, was covered as a mass of canvas fell over her.

She swept the knife from her belt, slicing the tarp in one smooth motion, but it still left her too tangled to raise her wand in time as she saw the third tentacle looming above them, blocking out the stars.

Everam, your Bride is ready to meet you, she thought, but it was premature.

Sharum’s Lament cut across the water between Tan Spear and the demon, severing the tentacle with her ship’s beak. They were at hard row, but still only barely avoided the fallout as the massive appendage came crashing down into the water.

Inevera watched the glow in the water fade as the dying creature sank back into the depths.

There was a sudden lull. The waters still churned, but already it was lessening. For a blessed moment, no alagai threatened.

Tan Shield was lost, sinking beneath the waves like the tentacled demon. Tan Spear and the Isadore were forced to flee the battle, limping back toward Docktown with smaller water demons at their heels. Inevera had lost sight of them, and did not know their fate.

Qeran bounded over to her. “Damajah—”

A glance at his aura was all Inevera needed to read his mind. He wanted permission to call a retreat. “I have eyes, Drillmaster.”

Inevera twisted an earring, signaling Qasha on the Lament.

“Damajah,” Qasha responded immediately.

“We must retreat,” Inevera said. “Tan Spear cannot sustain more damage and remain afloat.”

“Captain Dehlia agrees, Damajah,” Qasha said after a moment. “The glory of the chin sailors knows no bounds this night, but the Lament cannot continue the fight without fresh ammunition and repair.”

Inevera nodded at Qeran. “Give the order.”

As the captain darted off, steadier on his metal leg than the sailors with two, Inevera broke the connection and twisted the earring that would signal Sikvah.

For long moments, there was no reply. At last, Inevera broke the connection, summoning Asukaji.

“Damajah,” her nephew replied immediately.

“I cannot reach Sikvah,” Inevera said.

“You must come quickly, if you can,” Asukaji said. “Sikvah has fallen.”

Inevera shouted at the eunuch rowers to bend their backs, using hora to leap to the docks before the ship even pulled in. The streets blurred as she ran to the Chamber of Shadows, where Asukaji was waiting. “Is she alive?”

Her nephew bowed, but there was anger in his aura. “She was not breathing when we brought her to the dama’ting, but still they work their spells over her. Her fate is…inevera.”

Inevera steeled herself, pushing past. Dama’ting and acolyte alike looked up as she entered the chamber, but none dared speak.

Inevera saw why, looking into the aura of the woman on the operating table. The spirit of Blessed Sikvah, Sharum’ting Ka of Krasia, had gone down the lonely path, but Umshala had used magic to keep her body alive, for the sake of the life within.

I will bend, Inevera swore silently, glancing at her sister-wives; the dama’ting and nie’dama’ting working to heal the wounded. I am the Damajah. I must be the ground beneath their feet.

But even the supplest palm could break in high wind, and what sacrifice was worthier of the Damajah’s tears? “Bottle.”

A girl still in her bido appeared with a tear bottle. Her lip quivered and her own eyes were wet, but her hands kept steady as she scraped the tears from Inevera’s cheek.

Inevera cupped the girl’s chin when it was done. “What is your name?”

“Minnah vah Shaselle, Damajah,” the girl said.

“We must all take Minnah’s example,” Inevera said loudly. “The sacrifices are countless in Sharak Ka. We shed tears for all of them, but ever our hands must be steady.”

As one the women bowed, and Inevera strode from the chamber to where Asukaji still waited. He clutched Sikvah’s spear, stained with demon ichor and bright with magic, staring at the blade as if there were secrets it might reveal.

“Report,” Inevera said.

“Jurim yet lives, but few of his Wolves remain,” Asukaji said. “The tent greatwards were overrun after Sikvah fell. I took command of the evacuation and held the alagai at the wall until their offensive broke. Sharu is in command now, but I do not think the demons will press again with dawn so near.”

Inevera nodded. “You have done well, Damaji. Until further notice, our forces are yours to command. Return to the wall and hold it until dawn, then report back.”

She was about to turn away when she caught the defiance in his aura. She paused, shifting her feet slightly to offer him only her profile, casually moving her hand closer to her hora wand. “Was there something more, nephew?”

“Did you know?” Asukaji asked quietly.

“Know what?” Inevera asked.

“The Deliverer commanded I obey you, Aunt, and so I will.” Asukaji leaned close. “But you dishonor us both by pretending ignorance of what I speak. Did you know my cousin was with child when you gave her the command?”

Inevera raised her jaw. “I did.”

“All these weeks.” Asukaji spoke as if he could not believe it. “Battle after battle, in the Maze, on the wall, out beyond the wards. Again and again you put her on the edge of the abyss with an innocent in her belly, just like you did to my sister and Kaji.”

“Shall we speak at last, Asukaji, about which of us has more wronged Ashia?”

Asukaji bared his teeth. “I know what I did, Aunt. I attempted to kill my sister out of jealousy, and Everam smote me down for the crime. But the Deliverer healed me. Forgave me. Yet still you seek to punish me.”

“Punish you?” Inevera was incredulous.

“You would not let me aid my sister and nephew. You put Sikvah and her unborn child on the front lines, rather than give me command of Sharak.”

“You have an exaggerated sense of your own worth, nephew,” Inevera said. “You were raised in Sharik Hora. What do you know of leading troops in the Maze? Of sharak? A few weeks of fighting in the night, and you think yourself equal to your sister and cousin, who spent years in Sharum training with Drillmaster Enkido. Your father was a great man, and you assume you must be the same, even as you helped your lover murder him. Sikvah was more qualified than you. That is why she was given command.”

It was her turn to lean in, advancing as Asukaji shrank back. “Sharak Ka is not about your pride, boy. Your cousin, your sister can see that, but it seems you cannot. The alagai do not simply come to kill warriors. They come to kill the corrupt and the innocent alike. The First War asks sacrifice of us all.”

“Yet it falls to me even so,” Asukaji says. “While Sikvah is doomed to half life, in the vain hope we can save the child.”

“Inevera,” the Damajah said. “Will you stand here and bemoan that fate as well, or will you go and hold the wall?”

“If the alagai come at it again in force, there will be multiple breaches,” Asukaji said. “We cannot hold another night without significant repair and reinforcement.”

“Repair what you can,” Inevera said, “but there is no reinforcement to be had. We cannot risk pulling more warriors from Everam’s Bounty, and the Hollow Tribe has its attention turned to the North. We must trust in ourselves, in Everam and the Shar’Dama Ka, to deliver us a miracle.”