Inevera began to wonder how much control she could keep if Aleverak ascended to the throne.
But again Ashan surprised her, taking a similar stance to Aleverak and focusing his efforts on defense. His feet beat rapidly on the marble floor, back and forth, keeping Aleverak dancing but always stopping short of full attacks that might give the aged Damaji free energy to turn against him. Again and again Aleverak struck at him, but Ashan batted his hand aside every time, keeping up the dance. Aleveraks kicks were dodged, or blocked smoothly with thighs, shins, and forearms.
He kept it up, his aura calm, until, at last, Aleverak began to tire. Whatever reserves of energy the ancient Damaji had called upon depleted, and his moves began to slow.
When he next stepped forward, he was not quick enough to stop Ashan from stomping on his foot, pinning it. Aleverak stabbed his right hand in, but Ashan caught the wrist, holding it as he snapped his hips around to add torque to a devastating punch to the chest with his now recovered right arm.
Aleverak gasped and stumbled, but Ashan locked his arm and added several more punches before his opponent could recover, driving sharp knuckles into the shoulder joint of the Damajis one arm. He swept Aleveraks feet from him and put him down hard on his back. The retort as he struck the marble echoed throughout the chamber.
Aleverak looked up at Ashan, his eyes hard. Well done, Andrah. Finish me with honor and take your place atop the steps.
Ashan looked at the ancient Damaji sadly. It was an honor to face you, Damaji. Your fame among the masters of sharusahk is well earned. But tradition does not demand I kill you. Only that I clear you from my path.
He began to turn away, but Aleveraks aura flared, as close to a loss of control as Inevera had ever seen. He clutched the hem of Ashans robe with quivering fingers.
Maji is still in his bido! Aleverak coughed. Kill me and let Aleveran have the black turban. No harm will come to the Deliverers son.
Ashan glanced up to Inevera at this. It was a tempting offer. Maji would be safe from the foolish vow Ahmann had made, but in exchange the Majah would have a younger Damaji who might rule for decades to come. She gave a slight shake of her head.
Apologies, Damaji, Ashan said, pulling his robe free of the old mans grasp, but the Deliverer still has need of you in this world. It is not yet your time to walk the lonely path. And should any harm come to the Deliverers Majah son apart from an open challenge in court on the hour of your natural death, my respect for you will not stop me from having your entire male line killed. He turned again, striding for the seven steps leading to the Skull Throne.
Asome met him there, blocking the path.
Inevera hissed. What was the fool boy doing?
Apologies, Uncle. Asome gave a formal sharusahk bow. I trust you understand this is not personal. You have been as a father to me, but I am the eldest dama son of the Deliverer, and have as much right as any assembled to challenge you.
Ashan seemed genuinely taken aback, but he did not dispute the claim. He bowed in return. Of course, nephew. Your honor is boundless. But I would not leave my daughter a widow, nor my grandson without his father. I ask this once that you step aside.
Asome shook his head sadly. Nor would I leave my cousin and wife without a father. My aunt without a husband. Renounce your claim and allow me to ascend.
Jayan leapt to his feet. What is this?! I demand !
Silence! Inevera shouted. There was no need to enhance her voice this time, the sound echoing around the room. Asome, attend me!
Asome turned, climbing the steps swiftly to stand before Ineveras bed of pillows. There was a flare in his aura as he passed by the throne. Was it covetousness? Inevera filed the information away in her mind as she manipulated polished stones on a small pedestal beside her, covering some wards and uncovering others. She could use the stones to control a number of effects, powered by hora placed around the room, and now placed a wall of silence around her pillows, that none save her son should hear her words.
You must give up this foolish claim, my son, Inevera said. Ashan will kill you. Having seen Asomes sharusahk, she wasnt certain this was true, but now was not the time to flatter the young man.
Have faith, Mother, Asome said. I have waited my entire life for this day, and I will prevail.
You will not, Inevera said. Because you will not continue your challenge. This is not what Everam wants. Or your father. Or I.
If Everam does not wish me to take the throne, I will not, Asome said. And if He does, then it should be Fathers and your wish as well.
Wait, my son, Inevera said. I beg you. We have always meant the jeweled turban for you, but it is too soon. Jayan will drive the Sharum into revolt if you take it now.
Then I will kill him, too, Asome said.
And rule over a civil war with Sharak Ka on our heels, Inevera said. No. I will not allow you to kill your brother. If you persist, I will cast you down myself. Recant, and you will have the succession on Ashans death. I swear it.
Announce it now, Asome said. Before all assembled, or cast me down as you say. My honor will be appeased with nothing else.
Inevera drew a deep breath, letting it fill her, and flow back out, taking her emotions with it. She nodded, sliding the stones on her pedestal to remove the veil of silence.
Upon Ashans death, Asome will have the right to challenge the Damaji for the jeweled turban.
Jayans aura swirled with emotion. The anger was still present, but he seemed mollified for the moment. There was no telling what he would have done if his younger brother had been given the chance to fight for a throne that sat higher than his. But seeing Asome thwarted had always brought Jayan pleasure. Ashan was not yet forty, and would stand between Asome and ascension long enough for Jayan to claim his fathers crown.
He stamped his spear loudly on the marble, and turned without leave to exit the throne room. His kaiSharum followed obediently behind, and Inevera could see in them, and many of the Damaji, a belief that the Deliverers eldest son had been robbed of his birthright. The Sharum worshipped Jayan, and they outnumbered the dama greatly. He would be a growing danger.
But for the moment he was dealt with, and Inevera felt the wind ease as Ashan at last climbed the dais to sit the Skull Throne. He looked out at the assembled advisors and said the words Inevera had instructed, though she could tell they were sour on his lips.
It is an honor to hold the throne for the SharDama Ka, blessings be upon his name. I will keep the Deliverers court much as he left it, with Damaji Aleverak speaking for the council, and Abban the khaffit retaining his position as court scribe and master of logistics. As before, any that dare hinder or harm him or his interests will find no mercy from the Skull Throne.
Inevera twitched a finger to Belina, and the Majah Damajiting stepped forward with hora to heal Aleverak. Soon the Damaji was rising shakily back to his feet. The disorientation would soon pass, leaving him even stronger than before. His first act was a bow of submission to the Skull Throne.
Satisfying as that submission was, it was nothing compared to the flick of Ashans eyes to her, obviously asking if this scene was at its end. She gave a subtle nod and Ashan dismissed the Damaji and moved to meet with Asukaji and Asome, as well as his advisors, Halvan and Shevali.
Little sisters, Inevera said, and the Damajiting remained as the men filtered out, clustering at the base of the dais to take private audience with her.
You did not tell all, Damajah. My dice foretell that Ahmann may never return. Belina kept her voice steady, but her aura was like a raw nerve. Most of the Damajiting appeared the same. They had lost not only a leader, but a husband as well.
What has happened? Truly? Qasha asked. Less disciplined than Belina, the Sharach Damajiting could not keep her voice steady. The last word cracked with a whine like a flaw forming in glass.
Ahmann spared the Parchin in secret after claiming the spear, Inevera said, disapproval in her tone. The man survived and challenged him to Domin Sharum.
The women began to chatter at this. Domin Sharum literally meant two warriors, the name given to the ritual duel first fought by Kaji himself against his murderous half brother Majah three thousand years ago. It was said they battled for seven days and nights atop Nies Breast, the tallest of the southern mountains.
The women began to chatter at this. Domin Sharum literally meant two warriors, the name given to the ritual duel first fought by Kaji himself against his murderous half brother Majah three thousand years ago. It was said they battled for seven days and nights atop Nies Breast, the tallest of the southern mountains.
Surely there is more to the tale than that, Damajiting Qeva said. I have trouble believing any man could defeat the SharDama Ka in fair combat.
The other women voiced their assent. No man nor demon they could imagine could stand against Ahmann, especially with the Spear of Kaji in his hands.
The Parchin has covered his skin in inked wards, Inevera said. I do not understand it fully, but the symbols have given him terrifying powers, not unlike a demon himself. Ahmann held sway in battle and would have won, but as the sun set the Parchin began misting like an alagai rising from the abyss, and the SharDama Kas blows could not touch him. The Parchin cast them both from the cliff, and their bodies were never found.
Qasha gave out a wail at that. Damajiting Justya of the Shunjin moved to comfort her, but she, too, had begun to sob. All around the semicircle of women, there was weeping.
Silence! Inevera hissed, her enhanced voice cutting through the sobs like a lash. You are Damajiting, not some pathetic dalting jiwah, weeping tear bottles over dead Sharum. Krasia depends on us. We must trust that Ahmann will return, and keep his empire intact until he can reclaim it.
And if he does not? Damajiting Qeva asked, her words a calm breeze. She alone of the Damajiting had not lost a husband.