The Desert Spear

and sending each to a different level. The boys darted up the uneven stairs as easily as they ran the walltops of the Maze.
    It quickly became apparent that Abban had been right. There were signs of demons in almost every building, claw marks on walls and furniture and signs of struggle everywhere.
    “No bodies, though,” Abban noted.
    “Eaten,” Jardir said, pointing to what appeared to be black stone with a few bits of white sticking from it, sitting on the floor.
    “What’s that?” Abban asked.
    “Demon dung,” Jardir said. “
Alagai
eat their victims whole and shit out the bones.” Abban slapped a hand to his mouth, but it was not enough. He ran to the side of the room to retch.
    They reported their findings to Drillmaster Kaval, who nodded as if this were no surprise. “Walk at my back,
Nie Ka,
” he said, and Jardir followed him as the drillmaster walked over to where Dama Khevat stood with the
kai’Sharum.
    “The
nie’Sharum
confirm there are no survivors, Dama,” Kaval said. The
kai’Sharum
outranked him, but Kaval was a drillmaster and had likely trained every warrior on the expedition, including the
kai’Sharum.
As it was said,
The words of the red veil carry more weight than the white.
    Dama Khevat nodded. “The
alagai
cursed the ground when they broke through the wards, trapping the spirits of the dead
khaffit
in this world. I can feel their screams in the air.” He looked up at Kaval. “A Waning is upon us. We will spend the first two days and nights preparing the village and praying.”
    “And on the third night of Waning?” Kaval asked.
    “On the third night, we will dance
alagai’sharak,
” Khevat said, “to hallow the ground and set their spirits free, that they might be reincarnated in hope of a better caste.”
    Kaval bowed. “Of course, Dama.” He looked up at the stairs and buildings built into the cliff face, and the wide courtyard beneath leading down to the riverbank. “It will be mostly clay demons here,” he guessed, “though likely a few wind and sand as well.” He turned to the
kai’Sharum.
“With your permission, I will have the
dal’Sharum
dig warded demon pits in the courtyard, and set ambush points on the stairs to drive the
alagai
off the cliff and into the pits to await the sun.”
    The
kai’Sharum
nodded, and the drillmaster turned to Jardir. “Set the
nie’Sharum
to clearing the buildings of any debris we can make into barricades.” Jardir nodded and turned to go, but Kaval caught his arm. “See that they loot nothing,” he warned. “All must go as sacrifice to
alagai’sharak.
”

    “You and I will clear the first level,” Jardir told Abban.
    “Seven is a luckier number,” Abban said. “Let Jurim and Shanjat clear the first.”
    Jardir looked at Abban’s leg skeptically. Abban had managed to keep up with the march, but his limp had not gone away, and Jardir often saw him massaging the limb when he thought no one was watching.
    “I thought the first would be an easier ascent, with your leg not fully healed,” Jardir said.
    Abban put his hands on his hips. “My friend, you wound me!” he said. “I am fit as the finest camel in the bazaar. You were right to push me to exceed myself each day, and a climb to the seventh level will only help.”
    Jardir shrugged. “As you wish,” he said, and they set off climbing the steps after he had given instructions to the other
nie’Sharum.
    The irregular stone steps of Baha were cut into the cliff face, shored at key points with sandstone and clay. They were sometimes as narrow as a man’s foot, and other times required many paces to the next step. Worn stone showed the passage of many laden wagons pulled by beasts of burden. The steps changed direction with each tier, branching off a path to the buildings of that level.
    They had not gone far before Abban’s breath labored, his round face beading with sweat. His limp grew worse, and by the fifth level he was hissing in pain with every step.
    “Perhaps we’ve gone far enough for one day,” Jardir ventured.
    “Nonsense, my friend,” Abban said. “I am…” he groaned and blew out a breath, “...strong as a camel.”
    Jardir smiled and slapped him on the back. “We’ll make a warrior of you yet.”
    They reached the seventh level at last, and Jardir turned to look out over the low wall. Far below, the
dal’Sharum
bent their backs, digging wide demon pits with short spades. The pits were set right at the edge of the first tier,