The Desert Spear

mountain home?”
    Hasik looked up, scanning the crowd. Jardir hissed, but again his lieutenant ignored him.
    “Him,” he said, pointing to the greenlander.
    All eyes turned to the greenlander, who took a step back, realizing he had become the focus of everyone’s attention.
    “A
chin
?” the Andrah asked. “What is a
chin
doing among the
Sharum
of Krasia? He should be in the market slums with the other
khaffit.
”
    A
dama
whispered in Amadeveram’s ear. “I am told he came to the First Warrior last night and begged to fight,” the
Damaji
said.
    “And you gave him permission?” the Andrah asked Jardir, incredulous.
    Inevera tensed, but Jardir stilled her with a hand. She might have power in small chambers, but if a woman, even a
dama’ting,
defended him before the assembled warriors and
dama,
she would only make matters worse.
    “I did,” he said.
    “So this ruin brought upon us is wholly your fault!” the Andrah cried. “Your
chin
‘s head shall share the gate spike with you, and let buzzards eat your eyes!”
    He turned to go, but Jardir was not done. He had sacrificed too much for the greenlander to let him be executed now. Inevera had said their fates were tied, so let it be so.
    His arm screamed still, and he was tired and bruised from fighting the night through. His head spun with pain and exhaustion, but he embraced it all and pushed it aside. There would be time to rest in Everam’s embrace, and he was not there yet.
    “So I should have turned him away?” he asked loudly, so all could hear. “He comes to us with
alagai
as his enemy, and we should show him our backs? Are we men or
khaffit
?”
    The Andrah stopped short, and turned back to face Jardir. His face was a stormcloud.
    “He brought a rock demon with him!” the Andrah cried.
    “I don’t care if his enemy really
was
Alagai Ka!” Jardir shouted back. “Woe betide Krasia when we fear the
alagai
enough to turn on a man in the night—even a
chin
!”
    He beckoned to the greenlander, who ascended the steps halfway, so all could see him. He held his spear tightly, as if expecting the crowd to turn on him in an instant. His hard eyes made it clear he would not fall easily.
    He is fearless,
Jardir thought.
Could there be a better man to tie my fate to?
    “This is no cowardly Northerner, tilling soil like a woman,” Jardir said. “This is a
par’chin,
a brave outsider who stands like a
dal’Sharum
! Let Alagai Ka come! If he wishes this greenlander’s blood, then that is reason enough for any man who would stand tall before Everam to deny him!”
    Shanjat gave a shout of support, echoed quickly by Jardir’s hundred. In an instant every
dal’Sharum
had raised his spear to add his voice to the cacophony.
    “We stood fast against Nie, this night, and denied her great servant,” Jardir said. “Even now, he crawls back to the abyss in failure and defeat, quailing in fear of the
dal’Sharum
of the Desert Spear!”
    The Andrah sputtered, foundering for a response, but anything he could have said was drowned away as even the
dama
in the crowd took up the cry.
    The Andrah scowled, but in the face of such overwhelming support for Jardir, there was nothing he could do. He turned on his heel, sitting heavily in his palanquin. The
nie’Sharum
groaned under his bulk as they hoisted the carrying bars to their shoulders.
    “You play a dangerous game,” Amadeveram warned as they carried the Andrah out of earshot.
    “
Sharak
is no game to me, Damaji,” Jardir said.

    “That was well done,” Inevera said as she laid him on her operating table. “You sent that fat pig running with his curled tail between his legs!” She laughed as she began to cut the robes from him. His shoulder and much of his arm had gone black.
    “I have rare moments of competence,” Jardir said.
    Inevera grunted, taking his arm and popping it back into its socket with a sharp twist. Jardir was ready for the pain, and it washed over him like a warm breeze.
    “Do you need a root for the pain?” she asked.
    Jardir snorted.
    “So strong,” she purred, running her hands over his body, searching for further injuries. Jardir was a mass of bruises and scrapes, but there was nothing that could not wait, it seemed, for Inevera’s robes fell to the floor, and she climbed onto the table, straddling him.
    Nothing aroused her more than victory.
    “My champion,” she breathed, kissing his hard chest. “My Shar’Dama Ka.”

    Jardir sat on the Spear Throne,