The Daylight War (101 page)

Outside the room, there was a crack, and a cry. Damaji Qezan had forgotten his lessons on embracing pain, it seemed. This refresher was a good one. Aleverak scolded his weakness, and the next blow was borne with only a gasp. The third in silence.

Not bothering to light a lamp, Inevera moved to close the thick curtains that hung beside the room’s great windows. As she shrouded them in darkness, Jardir’s senses came alive.

The Crown of Kaji had always conveyed wardsight, much as the coins on Inevera’s brow, but ever since the fight with the mind demon when the greater powers of his crown came alive, he had begun to see more – auras surrounding people that told him their feelings and gave him insight into their motives. Suddenly the infinite wisdom of Kaji began to make sense. With the crownsight to see the hearts of his people, Jardir could be a greater leader by far.

More, he realized that he could tap into the power of the crown and spear at will. During the day, he could pull power from the ancient artefacts to heal himself, ignore exhaustion, or give himself superhuman strength and speed. It was a powerful advantage, but not without its limitations.

In the darkness, many of those limitations faded away. He was powerful like he never dreamed possible, but, with Waning approaching, he feared in his heart it was still not enough.

Inevera moved to her favoured casting pillow, and Jardir moved to take the one facing as was his habit. Outside, Damaji Ichach’s punishment had begun, and the cleric shamed himself by weeping. Jardir turned his attention from it as Inevera drew the curved blade that had cut him countless times over the years.

‘What shall I ask first?’ she said.

Her aura pulsed on the word
first
,
and Jardir knew she had already used the dice for her own purposes. It was not a lie precisely, but it told him much. Inevera had always kept her own plans a mystery while insisting she be privy to his.

Jardir rolled his sleeve and held out his arm. She pressed the sharp point into a vein and tipped a small bowl to catch the flow. When it was full, she pressed her thumb against the vein and reached for her herb pouch.

‘There is no need,’ Jardir said, pulling a touch of power from the spear resting beside him. He lifted his arm from her grasp, showing that the blood flow had ceased and the wound closed. Inevera eyed the healing in surprise, but he gave her no time to question. ‘Let us begin with Abban’s plan to assault Docktown on first snow. Those plans must be set in motion soon, if we are to have the advantage of surprise.’

Hatred skittered across Inevera’s aura at the mention of Abban. He knew she blamed the
khaffit
for their rift, and did not trust him. She was eager to prove her worth by showing him the errors in the plan and offering better advice in turn.

But these were surface feelings. At her centre she was calm as she reached for the dice, spilling a bit of his blood upon them as she whispered her prayers and shook. As always, the evil glow pulsing between her fingers unsettled him.

Inevera cast the dice down and spent a few moments staring at them, studying the pattern. Jardir studied her in turn, searching her aura for hints of truth behind her coming words. She was not pleased with the results. This much was clear.

‘You cannot go back,’ she said, staring at the patterns. ‘And you cannot afford to stand still. The only way is forward. The
khaffit
’s,’ she hissed the word, ‘plan will spare many lives.’

‘More to stand in Sharak Ka,’ Jardir said.

‘Or oppose you later,’ Inevera noted. It was good advice, but her aura said it was spoken more in bitterness at having to admit Abban was right.

‘That is a risk I must take,’ Jardir said. ‘What else do the dice say? Tell me everything for once, and spare me the dissembling!’

Inevera’s aura flashed at him, telling him to step wisely. She wanted to impress him, but her pride was a mountain. He could not bully her as he did the
Damaji
.

‘Doom befall the armies of the Deliverer if they should march north with enemies unconquered at their back.’ She tilted her head, examining the dice from another angle. ‘You cannot take your forces to the Hollow without first taking Lakton, nor Angiers without the Hollow beside you.’

‘Of that, at least, I am unconcerned,’ Jardir said. ‘The Hollow tribe will follow me when called.’

An image of Mistress Leesha hovered ghostlike above Inevera, connected to her by anger, jealousy, and hate. It was a vision he had seen before, but there was genuine doubt beneath this veneer. Inevera did not believe the Hollow as secure as he did. She thought him a fool to be so trusting. ‘You will not have the loyalty of the Hollow until you kill the Painted Man. The one they call Deliverer.’

It was clear from her aura that this was her opinion and not that of the dice, but it was sound advice. Leesha loved him, he did not doubt, and was fated to marry him and bring him her tribe, but it would not happen without confronting this false Deliverer and throwing him down.

He nodded. ‘Is there anything else?’

Irritation skittered along Inevera’s aura, never touching her face or bearing. Her eyes drifted along the dozens of facing symbols, all glowing with varying degrees of brightness, following paths of meaning. He recognized some symbols, but their meaning had ever been beyond him. Sometimes he thought to command the
dama’ting
teach him to read the dice, but knew they would baulk, and Inevera find a way to prevent it. Even the Evejah said it was a woman’s art.

Finally, Inevera spoke. ‘You must lead your armies if they are to achieve victory in the Daylight War, but do not leave the Skull Throne vacant too long. You have fifty-two sons, and they will all eye it hungrily.’

Jardir frowned. Jayan and Asome coveted the throne, he knew. Perhaps making the boy Andrah was best after all. ‘Are any of my sons worthy to sit it in my absence, and willing to stand back up upon my return?’

Inevera cut her own hand, dripping her own blood on the dice in addition to Jardir’s as she cast again. She studied the pattern for only a moment before looking up. ‘No.’

‘No?’ Jardir asked. ‘Just “no”?’

Inevera shrugged. ‘It is not as I would have it, either, husband, but the dice are clear. I have cast the dice for thousands of men, and never found another with your potential.’

There. It was clear in her aura, shining like a beacon through her mask of
dama’ting
serenity.

She was lying. There was another.

Anger filled him. Who was this man, or boy? Why was she protecting him? Did she mean to supplant him if he should prove too difficult to control?

He embraced the feeling as quickly as it came, showing no sign. He was not a manipulator like Inevera or Abban, dissembling with half-truths, omissions, and leading statements, but he was learning to keep his thoughts to himself, giving them no thread to spin, much as he denied opponents energy to turn against him in
sharusahk
. He set aside the concern for later. For now, he had more pressing questions.

‘How can I throw back my enemies in the coming Waning?’ he asked.

Again Inevera wet the dice with his blood and cast the bones to the floor. She saw something that made her aura become one of sharp concentration, crawling on her knees to study the pattern from all sides. Her gossamer clothing pulled tight, presenting her much as she was in lovemaking, but her growing aura of fear drove such thoughts from his mind. She was seeing something she did not wish to tell him, and was searching for a way out of it. He wanted to shout at her, to demand what she was seeing, but forced himself to remain calm.

At last she looked at him. ‘The Deliverer must go into the night alone to hunt the centre of the web, or all will be lost when Alagai Ka and his princelings come. But even if you survive, there will be a heavy price.’

He looked at her, seeing the fear in her aura reach out and clutch at him. She did not want him to risk himself. Was it born of love, or was her replacement simply not ready? There was no way to know. He hated himself for considering the latter, but she had already deceived him more than once.

‘Princelings?’ he asked instead. ‘How many? What web?’

‘Seven will rise, one for each layer of Nie’s abyss,’ Inevera said, ‘but only three will strike at Everam’s Bounty.’

‘“Only”, you say.’ Jardir shook his head. ‘Everam’s beard. One nearly proved our undoing.’

‘You were not prepared then,’ Inevera said.

‘It infiltrated the palace, Inevera,’ Jardir said. ‘Slipped past the work of our finest Warders like it was nothing.’

‘We have added protections since,’ Inevera said. ‘The
alagai
princes will not penetrate our warding so easily now, and I will cast the dice to find the weakest points of our net and bolster them.’

Jardir nodded. ‘And this web?’

Inevera shrugged. ‘Of that, I can tell you nothing.’

‘No attempts to dissuade me from this course?’ he asked.

His
Jiwah
Ka
shook her head sadly. ‘It is
inevera
. Sharak Ka is yours to win, husband.’

Or
lose.
Inevera did not speak the words, but they were clear in her aura. His success was by no means assured.

‘Where will the demons strike hardest?’ Jardir asked, his most pressing question. ‘Where should I position my forces?’

Inevera cast again, staring for a long time at the result. At last, she sighed. ‘I do not know. There are too many variables. I will try again in the coming days.’

‘Every day,’ Jardir said. ‘A hundred times if you must. Nothing is more important.’

Inevera bowed slightly, lifting the dice one last time. ‘We will cast now for the coming day.’

Jardir nodded. This was a practice they had done nightly for almost twenty years. Some days, the dice told him nothing – at least, nothing Inevera chose to share – but others they warned of hidden knives and poison, or when to be ready to seize an advantage.

Inevera tipped the last of his blood onto the dice and shook as she said the words Jardir had heard countless times. ‘Everam, giver of light and life, I beseech you, give this lowly servant knowledge
of what is to come. Tell me of Ahmann, son of Hoshkamin, last scion of the line of Jardir, the seventh son of Kaji.’

She threw, and the dice scattered wide, symbols pulsing in patterns he could not hope to comprehend.

‘You will give the
dama’ting
a powerful gift today,’ Inevera said.

‘Kind of me,’ Jardir noted. He saw no deception in his wife, but that did not mean his gift would be a willing one, rather than something duped from him.

Inevera gave no indication she had heard him. ‘You will gain warriors tonight, but lose others on the morrow.’

‘Gain at night?’ Jardir asked. ‘Lose during the day? How is this possible?’

‘I do not know,’ Inevera said, but Jardir could see in her aura that her words were only half true, and had to suppress a flash of anger. What secrets was she hiding? How was he to lead their people to victory when his own wife kept secrets about his warriors?

As they had frequently in recent weeks, his thoughts turned to Leesha Paper. The woman could be vexing in her own ways, but he did not believe she had ever lied to him. He wished she was here by his side, not this … tunnel asp.

‘Not long after sunrise tomorrow, an unexpected Messenger will bring you ill tidings,’ Inevera went on.

‘That happens every day,’ Jardir said, hardly caring any more.

Inevera shook her head. ‘This one has passed through death to see his missive delivered.’

That got Jardir’s attention, and he looked up at her as she squinted at the dice. ‘His message will bring you pain.’

He saw no deception in her, but as she spoke the words, her aura pulsed. There was nothing in her expression, no outward sign, but to his eyes it was plain as day.

Empathy. Without even knowing the cause, her heart had cried out for him, when she realized he would be hurt. His pain was her pain.

He reached out to her, his anger gone, and gently touched her face. She looked at him, and her aura had never shone so bright.

Whatever else she might feel, wherever her loyalties might lie, she loved him.

Oh, my
Jiwah Ka, Jardir thought sadly.
How
I
have
wronged
you.

‘The Deliverer is not to be disturbed,
khaffit
!’ Jardir heard Hasik’s growl even through the covered walls and door of Inevera’s pillow chamber. With the crown atop his head, he could hear the wind buffeting the wings of birds high in the sky, and his
ajin’pal
was not a quiet man.

Jardir sat up, waking Inevera in the process.
Abban
.

He looked at Inevera and smiled, trying to convey all the love he felt for her, and knowing it fell short. Inevera’s return smile was genuine, and her aura gave back his love with equal fervour.

He kissed her again. ‘Duty calls, beloved.’