As if in a daze, the girls followed their noses to the table. It felt like floating.
The head of the table for the master, Enkido signed.
The foot, for Nie Ka. He indicated that Ashia kneel at the opposite end. He beckoned Shanvah and Sikvah to kneel on one side. Micha and Jarvah the other.
Enkido swept his hands over the steaming bowls. Meat this one night, in honor of Sharum blood.
He thumped his fist on the table, making the bowls jump. The table, always, for Everams spear sisters.
From that day forward, they always ate together, like true family.
He punished their failures, yes, but Enkido gave rewards, too.
No meat had ever tasted sweeter.
Years passed. At sixteen, Ashia and the other girls had been commanded to begin growing back their hair. It seemed heavy now, clumsy. She kept it carefully pinned back.
At seventeen, her father sent for her. It was the first time she had left the Damating Palace in over four years, and the world outside looked strange to her now. The halls of her fathers palace were bright and garish, but there were places to hide, if one was limber and quick. She could disappear in an instant if she wished, trained to be invisible.
But no, she was here to be seen. It was an alien concept, half remembered from another life.
Beloved daughter! Imisandre rose and went to embrace her when she entered the throne room.
It is a pleasure to see you, honored mother. Ashia kissed her mothers cheeks.
Her brother stood to the right of the throne, draped in the white robes of a full dama. He nodded to her, but did not presume to speak before their father.
Ashan did not rise, watching her coolly, searching still for some imperfection to judge. But after Enkido, her fathers expectations were met effortlessly. Back straight, eyes down, every fiber of her black robes in place, she silently approached. At the precise distance from the throne, she stopped and bowed, waiting.
Daughter, Ashan said at last. You are looking well. Does the Damating Palace agree with you?
Ashia straightened, but kept her eyes at her fathers sandals. He had two Sharum guards by the door, too far to assist him in time. A Krevakh Watcher lurked in the columns behind the throne. She might not have noticed him when she was younger, but now he might as well have been wearing bells. Pitiful protection for the Damaji of the Kaji and his heir.
Of course, Ashan himself was a sharusahk master, and could see to his own defense against most any foe. She wondered how he and her brother would fare against her now.
Thank you, honored Father, she said. I have learned much in the Damating Palace. You were wise to send me and my cousins there.
Ashan nodded. That is well, but your time there has come to an end. You are seventeen now, and it is time you were married.
Ashia felt as if she had been punched in the gut, but she embraced the feeling, bowing again. Has my honored father selected a match at last? She could see the smile on her brothers face, and knew who it was before her father spoke again.
It has been agreed between fathers, Ashan said. You are released from the Damating Palace to marry the Deliverers son Asome. Your palace chambers are as you left them. Return there now with your mother to begin preparation.
Please. Having dismissed her, Ashan was already looking to his advisor Shevali when Ashia spoke.
Eh? he asked.
Ashia could see storm clouds gathering on her fathers brow. If she were to attempt to refuse the match
She knelt, putting her hands on the floor with her head between them. Excuse me, honored Father, for disturbing you. It was my hope, only, to see my cousins one last time before I go with my honored mother to follow the path Everam has laid before me.
Her fathers face softened at that, the closest he had ever come to a show of affection. Of course, of course.
She held her tears until she reached the training chamber. Her spear sisters were practicing sharukin, but they stood straight, bowing. Enkido was not to be found.
Nie Ka, you have returned, Shanvah signed. Is all well?
Ashia shook her head. Nie Ka no longer, sister. That title will be yours now, and the care of our little sisters. I am to marry.
Congratulations, sister, Sikvah signed. Who is the groom?
Asome, Ashia signed.
An honor, Micha signed.
What will we do without you? Jarvahs hands asked.
You will have one another, Ashia signed, and Enkido, until such time as we are reunited. She embraced each in turn, and still refused to cry.
But then the door opened, and Enkido appeared. With a wave, the other girls filed out of the room, dismissed.
Ashia looked at her master, and then, for the first time since she was sent to the Damating Palace, she wept.
Enkido opened his arms, and she fell into them. From his robes he took a tear bottle. He held her, steady as stone, stroking her hair with one hand as he collected her tears with the other.
Im sorry, master, she whispered when it was done. It was the first time in years anyone had spoken aloud in the training chamber. The sound echoed to her sensitive ears, seeming wrong, but what did it matter now?
Even the palm weeps, when the storm washes over it, Enkido signed, moving to hand her the bottle. The tears of Everams spear sisters are all the more precious for how seldom they fall.
Ashia held up her hands, pushing the bottle away. Then keep them always.
She looked down, even now unable to meet his eyes. I should be overjoyed. What greater husband could a woman dream of the Deliverers son? I thought that fate was taken from me when I was sent to you, but now that it has come again, I do not wish it. Why was I sent here, if only to be given to a man who would have had me regardless? What point in the skills you have taught, if I am never to use them? You are my master, and I want no other.
Enkido looked at her with sad eyes. I had many wives before giving myself to the damating, his fingers said. Many sons. Many daughters. But not one has made me as proud as you have. Your loyalty makes my heart sing.
She clutched at him. Asome may be my husband, but you will always be my master.
The eunuch shook his head. No, child. The command of the Deliverer cannot be denied. It is not for me or you to speak against his blessing, and I will not shame the Deliverers son by coveting what is rightfully his. You will go to Asome a free woman, unbound to me.
Ashia pulled away, walking to the door. Enkido did not follow.
If you are no longer my master, she said, then you cannot command my heart.
The wedding was everything she might have dreamed as a girl, fit for a prince and princess of Krasia. Her spear sisters stood beside her as she waited for her father to escort her to where Asome waited with Jayan at the foot of the Skull Throne in Sharik Hora.
Enkido was in attendance as well, guarding the Damajah and watching over the proceedings, though none of the guests knew it. She and her sisters knew the signs, saw the slight ripples he left to mark himself to them.
The oaths and ceremony were a blur. Two thrones had been provided for the bride and groom at the feast, but Ashia sat alone, waiting on her husband as he accepted gifts and spoke to the guests, Asukaji at his side.
No expense had been spared, but the rich, honeyed cakes were bland to Ashias tongue. She longed to be back safe underground, eating plain couscous at the foot of Enkidos table.
But for all she walked through the day in a daze, it was the wedding night that brought home her true fate.
She waited in the pillow chamber for Asome to come and take her as a husband, but hours passed in silence. Ashia looked more than once at the window, dreaming of escape.
At last, there was a sound in the hall, but it never reached the door.
There was a vent above the archway. Ashia was up the wall in an instant, her fingers easily finding holds in the minute cracks between the stones. She put her eye and ear to the vent, seeing the back of Asomes head, with Asukaji facing him. They looked to be arguing.
I cannot do this, Asome was saying.
You can, and you will, Asukaji said, taking her husbands face in his hands. Ashia must give you the son I cannot. Melan has thrown her dice. If you take my sister now, it will be done. One time, and the ordeal be over.
Realization was a slap in the face.
It was no sin for men to love their own gender. It was common enough in the sharaj, boys forming pillow friendships to pass the years before they were old and experienced enough for their first wife. But Everam demanded new generations, and so all but the most stubborn pushting were eventually bound to marry and share the pillows, if only long enough to produce a son. Everam knew, Kajivah had said as much to Asukaji many times.
But she had never thought she would be a pushting bride.
They entered a moment later. Ashia had plenty of time to get back in the pillows, but her mind was reeling. Asome and Asukaji were pushting lovers. She had never meant anything to them save as a womb to carry the abomination they wanted to bring into the world.
They ignored Ashia, Asukaji undressing her husband and stiffening him with his mouth until he could do the deed. He joined them in the pillows, coaxing them together.
His touch made Ashias skin crawl, but she took shallow breaths, and endured.
Despite his words, there was jealousy in her brothers eyes, his face darkening as Asome gasped and saw Everam, seeding her. As soon as the deed was done, Asukaji pulled them apart and the two men fell into an embrace, seeming to forget she was even there.
Ashia thought then about killing them both. It would be simple. They were so lost in each other she doubted they would notice until it was too late. She could even make it seem an accident, as if the act had been too much for poor Asomes heart. Her brother, distraught at his lovers death, would have taken a knife to himself rather than live without.
Enkido had taught her to do those things, so cleanly that the Deliverer himself would never know.
She closed her eyes, living the fantasy fully, not daring to move lest she make it reality. She breathed, and eventually her center returned. She rose from the pillows, pulling her wedding robes back on, and left.