The Desert Spear

held him in place with one hand as he watched what was transpiring, an amused grin on his face.
    “What is going on here?” Jardir demanded. “Where is the woman?”
    Before any of the
Sharum
could answer, there was another cry, coming from an alley between the buildings. “Any warrior touching one of the greenlanders when I return will lose the offending hands!” he shouted as he charged to the alley, flying past the others at blinding speed.
    Wonda was in the alleyway, held from behind by a warrior who howled as she bit into his arm. Another warrior lay on the ground, clutching between his legs, and a third, Jurim, leaned against the wall, staring in horror at an arm twisted in an impossible direction.
    “Release her!” Jardir roared, and everyone looked up at him. Wonda was released instantly, and she drove an elbow into the stomach of the warrior behind her, doubling him over as she reached for the knife at her belt.
    Jardir pointed his spear at her. “Do not,” he warned. Just then, Leesha made it to the alley, gasping at the sight. She ran to Wonda immediately.
    “What happened?” Leesha asked.
    “Those sons of the Core tried to rape me!” Wonda said.
    “The Northern whore lies, Deliverer,” Jurim spat. “She attacked us and broke my arm! I demand her life!”
    “You expect us to believe that Wonda lured the three of you here and attacked you?” Leesha demanded.
    Jardir ignored them both. It was obvious what had happened. He had hoped Wonda’s prowess on the battlefield would impress the warriors enough to dissuade this sort of behavior, but Jurim and the others had apparently felt the need to remind her that off the battlefield, she was still a woman, and an unmarried one at that. By Evejan law, she had no right to refuse a
Sharum
or attack a man for any reason. Jurim and the others had committed no crime, and were within their rights to demand the girl’s life.
    But the greenlanders did not see it that way, Jardir knew, and he needed their warriors, man and women alike, for Sharak Ka. He glanced at Leesha and knew, too, that not all his reasons were selfless. The
Sharum
would have to be taught to control themselves. An abject lesson like the one he had given Hasik so many years before.
    Jardir swept his arm at Jurim and the others, then pointed at the wall. They obediently lined up, backs straight, all of them ignoring wounds the girl had inflicted. She was a born warrior, whatever her gender.
    Jardir heard the intake of air in Leesha’s mouth and held up his hand before she could speak, pacing before his men.
    “I am intended toward Mistress Leesha,” he said calmly. “An insult to one of the mistress’ servants is an insult to her. An insult to her is an insult to me.”
    He looked Jurim in the eyes, lightly touching his chest with the point of the Spear of Kaji. “Have you insulted me, Jurim?” he asked softly.
    Jurim’s eyes widened. He looked frantically at Wonda, and then back at Jardir. He squirmed under the speartip, though its touch was feather-light, and began to shake. He knew his life might depend on his answer, but to lie to the Deliverer would cost him his place in Heaven.
    Jurim collapsed, falling to his knees and weeping. He pressed his forehead into the dirt and wailed, clutching at Jardir’s feet. “Forgive me, Shar’Dama Ka!”
    Jardir kicked him, taking a step backward and broadening his gaze to take in the warriors on either side of Jurim. Immediately they, too, fell to their knees and ground their foreheads into the dirt, wailing.
    “Silence!” Jardir snapped, and the men quieted instantly. He pointed to Wonda. “That woman killed more
alagai
this night than the three of you combined, and so her honor is worth the three of your lives.”
    The men cowered, but they did not dare to speak in their defense. “Go to the temple and pray through the night and the coming day,” Jardir said. “You will take your spears and go into the night tomorrow, shieldless and clad only in black bidos. When you are pulled down, your bones will go to Sharik Hora.”
    The men shuddered with relief and wept, kissing Jardir’s feet, for in those words, he had promised them the only things a
Sharum
truly feared to lose: a warrior’s death, and entry into Heaven’s paradise. “Thank you, Deliverer,” they said over and over.
    “Go!” Jardir snapped, and the men ran off instantly.
    Jardir looked back at Leesha, whose face was a sandstorm. “You just let them go?” she