Belina sipped her tea. 'The Andrah himself has not had a Damaji'ting wife in five generations. Even the Sharum Ka would be beneath me ...' She met Inevera's gaze with a hard one. '... and I would never accept being beneath you.'

Inevera nodded. 'And so the gift, at the command of my own dice. Blood to show you part of Everam's plan. Hold out your dice.'

Belina looked at her warily. Her hand went to her hora pouch, but whether it was to clutch it or draw forth protective magic, she seemed to have no intention of removing her dice. 'You offer me your husband's blood?' That would be an incredibly powerful gift one that could give Belina great power over Ahmann. Like asking about another's casting, it simply wasn't done.

But Inevera shook her head. 'Not his.' She drew her knife and sliced the meat at the base of her fist. 'Mine.' Belina gasped as Inevera held out the fist, blood welling into the first drop. 'Hold out your dice.'

No one trained in hora magic would pass up such an offer. This time, Belina obeyed instantly.

It's a start, Inevera thought.

Command what only a fool would refuse enough times, the Evejah'ting taught, and even the proudest Jiwah Sen will become accustomed to obedience.

Inevera watched the Andrah begin to wheeze as she danced for him. He was grossly fat, and seemed to labour under the weight of simply inflating his enormous chest.

He will have trouble performing. She had already laced his food and drink with potions to keep him aroused, but there was only so much that could be done with such a man.

When she had his robe off, she had to search under the rolls of his belly to even find his member, and it took all seven strokes to stiffen it enough for her to mount him. Twice, he came close to Heaven in her hands, but she pinched him down, knowing that her husband's fate depended on their union. When it was in, she made it quick, howling for his benefit, false sounds that barely covered her disgust, but nevertheless drove him to frenzy. With a twist and a clench, she finished him and left him panting in the pillows.

'Fine,' he gasped at last, struggling to rise and pull on his robes. 'The son of Hoshkamin will be the next Sharum Ka.'

Inevera was the palm, bending in the wind as she left, but when the curtains fell around her palanquin, the tree snapped, and she wept. She had known for years that she and Ahmann were fated to marry, but she had not anticipated falling in love with him.

Mere hours after Ahmann took the white turban of Sharum Ka and petitioned the Damaji for a bride from each tribe, Kenevah summoned Inevera to her office. The lesser tribes had been thrilled, their Damaji'ting all but drooling at the prospect of placing agents in the Sharum Ka's pillow chamber not yet knowing their own heirs would be chosen, and thus fall under Inevera's command.

But the Kaji had been first among the tribes for as long as any could remember, and Damaji Amadeveram had been enraged at the idea of mixing Kaji blood with that of a lesser tribe. Kenevah had given no sign in court, but her eyes were hard when Inevera entered.

'I had thought your husband clever when he made his mad request,' the old woman said. 'Imagine my surprise when my dice,' she rattled the bones in her hand, 'told me that you were behind the move.' She did not appear surprised.

Inevera said nothing, and this seemed to irritate the Damaji'ting even more.

'Are you mad?' the old woman snapped.

Inevera spread her hands, knowing the futility of the gesture, but required to attempt it all the same. 'Is this not what you wanted? What we spoke of, those many years ago? The Andrah and Sharum Ka are corrupt, you said, favouring the Kaji in ways that were dividing and killing our people. I swore to find a solution, and I have. Now there is a Sharum Ka who is brave and true of heart who will be bound to all the tribes.'

'And to you most of all,' Kenevah sneered. 'Do not think me such a fool as not to see it. And of the Andrah? Will you replace him, too? A few years' study in Sharik Hora doesn't make your upstart husband a dama.'

Inevera shrugged. 'Kaji was no dama. He rose out of the blood of alagai'sharak and united the world under his spear.'

Kenevah laughed. 'You think you're the first Inevera to try to fashion herself the next Damajah? The Damaji'ting histories are full of their bloody failures. Or are you fool enough to truly think your husband the Deliverer reborn?'

'I have seen futures where he is,' Inevera said. 'I will ensure they come to pass.'

'Will you?' Kenevah asked. 'How do you think he will react when he learns you had to sheathe the Andrah's own spear to win him the Spear Throne?'

Inevera felt her face grow cold. Kenevah knew? The gentle wind had become a sandstorm that could flay the bark from the supplest palm.

Again Kenevah laughed. 'You think you're special? That old pig has dama'ting offering to work his limp spear for favours every day. I bedded him myself, long before you were a cup of couzi in your father's pathetic hand. Brides of Everam have never been above whoring for a favour, though it seems you're better at it than most. Do you think Ahmann will strike you when he hears? It would be delicious irony to end your grab for power by putting your husband to death for hitting his dama'ting wife.'

Inevera felt a wave of fear pass over her. No blood runs hotter than a cuckolded Sharum, the Evejah'ting taught. It was possible Ahmann would fly into a rage and kill her or the Andrah or both. To take the Skull Throne he would need to kill the fat old man one day, but he would not be in a position to hold it until he had nie'dama sons in every tribe. A decade, at least.

'What do you want?' she asked.

'A vial of your husband's blood, to start,' Kenevah said. 'I will cast him myself-'

Inevera cut her off. 'Absolutely not.'

'You forget yourself, child,' Kenevah growled. 'I am still your mistress. You can refuse me nothing.'

Inevera whisked her hand dismissively. 'The dice have called no other girl. By law, I will be Damaji'ting on your death whether you support it or not.'

'If you live that long,' Kenevah said. 'I will have Ahmann Jardir's blood, even if I must drain yours first. If he is truly fated for greatness, perhaps he can still be of use as a eunuch after you are safely locked away.'

Inevera sighed. 'I had hoped to avoid this,' she said, pulling a flame demon skull from her hora pouch.

Kenevah threw back her head and cackled. 'A flame skull? You disappoint me, Inevera. I expected more of you.' No doubt there were anti-flame wards all around her desk. She spread her arms in the air, palms out to show they were empty. 'Strike. The dice will call another after I have killed you.' She shook her head and tsked. 'Such waste.'

'Indeed,' Inevera said, nodding. She turned and let loose a great blast of flame, but not at Kenevah. Instead she struck at the thick velvet curtains that covered the Damaji'ting's great windows. They burst into a roaring flame so intense they came apart in seconds. Bright sunlight poured in, bouncing from the smoke to reach every nook and corner.

A circle of hora around where Inevera stood, obviously meant to trap her, exploded, leaving burning holes in the thick carpets. There were more bangs on Kenevah's desk, and the old woman shrieked, pelted with burning shrapnel.

Inevera had already hidden her flame skull back in its protective pouch. She stalked calmly around the desk to stand in front of the old woman. The smoke stung her eyes and burned her lungs, but it was bearable. 'No magic to aid you, old crone. We will settle this with sharusahk.'

To her credit, the old woman did not hesitate. A lifetime of sharusahk was not easily forgotten, even if she had not fought another woman in decades. Her attack, wind snaps palm, was perfectly executed.

But it was slow. Her form might be perfect, but Kenevah was fifty years Inevera's senior, and it told in speed. Swaying branch diverted wind snaps palm and she stepped past, delivering a kick to the back of the old woman's knee. Her leg collapsed, and Inevera took hold and bore her down.

Kenevah twisted and actually managed to reverse the hold as they struck the floor. Sharusahk taught to steal free energy whenever possible, and even an old woman could be formidable, given enough force to divert. They rolled about in the smoke and dwindling flames, grunting and growling. There was a pounding at the door, but Inevera had barred it securely.

Kenevah proved more formidable than expected, but the outcome was not in doubt as Inevera ceased giving the Damaji'ting energy to steal and instead pitted muscle against muscle in a slow push until she achieved the desired hold. Seconds later she popped one of Kenevah's hips from the socket. The Damaji'ting's howl was cut short as Inevera worked her way around, wrapping her legs tightly about Kenevah's waist and reaching for the black veil that should have been hers long ago. She found it and pulled it tight around Kenevah's throat, holding the Damaji'ting prone as her face reddened and seemed to inflate. Soon the old woman's struggles ceased. Inevera held on a bit longer, then eased her grip and untied the silk.

She was holding the black hood and veil when the doors exploded in a blast of magic and Qeva and Enkido stepped in, followed by a dozen women, dama'ting and nie alike.

Qeva took in the destruction with horror in her eyes. Most of the flames had died out, but the room was filled with wreckage, charred and smoking. She took in the still form of her mother on the floor, stripped of her veil, and turned to Inevera with murder in her eyes.

'Kenevah was old and weak,' Inevera said loudly. 'It is time the black hood passed on.'

'How dare you?' Qeva demanded. Killing a Damaji'ting to open a succession was certainly not without precedent, but to do it so openly was unheard of. 'My mother and I taught you everything you know. For you to betray her after we took you in ...'

Inevera laughed. 'Took me in? I was not some beggar on the street or nie'ting. Do not reweave history to make yourself my saviour. You dragged me from my mother's arms without a word and threw me in a pit where your own daughter tried to kill me.' Melan was in the crowd, her clawed hand unmistakable. Inevera met her eyes, daring her to contradict.

'And when I did not turn out as she wished,' Inevera went on, 'Kenevah tried to have me killed. Seven times, the dice tell me. I at least gave her the courtesy of doing it face-to-face.'

'You lie,' Qeva growled.

Inevera shook her head. 'Why would I lie when my words are irrelevant? I am the only one the dice have called to succeed Kenevah. While I live, the Kaji dama'ting are mine.'

'If you live,' Qeva corrected, moving forward into a sharusahk stance. As she came out of the shadowed alcove, sunlight struck the hora she had used to blast open the doors, and the bone exploded in her hand. Qeva shrieked, and her concentration was lost as the concussion knocked her from her feet.

Inevera moved swiftly to finish her while she was distracted. A quick kill, and then only Melan could make a claim against her.

But Enkido stepped between them, delivering a camel kick that sent Inevera sprawling across the room.

'Kill her!' Qeva commanded as Inevera struggled to her feet.

'You would have a eunuch settle who leads the women of our tribe?' Inevera asked loudly. As she'd hoped, all eyes snapped to Qeva for her response. In that moment she slipped her hand into her hora pouch, clutching a bit of warded bone tightly in her fist, careful that no light should strike it.

'You are not worthy to lead if you cannot defeat Enkido,' Qeva growled. 'My mother made him to be her spear beyond the grave.'

Inevera had no time for a retort as Enkido came in fast and hard, his sharusahk like nothing she had ever seen. The size and ferocity of a Sharum, the grace of a dama, and the precision of a dama'ting. She had never once sensed anger in the man, but it radiated from him now.

All Sharum must avenge the death of their dama master, even if it mean their death, the Evejah taught, and Kenevah had been no less his master for being a woman. She had mutilated him, crippled him, but Enkido loved sharusahk above all, and she had given him that to his heart's content. Enkido came at Inevera with everything he had, and she had to admit without the aid of magic he would have been the end of her.

But the warded bit of demon bone in her hand pumped raw magic up her arm, flooding her limbs with strength and speed beyond anything mere flesh and bone could duplicate. She could sense Enkido's confusion as his first strike missed and she jabbed stiffened fingers at his kidney.

It should have been a telling blow, but it was her turn to be surprised. Enkido was armoured. Her fingers struck one of the hard ceramic plates Sharum wore sewn into their robes in the Maze. She felt it shatter on impact, but the force of her blow went with it, leaving her fingers aching.

She managed to evade his return strike, barely, but he reversed again, catching her with a backhand blow to the face that cracked her head back like a whip. His following kick broke ribs and sent her crashing into Kenevah's burning desk, which collapsed under her weight. There was a collective gasp from the crowd gathering in the office, encircling them.

Inevera had to strain to keep her fist tight and not lose the hora stone as she absorbed the impact, tucking into a ball and using some of the energy to roll to her feet past the wreckage. Enkido came on, but she had firm footing, and did not underestimate him again.

Back and forth they paced, Enkido striking and missing, Inevera landing quick blows in return that were largely shrugged off or turned by his armour. Both were wary now, and gave no real openings, no free energy. Inevera glanced at Qeva, waiting patiently just inside the ring of women around their battle, fresh and ready to take up where Enkido left off, should he be defeated.

And she would have hora of her own.

Enkido came at her with wilting flower, and Inevera could have slipped away, but on impulse she let the blow strike home. Her leg collapsed and Enkido pounced to take advantage, but Inevera drew on the power of the demon bone, restoring strength to her wilted limb. She came up at him hard, jabbing fingers into a space between his armour plates and causing him to clench his abdomen reflexively. While he was bent she landed several precise strikes to the lines of power in his neck and shoulder, then broke his knee with a hard stomp.

The eunuch did not cry out as he fell to the ground, even as much as a tongueless man might. He struggled to rise again, but though the strain showed in his brow, his remaining limbs would not obey. He calmed then, breathing deeply and looking up at her with quiet dignity, unafraid as he waited for her to finish him.

But Inevera had no interest in killing the eunuch. 'You have honoured your mistress, Sharum, but Everam still has a plan for you.' She felt the hora in her hands crumble into dust, drained, and wondered if she would regret the mercy. She was already labouring for breath, coughing in the smoky air.

Qeva took a sharusahk stance, but Inevera did not respond in kind.

'Are we blind dama, following the most skilled fighter?' Inevera asked the assembled women. 'The Evejah'ting gave us the alagai hora that we might never descend into such savagery.'

She looked at Qeva. 'It was you who first cast the bones for me. You who pulled me in when you could easily have turned me away. Why? What did you see?'

'Your future was hidden,' Qeva said. 'It was that, my mother told me to seek.'

Inevera nodded. She had known as much. 'It is hidden no longer. Cast the bones again. Now, in the Chamber of Shadows for all to see.'

Qeva's eyes widened at that, then narrowed, sensing a trap. A frantic whispering broke out among the surrounding women, and it closed on her.

Command what only a fool would refuse.

The two contenders for the black hood led the way down into the underpalace, followed by every woman and girl in the palace. When they had barred themselves into the chamber, out of sight of men, Qeva produced her dice and moved up to Inevera, hatred in her eyes. 'Just a few drops of your blood now, but don't fear, I shall take the rest before the day is out.'

Inevera lifted her veil, spitting blood from her split lip onto Qeva's dice. She didn't think it was possible to double the woman's rage, but she could see in her eyes that she had managed it. I am sorry, Qeva, but you must be broken like a Jiwah Sen for all to see.

The assembly held their breath as Qeva shook the dice and chanted her prayers. The hora glowed fiercely, casting a sinister light over the crowd, but Inevera did not fear it, or them. She stood tall over Qeva as she knelt. A single well-placed kick could kill the woman while she was intent on the casting, but Inevera had no wish to kill Qeva, even less than she had Enkido. Honour demanded Qeva kill her, but Inevera's dice had told her more of the woman's heart.

You are more daughter to Qeva than her own get. She may kill you, but she will never betray you.- Qeva threw, and as the dice settled, the other women lost composure, Bride and Betrothed alike moving forward in a rush to see the pattern.

Some, like Qeva and Melan, saw the heart of it immediately and gasped, much as Belina and the others had. Most stared at the dice for several moments before their meaning became clear.

Qeva looked up at her, and Inevera held out the black hood. It was a paltry thing, and she had no interest in it. In truth, she never had. It was a rung in a ladder she had only to grasp long enough to leave behind her.

'You will wear the black hood, sister Qeva,' she said, and turned to Melan. 'And you, sister Melan, the black veil. I have my husband to see to, and little interest in Kaji tea politics. I have my own palace, and higher goals.'

Qeva nodded, reaching for the hood. Inevera moved it slightly out of reach, and there was an intake of breath around the room.

'You will speak for the Kaji at court,' Inevera said, 'but though it be your voice, the words will be mine.'

Qeva bowed. 'Yes, Damajah.' She reached again, and this time Inevera allowed her to take the hood.

She held the black veil to Melan, who bowed even more deeply. 'Yes, Damajah.'

Inevera raised the veil, forcing Melan's eyes to rise to meet hers. 'You are not to speak that name aloud.' Her voice carried throughout the chamber, but she turned, meeting the eyes of each woman and girl in turn. 'None of you not yet.'

Three more times over the next six months, Inevera needed decrees from the Andrah, and each time he took payment the same way. He pawed at her boldly now, like she was some pillow wife. When he dared to bite her breast, she nearly stabbed him.

Long enough, she thought. Ahmann has made his name. The Andrah cannot take the white turban back, and no decree is worth this.

That morning she called Qasha, her Sharach Jiwah Sen and Ahmann's favourite, to her.

'I will invite the Andrah again tonight,' she said. 'Let slip to Ahmann that he visits the Palace of the Sharum Ka while its master is away. I want Ahmann to find us together. It is time to teach the Andrah to fear, and time for Ahmann to learn more of his destiny. I will suffer the fat man's touches no longer.'

11.

Last Meal

333 AR Summer

28 Dawns Before New Moon