The Desert Spear

something to defend herself with, but of course she was alone.
    When she reoriented herself, the fear fled, replaced by harsh anger.
They took something from me on that road, but I’ll be corespawned if I let them take
everything.

    Leesha felt the paint and powder thick on her face as she tried on what felt like the hundredth dress, all the while being careful of her pinned hair, lest it lose its shape.
    Jardir was coming to court. He had sent word that morning that he wished to visit in the afternoon to continue to read to her from the Evejah as he had on the road, but no one had any illusions regarding his intent.
    Abban’s First Wife, Shamavah, brought dozens of dresses for her to try, Krasian silks smoother than a baby’s skin, brightly colored and scandalously cut. She and Elona dressed Leesha like a doll, parading her before the mirrors lining the walls and arguing over which cuts were most flattering. Wonda looked on in amusement, probably feeling vindicated for the similar treatment she had suffered at the hands of Duchess Araine’s seamstress.
    “This one’s too much, even by my standard,” Elona said of the latest choice.
    “Too little, you mean,” Leesha said. The dress was practically transparent, like something Inevera would wear. She ’d need one of Bruna’s thick knitted shawls to feel half decent in it.
    “You don’t want to give it all away,” Elona agreed. “Let him work a bit to earn more than a peek.” She chose a more opaque dress, but the silk still clung to Leesha in a way that made her feel as if she were naked. She shivered, and realized why such fashion was not as popular in the North as the desert.
    “Nonsense,” Shamavah said. “Mistress Leesha has a body to rival even the Damajah. Let Shar’Dama Ka see well what he cannot have until the contract is signed.” She held up a wrap of cloth so diaphanous and scant Leesha wondered if she should bother to dress at all.
    “Enough,” she snapped, pulling the dress Elona had chosen over her head and throwing it to the floor. She took a cloth and began to wipe away the paints and powders Shamavah had applied to her face while Elona looked over her shoulder and bickered over the colors.
    “Wonda, go and fetch my blue dress,” Leesha said. Her tone wiped the grin off the girl’s face and sent her scurrying.
    “That plain old thing?” Elona asked. “You’ll look—”
    “Like myself,” Leesha cut her off. “Not some painted Angierian whore.” Both women seemed ready to protest, but she glared at them, and they thought better of it.
    “At least leave your hair,” Elona said. “I worked all morning on it, and it won’t kill you to look nice.”
    Leesha turned, admiring the job her mother had done with her rich black hair, sending it in curling cascades down her back with a rebellious cut across her forehead. She smiled.
    Wonda returned with Leesha’s blue dress, but Leesha looked at it and tsked. “On second thought, fetch my festival dress.” She threw her mother a wink. “No reason I can’t look nice.”

    Leesha paced back and forth in her chambers, waiting for Jardir to arrive. She had sent the other women away; their talk only made her nerves tighten further.
    There was a knock at her door, and Leesha made a quick check of the mirror, sucking in her stomach and giving her breasts a last lift before opening the door.
    But it was not Jardir waiting on the other side, only Abban, his eyes down as he held a tiny bottle and a tinier glass.
    “A gift for courage,” he said holding the items out to her.
    “What is it?” Leesha asked, opening the bottle and sniffing. Her nose curled. “Smells like something I’d brew to disinfect a wound.”
    Abban laughed. “No doubt it has been used for that purpose many times. It is called couzi, a drink my people often use to calm their nerves. Even the
dal’Sharum
use it, to give them heart when the sun sets.”
    “They get drunk before going off to fight?” Leesha asked, incredulous.
    Abban shrugged. “There is a…clarity in the haze of couzi, mistress. One cup, and you will be warmed and calm. Two, and you will have a
Sharum’s
courage. Three, and you’ll feel you can dance on the edge of Nie’s abyss without falling in.”
    Leesha raised an eyebrow at him, but the corner of her mouth curved in a smile. “Perhaps one,” she said, filling the tiny cup. “I wouldn’t mind a little warmth right now.” She put it to her lips and tossed it back, coughing at