The Desert Spear

do well not to remember him, either.”
    Abban nodded, bowing as low as his crutch would allow.
    “I will see for myself,” Jardir decided, “and you will come with me.” Everyone looked at him in surprise. “Hasik, find Shanjat. Tell him to assemble the Spears of the Deliverer.” Jardir’s Maze unit had taken the name when they became his personal bodyguard. The Spears of the Deliverer were fifty of the finest
dal’Sharum
in Krasia, serving under
kai’Sharum
Shanjat.
    Hasik bowed, leaving immediately.
    “Are you certain this is wise, Deliverer?” Ashan asked. “It is not safe to separate yourself from your armies in enemy lands.”
    “Nothing in life is safe for those who fight Sharak Ka,” Jardir said. He put a hand on Ashan’s shoulder. “But if you are concerned, you may come with me, my friend.”
    Ashan bowed deeply.
    “This is foolishness,” Aleverak growled. “A thousand weakling
chin
can overwhelm even the Spears of the Deliverer.”
    Jayan snorted. “I doubt that very much, old man.”
    Aleverak turned to Jardir, who nodded his permission. The ancient
Damaji
reached out to Jayan, and suddenly the boy was on his back.
    “I’ll kill you for that, old man,” Jayan growled, rolling quickly to his feet.
    “Try it, boy,” Aleverak dared, setting his feet in a
sharusahk
stance and beckoning with his one arm. Jayan snarled, but at the last moment, he glanced at his father.
    Jardir smiled. “By all means, try and kill him.”
    A vicious smile broke out on Jayan’s face, but a moment later he was back on the floor, Aleverak pulling on his arm to increase the slow pressure of his heel on Jayan’s windpipe.
    “Enough,” Jardir said, and Aleverak immediately released the hold and stepped back. Jayan coughed and rubbed his throat as he rose.
    “Even my own sons must respect the
Damaji,
Jayan,” Jardir warned. “You would be wise to hold your tongue in the future.”
    He turned to Aleverak. “The
Damaji
will rule Everam’s Bounty in my absence, with you leading the council.”
    Aleverak narrowed his eyes, as if deciding whether or not to continue his protest. Finally, he bowed deeply. “As the Shar’Dama Ka commands. Who will speak for the Kaji until Damaji Ashan returns?”
    “My son, Dama Asukaji,” Ashan said, nodding to the young man. Asukaji was not yet eighteen, but he was old enough for the white robe, which meant he was old enough for the black turban, if he was strong enough to hold it.
    Jardir nodded. “And if Jayan will be humble, he will serve as Sharum Ka.”
    All eyes turned to Jayan, whose face betrayed his shock. After a moment, he put one hand and one knee on the ground, perhaps for the first time in his life. “I will serve the council of
Damaji,
of course.”
    Jardir nodded. “See to it the lesser tribes continue to subjugate the
chin
while I am gone,” he said to Asukaji and Aleverak. “I need fresh warriors for Sharak Ka, not bickering tribes stealing one another’s wells.” The two men bowed.
    Inevera rose from her bed of pillows, her face serene behind the diaphanous veil.
    “I would speak to my husband in private,” she said.
    Ashan bowed. “Of course, Damajah.” He ushered the others quickly out of the room, all save Asome, who stood fast behind.
    “Something troubles you, my son?” Jardir asked when the others were gone.
    Asome bowed. “If Jayan is to be Sharum Ka while you are gone, then by rights I should be Andrah.”
    Inevera laughed. Asome’s eyes narrowed, but he knew better than to cross her.
    “That would put you above your elder brother, my son,” Jardir said. “Something no father does lightly. And Sharum Ka are appointed. Andrah is a title that must be earned.”
    Asome shrugged. “Summon the
Damaji.
I will kill them all, if that is what is required.”
    Jardir looked into his son’s eyes, seeing ambition, but also a fierce pride that might indeed carry the boy, barely past his eighteenth born day, through eleven death challenges, even if it meant killing one of his own brothers or Asukaji, who was his closest friend and rumored to be his lover. Asome’s white robe might forbid him to touch a weapon, but he was deadlier than Jayan by far, and even Aleverak would do well to step carefully around him.
    Jardir felt a swell of pride in the boy. Already he thought his second son might well prove a better successor than Jayan, but not until he was seasoned, and firstborn Jayan would never allow his brother to surpass him while he