Already the Sharum were questioning why the Deliverer had not returned to them. There had been no formal announcement, either of the battle itself or of its sudden end. Yet soon word would spread, and the ambitious would seek to exploit her husbands absence. The cunning had plotted for this day, and would be quick to act once it was clear the search was in vain. The rash might be quicker still.
It was clear Abban knew this, approaching the pavilion surrounded by his khaSharum warriors. The dalSharum still sneered at warriors in tan, but the eunuch spies Inevera had sent to Abbans compound had been found dead, and that spoke volumes for the khaffit warriors skill. She had seen, too, the glow of power in their weapons and equipment, carefully disguised with worn leather and paint to hide their fine quality. Not even the elite Spears of the Deliverer, with their shields and spearheads of warded glass, were equipped better.
You have grown formidable, khaffit. The thought did not please her, but neither did it worry her as it once had. She had not understood weeks ago when the dice told her Abbans fate was intertwined with her own, but it was clear now. They were Ahmanns closest, most trusted advisors and, up until a few hours ago, had been untouchable with vast discretionary powers. But with her husband gone, much of that power would evaporate. Inevera would have to work quickly and carefully to install Ashan, but once the reins were passed it would still be his voice, not hers, that led their people. Ashan was not as wiseor as pliableas Ahmann.
Abban was in an even worse position. Formidable though his khaSharum were, the crippled merchant would be lucky to live another day once his enemies ceased to fear Ahmanns wrath should he be harmed. Not long ago the thought of his death would have pleased her greatly. Now she needed him. The khaffit knew every last draki in the Deliverers treasury, every debt of the throne, every grain in his silos. More, Ahmann trusted him with schemes and secrets he did not even share with the Damaji. Troop movements. Battle plans. Targets.
The fat khaffits smile as he limped into her audience chamber showed he knew her need, Everam damn him.
At Abbans back was the giant khaSharum bodyguard that had become his shadow in recent weeks. The deaf man who had been one of the first to answer the Deliverers call. He had given up his weapons to enter, but seemed no less formidable as he loomed over the khaffits shoulder. Abban was not a short man, even stooping to lean on his crutch, but his bodyguard stood head and shoulders above him.
I commanded we meet in private, khaffit, Inevera said.
Abban bowed as deeply as his camel-topped crutch allowed. Apologies, Damajah, but the dalSharum no longer have Ahmann to hold their leash. Surely you will not deny me a modicum of security? Earless is deaf as a stone, and will hear nothing of our words.
Even a deaf man may hear, Inevera said, if he has eyes to watch a speakers mouth.
Abban bowed again. This is so, though of course the Damajahs veil prevents this, even if my humble servant had learned the art, which I swear by Everam he has not.
Inevera believed hima rare occurrence. Her own eunuch guards had given up their tongues to protect her secrets, and she knew Abban would value a man who could not overhear and be made to betray his many intrigues. Still, it was best not to yield too much.
He may guard the door, Inevera said, turning to saunter to the pillows on the far side of the chamber with a swing to her hips. Abban had never dared ogle her before, but she wondered if he might now, with Ahmann gone. That would be something she could use. She glanced over her shoulder, but Abban was not looking. He made a few quick gestures to the giant, who moved with a silent grace that belied his great size to stand by the door.
Abban limped over, easing himself carefully down onto the pillows across from her. He kept his inviting smile in place, but a flick of his eyes at his bodyguard betrayed his fears. He knew Inevera could kill him long before the giant could cross the room, and even Earless would fear to strike the Damajah. She could kill the khaSharum as well, in any of a hundred waysnot the least of which was a whisk of her fingers to her own bodyguards, Ashia, Micha, and Jarvah, hidden just out of sight.
There was a silver tea service between them, the pot still steaming. At a nod from her, the khaffit poured and served.
You honor me with your summons, Damajah. Abban sat back with his cup. May I ask the reason why?
To offer you protection, of course, Inevera said.
Abban looked sincerely surprised, though of course it was an act. Since when does the Damajah place such value upon poor, honorless Abban?
To offer you protection, of course, Inevera said.
Abban looked sincerely surprised, though of course it was an act. Since when does the Damajah place such value upon poor, honorless Abban?
My husband values you, Inevera said, and will be wroth if you are dead upon his return. You would be wise to accept my help. The dice tell me your life will be short indeed without it. My sons hate you even more than the Damaji, and that is a very great deal. And do not think Hasik has forgotten who cut his manhood away.
Inevera had expected the words to rattle the khaffit. She had seem his cowardice reveal itself in the face of danger before. But this was the bargaining table, and Abban knew it.
He has a cowards heart, Ahmann once told her, but there is steel in Abban to put Sharum to shame, when the haggling has begun.
Abban smiled and nodded. It is so, Damajah. But things are no less dire for you. How long will the Damaji let you sit atop the seven steps without your husband? A woman sitting above them is an insult they have never borne well.
Inevera felt her jaw begin to tighten. How long since any save her husband had dared speak to her thus? And from a khaffit. She wanted to break his other leg.
But for all the audacity, his words were true enough, so Inevera let them pass over her like wind.
All the more reason we must ally, she said. We must find a way to trust, as Ahmann commanded, or both of us may walk the lonely path before long.
What are you asking? Abban said.
You will report to me as you did to my husband, Inevera said. Bring your tallies and schemes to me before they are presented to the council of Damaji.
Abban raised an eyebrow. And in return?
Inevera smiled, visible through the gossamer lavender veil she wore. As I said, protection.
Abban chuckled. Youll forgive me, Damajah, but you have fewer warriors at your command than I, and still not enough to protect me should one of the Damaji or your sons decide to be rid of me at last.
I have fear, Inevera said. My sons fear me. The Damaji fear me.
They feared you, yes, Abban agreed, but how much of that fear will last when a new backside sits the Skull Throne? Absolute power has a way of emboldening a man.
No power is absolute save that of Everam. Inevera held up her dice. With Ahmann gone, I am His voice on Ala.
That, and three draki, will buy you a basket, Abban said.
The phrase was a common one in Krasia, but it put Inevera on edge nevertheless. Her mother was a basket weaver with a successful business in the bazaar. No doubt Abbanwho controlled half the commerce in Everams Bountyhad dealings with her, but Inevera had worked tirelessly to ensure her family remained safely anonymous, out of the politics and intrigues that ruled her world.
Were they just words, or a subtle threat? Useful or not, Inevera would not hesitate to kill Abban to protect her family.
Again, Inevera wished she could see into the hearts of men and women as her husband did. The thick canvas walls of the pavilion let her see the khaffits aura, albeit dimly, but the subtle variations and patterns of shifting color that Ahmann read as easily as words on a page were a mystery to her.
I think youll find my words carry more weight than you think, Inevera said.
If you secure your position, Abban agreed. We are discussing why I should help you do that. Not every man in the Deliverers court is a complete fool, Damajah. I may never enjoy the power I did with Ahmann, but I could still find protection and profit if I side with another.
I will grant you a permanent position at court, Inevera said. To witness firsthand every dealing you can twist into a way to fill your greedy pockets.
Better, Abban said, but I have spies throughout the Deliverers court. More than even you can root out.
Do not be so sure, Inevera said. But very well. I will offer something even you cannot refuse.
Oh? Abban seemed amused at the thought. In the bazaar, those words are a threat, but I think you will find I am not so easily bullied as I may appear.
No threats, Inevera said. No bullying. She smiled. At least not for coercion. They will be a promise, should you break our pact.
Abban grinned. You have my fullest attention. What does the Damajah think my heart desires above all?
Your leg, Inevera said.
Eh? Abban started.
I can heal your leg, Inevera said. Right now, if you wish. A simple matter. You could throw your crutch on the fire and walk out on two firm feet. She winked at him. Though if I know sly Abban, you would limp out the way you came, and never let any know until there was profit in doing so.
A doubtful look crossed the khaffits face. If such a simple matter, why didnt the damating heal me when it was first shattered? Why cost the Kaji a warrior by leaving me lame?
Because healing is the costliest of hora magics, Inevera said. At the time we did not have warded weapons to bring us an endless supply of alagai bones to power our spells. Even now, they must be rendered and treated, a difficult process. She circled a finger around her teacup. We cast the dice for you, all those years ago, to see if it was worth the price. Do you know what they said?
Abban sighed. That I was no warrior, and would provide little return on the investment.
Inevera nodded.
Abban shook his head, disappointed but unsurprised. It is true you have found something I want. I do not deny this is something my heart has longed for.
Then you accept? Inevera asked.
Abban drew a deep breath as if to speak, but held it instead. After a moment, he blew it out, seeming to deflate as he did. My father used to say, Love nothing so much you cannot leave it at the bargaining table. I know enough of the ancient tales to know that magic always has its price, and that price is ever higher than it appears. I have leaned on my crutch for twenty-five years. It is a part of me. Thank you for your offer, but I fear I must refuse.