The Desert Spear

doubt lurking in the shadows, listening in, but they would never deign to serve at his table,
jiwah
or no. Ashan, his spiritual advisor, sat at the foot of the table, facing him. Shanjat, who had succeeded Jardir as
kai’Sharum
of his personal unit, sat at Jardir’s right hand, and Hasik, his personal bodyguard, at his left.
    “What were our losses last night?” Jardir asked as they had their tea.
    “We lost four last night, First Warrior,” Ashan said.
    Jardir looked at him in surprise. “The Kaji lost four?”
    Ashan smiled. “No, my friend.
Krasia
lost four. Two Baiters and two Watchers. All
dal’Sharum
past their primes and gone to glory.”
    Jardir returned the smile. Since he’d become Sharum Ka, nightly losses had dwindled as demon kills had increased.
    “And
alagai
?” he asked. “How many saw the sun?”
    “More than five hundred,” Ashan said.
    Jardir laughed. He doubted the true number was half that, with every tribe habitually exaggerating their kills, but it was still a fine night’s work, far more that the previous Sharum Ka had achieved.
    “The tribes in the eighth layer still saw no glory,” Ashan said. “We were considering leaving the Maze gates open longer tonight to ensure there are enough
alagai
for all to kill.”
    Jardir nodded. “An extra ten minutes. If that is not enough, add another ten tomorrow. I will be on the walls tonight, inspecting the new scorpions and rock slingers.”
    Ashan bowed. “As the Sharum Ka commands.”
    After the meal, they left for Sharik Hora, where the
Damaji
praised their successes and blessed the coming night’s battle. As the warriors left for the Maze, Jardir held his two lieutenants back.
    “You will wear the white turban tonight, Hasik,” Jardir said.
    A wild light came to Hasik’s eyes. “As the Sharum Ka commands.” He bowed.
    “You cannot be serious!” Ashan said. “To have a
dal’Sharum
impersonate the Sharum Ka is a violation of our sacred oaths!”
    “Nonsense,” Jardir said. “There are tales in the Evejah of Kaji playing such games frequently, when he did not wish his movements known.”
    “Forgive me, First Warrior,” Ashan said, “but you are not the Deliverer.”
    Jardir smiled. “Perhaps. But what is the Evejah, if not something the Shar’Dama Ka left for us to learn from?”
    Ashan frowned. “What if Hasik is discovered?”
    “He won’t be,” Jardir said. “With his night veil, the sling teams will not recognize him, for they have seldom seen me save at a distance. Hasik, however, will be seen on the walltops by all, and there will be no question among the
Sharum
that I was in the Maze tonight.”
    “If you are wrong, he will be put to death,” Ashan warned.
    Jardir shrugged. “Hasik has killed hundreds of
alagai.
If that is his fate, he will wake in paradise.”
    “I am not afraid, Sharum Ka,” Hasik said.
    Ashan snorted. “Fools seldom are,” he muttered. “But where will you go,” he asked Jardir, “while others think you on the wall?”
    “Ah,” Jardir said, taking Hasik’s black turban and tying the veil, “that is for me to know.”

    The streets of Fort Krasia were quiet at night, the true men all gone to battle, and the common
khaffit,
women, and children locked in the Undercity. Like all the city’s palaces, the palace of the Sharum Ka had its own walls and wards, its lower levels connected to the Undercity in several places. The palace was as safe from
alagai
as any in the world, and that was if a demon could even get past Krasia’s outer walls, which, as far as Jardir knew, had never happened.
    Jardir kept to the shadows, his
dal’Sharum
blacks making him invisible in the darkness. Even if someone had been there to see, none would have marked his passing.
    The gates of his palace were closed, but his years as a
nie’Sharum
had taught him to scale walls with ease. In a twinkling he was dropping into the darkness on the lee side.
    Nothing seemed amiss as he crossed the compound to the palace. The windows were dark, and the keep was silent. Still, Qasha’s words nagged at him.
All is not always still in the palace of the Sharum Ka at night.
    Jardir moved about dark and silent in the halls of his own home like a thief, using all the skills he had learned stalking
alagai
in the Maze. He did not leave so much as a curtain stirring in his wake as, one by one, he checked the audience halls and receiving rooms—anywhere that might be fitting for a gathering of those bold enough to