The Desert Spear

Gared, but seemed less impressed with Wonda, though she was as big and strong as most
dal’Sharum.
He then came back to Leesha.
    “I can make a great warrior of the giant,” Abban translated, “if he is disciplined. The woman…we shall see.” He did not look hopeful.
    The drillmaster stepped back into the courtyard, his movements quick and graceful. He looked at Gared and barked a command, thumping his chest.
    “The drillmaster would like you to attack him,” Abban supplied.
    “Din’t need you to translate that,” Gared said. He stepped forward, towering over the drillmaster, but Kaval seemed unimpressed. Gared roared and attacked, but his punches, careful though they were, met only air. He lunged to grapple and found himself on his back a moment later. Kaval twisted his arm until Gared screamed, and then released him.
    “He will be even harder on you,” Abban advised Wonda. “Steel yourself.”
    “Ent afraid,” Wonda said, stepping forth.
    Wonda lasted longer than Gared, her moves smoother and quicker, but the outcome was never in doubt. Twice, Wonda’s blows came close enough that the drillmaster required contact to block them, but he responded once with a backhand to her jaw that sent her reeling and spitting blood, and the next time with a heavy blow to the stomach that doubled the girl over as she vomited the air from her stomach.
    Kaval caught her arm before she could recover and twisted her to the cobbles. Wonda kicked him in the face as she went down, connecting solidly, but Kaval was unfazed, his mouth widening to a smile as he twisted her arm. Wonda’s face grew pale and she gritted her teeth, but she refused to cry out.
    “The drillmaster will break her arm if she does not submit,” Abban warned.
    “Wonda,” Leesha said, and the girl finally had the sense to let out a cry.
    Kaval released her and said something to Abban in a grudging tone.
    “Perhaps I can make something of her, after all,” Abban translated. “Please leave us, so we may train without distraction.”
    Leesha looked at Gared and Wonda, and nodded. “Why don’t you join Rojer and I for tea, Abban.”
    “I would be honored,” Abban said, bowing.
    “But first,” Leesha said, her voice hardening, “make it clear to Master Kaval that there will be the Core to pay if I come back to find warriors too injured to fight tonight.”

    Abban’s wives tried to serve them, but Amanvah hissed and they backed off. She clapped her hands, and Sikvah scurried to prepare the tea. Leesha wrinkled her nose. The girl might be Jardir’s niece, but even she was little more than a slave.
    “They’ve been doing this since yesterday,” Rojer said. Amanvah said something in Krasian, and Abban nodded to her.
    “It is our place to service Rojer’s needs,” he translated. “We will suffer it from no other.”
    “I could get used this,” Rojer said with a grin, stretching back and putting his hands behind his head.
    “Just don’t get
too
used to it,” Leesha said. “It isn’t going to last.” She saw Amanvah’s eyes tighten at that, but the girl said nothing.
    Sikvah returned soon after with the tea. She served silently, eyes down, and then retreated to where Amanvah stood by the wall. Leesha took a sip of her tea, swirled it around her mouth for a moment, and then spit it back into the cup.
    “You added a pinch of blackleaf powder to the mix,” she said to Sikvah, putting the cup back on the table. “Clever. Most people wouldn’t have tasted it, and at that dosage, it would take weeks to kill me.”
    Rojer gasped, and spit his tea all over himself. Leesha caught his cup as it fell, and ran a finger along the porcelain rim, tasting the residue. “Nothing for you to worry over, Rojer. Seems they’re not quite so eager to be rid of
you.
”
    Abban carefully put his cup back on the table. Amanvah looked at him and said something in Krasian.
    “Ah…” Abban said to Leesha. “You make a serious accusation. Do you wish me to translate?”
    “By all means,” Leesha laughed, “though I’ve no doubt she understood every word.”
    Abban spoke, and Amanvah shrieked, running over to Leesha and shouting at her.
    “The
dama’ting
calls you a liar and a fool,” Abban supplied.
    Leesha smiled and held up her cup. “Tell
her
to drink it, then.”
    Amanvah’s eyes blazed as she snatched the cup from her without waiting for translation. The liquid was still hot, but she lifted her veil and quaffed it in one gulp. She glared