The Desert Spear

the burn.
    Abban bowed. “Every cup is easier than the last, mistress.” He left, and Leesha poured herself a second cup. Indeed, it went down more smoothly.
    The third tasted just like cinnamon.

    Abban was right about the couzi. Leesha could feel it wrapped around her like her warded cloak, warming and protecting her at the same time. The warring voices in her mind had fallen silent, and in that quiet was a clarity she had never known.
    The room felt hot, even in her low-necked festival dress. She fanned her breasts, and noted with amusement the furtive glances Jardir cast while trying to feign disinterest.
    The Evejah lay open between them as they lounged on silken pillows, but Jardir had not read a passage to her in some time. They spoke of other things; her improving language skills, his life in the Kaji’sharaj and her apprenticeship to Bruna, how his mother had been outcast for having too many daughters.
    “My mother wasn’t pleased to only have a daughter, either,” Leesha said.
    “A daughter like you is worth a dozen sons,” Jardir said. “But what of your brothers? That they are with Everam now does not diminish her gift of them.”
    Leesha sighed. “My mother lied about that, Ahmann. I am her only child, and I have no magic dice by which to promise you sons.” As she spoke, she felt a weight lift from her. As with her clothes, let him know the real her.
    Jardir surprised her by shrugging. “It will be as Everam wills. Even if you have three girls first, I will cherish them and hold faith that sons will follow.”
    “I’m not a virgin, either,” Leesha blurted, and held her breath.
    Jardir looked at her for a long time, and Leesha wondered if she had said too much. What business was it of his anyway, if she was or wasn’t?
    But in his eyes it was, and her mother’s lie weighed on her as if it were her own, for she confirmed it by her silence.
    Jardir looked from side to side as if to verify they were alone, and then leaned in close, his lips practically touching hers. “I am not, either,” he whispered, and she laughed. He joined her, and it felt honest and true.
    “Marry me,” he begged.
    Leesha snorted. “What need do you have of another wife, when you already have…”
    “Fourteen,” Jardir supplied, waving a hand as if it were nothing. “Kaji had a thousand.”
    “Does anyone even remember the name of his fifteenth?” Leesha asked.
    “Shannah vah Krevakh,” Jardir said without hesitation. “It is said her father stole shadows to make her hair, and from her womb came the first Watchers, invisible in the night, yet ever vigilant at their father’s side.”
    Leesha’s eyes narrowed. “You’re making that up.”
    “Will you kiss me, if I am not?” Jardir asked.
    Leesha pretended to consider. “Only if I may slap you, if you are.”
    Jardir smiled, pointing to the Evejah. “Every wife Kaji took is listed here, their names honored forever. Some of the entries are quite extensive.”
    “All thousand are listed?” Leesha asked doubtfully.
    Jardir winked at her. “The entries don’t begin to shorten until well after a hundred.”
    Leesha smirked and picked up the book. “Page two hundred thirtyseven,” Jardir said, “eighth line.” Leesha flipped through the pages until she found the correct one.
    “What does it say?” Jardir asked.
    Leesha still had difficulty understanding much of the text, but Abban had taught her to sound out the words. “Shannah vah Krevakh,” she said. She read the entire passage to him, trying hard to mimic the musical accent of the Krasian tongue.
    Jardir smiled. “It gives my heart great joy to hear you speak my language. I am penning my life, as well. The Ahmanjah, written in my own blood as Kaji wrote the Evejah. If you fear to be forgotten, say you will be mine, and I will pen an entire Dune to you.”
    “I still don’t know that I wish to be,” Leesha said honestly. Jardir’s smile began to fade, but she leaned in, giving him a smile of her own. “But you have earned your kiss.” Their mouths met, and a thrill ran through her greater than any magic.
    “What if your mother catches us?” Jardir asked, pulling back when she made no effort to break their embrace.
    Leesha took his face in her hands, pulling him back to her.
    “I barred the door,” she said, opening her mouth to his.

    Leesha was an Herb Gatherer. A student of old world science, and a conductor of her own experiments. She loved nothing more than to learn a new