The Desert Spear

back to Inevera, but she raised the stone again, and the lightning struck a second time, and again after that when he still managed to put his feet under him. He struggled to rise a third time, but his limbs did not respond to his commands, muscles spasming uncontrollably.
    “Finally, we understand each other,” Inevera said. “I am Everam’s will, and you had best put aside thoughts of resisting me. If bedding a fat pig gets you the white turban, then you should be thanking me for my sacrifice, not trying to ruin things.”
    “Fat pig?!” the Andrah demanded, rising to his feet at last. “I am—!”
    “—alive because I wish it,” Inevera said, raising the demon skull. Flames licked from its jaws, and the Andrah blanched.
    “I needed your support of Jardir until he won over the
Sharum
and
Damaji
of the other tribes,” she said, “but now that Qasha is with child, the
Sharum
will see that he is brother to all of them in day as well as night. You can never depose him now.”
    “I am the Andrah!” the man shouted. “I can raze this palace with a wave of my hand!”
    Inevera laughed. “Then you will have civil war. And even if you did kill Ahmann, what of his
dama’ting
wives? Will you rape and slaughter them, as is the custom? The Evejah is clear about the fate of any who would dare harm a
dama’ting.
”
    The Andrah scowled, having no reply.
    “The gates of Heaven are closed,” she said, slinging silk across her shoulders to cover her nakedness. “Perhaps they will open again the next time I need a proclamation from you, or perhaps I will send Ahmann to write it in your blood. But until then, take your withered old spear back to your palace.”
    Not even bothering to dress, the Andrah gathered his clothes in his arms and scurried from the room.
    Inevera approached Jardir, kneeling beside him. The lump of demon bone she had used to throw lightning disintegrated, and she brushed the ash from her hand bemusedly. “You are strong,” she said. “Few men could rise after one strike, much less three. I’ll have to use a larger bone when I carve a new one tonight.”
    She reached out to him, gentling his hair and caressing his face. “Ah, my love,” she said sadly. “How I wish you had not seen this.”
    Jardir fought with his tongue, which felt as if it had swollen to fill his entire mouth. “Why?” he finally managed to croak.
    Inevera sighed. “The Andrah was going to have you executed for killing his friend with such dishonor. I did what was needed to save your life and gain you power. But fear not. The day is fast approaching when you will take his throne, and on that day, you may cut the manhood from him yourself.”
    “Did…” Jardir began, unable to manage more. He swallowed hard, trying to lubricate his tongue, but even that seemed beyond him.
    Inevera rose and brought him water, running it over his lips and massaging his throat to help him swallow. She used her silk wrap to dry his mouth, revealing one of her breasts. He wondered how, even now, he could desire her, but it was undeniable.
    “Did you know it would come to this,” he asked, “when you had me kill the Sharum Ka?” Again he called upon his limbs to move, and again they failed to respond.
    Inevera sighed again. “You have lived but twenty winters, my love, and even you can recall a time when Krasia had ten thousand
dal’Sharum.
The eldest
Damaji
can recall when it was ten times that, and the ancient scrolls show our numbers in the millions before the Return. Our people are dying, Ahmann, because they lack a leader. They need more than a strong Sharum Ka, more than a powerful Andrah. They need Shar’Dama Ka, before Nie scatters the last of us to the sands.”
    Inevera paused, breaking eye contact, and it seemed she considered her next words carefully. “I didn’t ask the dice if I would ever see you again, that first night,” she admitted. “I asked if there was a man in all Krasia who could pull us from attrition and lead us back to glory, and they pointed to a boy I would find weeping in the Maze, years hence.”
    “I am the Deliverer?” Jardir asked, his voice hoarse and disbelieving.
    Inevera shrugged. “The dice never lie, but neither do they give absolutes. There are futures where men believe you so, and unite behind you, and others where they unite behind another, or not at all.”
    “Then what good are they?” Jardir asked. “If that is
inevera,
fate will decide it.”
    “There is no fate as you