The Desert Spear

them, as well. Since none of our learned men,” he looked at Ashan with disdain, “has seen fit to study the tongue of the savages, it will fall to you to instruct us, beginning with me.”
    Abban paled. “Me?” he squeaked. “Instruct you?”
    Jardir felt a wave of disgust. “Stop your sniveling. Yes, you! Are there any others who speak it?”
    Abban shrugged. “It is a valuable skill in the marketplace. My wives and daughters speak a few words, so they might listen in secret as the Messengers talk. Many other women in the bazaar do the same.”
    “You expect the Sharum Ka to learn from a woman?” Ashan demanded, and Jardir swallowed the irony. If not for Inevera, he would still be an illiterate
dal’Sharum.
    “Another merchant then,” Abban said. “I am not the only one who trades with the North.”
    “But you trade the most,” Jardir said. “It is obvious from your womanish silks, and the fact that a sniveling fat
khaffit
like you has more wives than most warriors. More than that, the Par’chin knows and trusts you. Unless there is a true man who speaks the greenland tongue, it shall be you.”
    “But…” Abban said, his eyes pleading. Jardir held up a hand, and he fell silent.
    “You said once you owed me your life,” Jardir said. “The time has come for you to begin repaying that debt.”
    Abban bowed deeply, touching his forehead to the floor.

    The city gates were patched by nightfall, and though the giant rock demon continued to attack the walls, the sling teams gave it no more ammunition with which to breach the wards. The Par’chin joined in
alagai’sharak
again that night, and every night for a week to come. By day, he drilled hard with the
dal’Sharum.
    “I cannot speak for other greenland Messengers,” Drillmaster Kaval said, spitting in the dust, “but the Par’chin has been trained well. His spearwork is excellent, and he has taken to
sharusahk
like he was born to it. I started him training with the
nie’Sharum,
but his form has already surpassed even those ready for the wall.”
    Jardir nodded. He had expected no less.
    As if he had known they spoke of him, the Par’chin approached them, Abban trailing dutifully behind. He bowed and spoke.
    “I will be returning to the North tomorrow, First Warrior,” Abban translated.
    Keep him close.
Inevera’s words echoed in Jardir’s head.
    “So soon?” he asked. “You have only just arrived, Par’chin!”
    “I feel that way as well,” the Par’chin said, “but I have commitments to deliver goods and messages that must be kept.”
    “Commitments to
chin
!” Jardir snapped, knowing he had made a mistake the moment the words left his mouth. It was a deep insult. He wondered if the greenlander would attack him.
    But the Par’chin only raised an eyebrow. “Should that matter?” he asked through Abban.
    “No, of course not,” Jardir said, bowing deeply to everyone’s surprise. “I apologize. I am simply disappointed to see you go.”
    “I will return soon,” the Par’chin promised. He held up a sheaf of papers bound in leather. “Abban has been most helpful; I have a long list of words to memorize. When next we meet, I hope to be more adept at your tongue.”
    “No doubt,” Jardir said. He embraced the Par’chin, kissing his hairless cheeks. “You will always be welcome in Krasia, my brother, but you will draw less attention if you grow a proper man’s beard.”
    The Par’chin smiled. “I will,” he promised.
    Jardir slapped him on the back. “Come, my friend. Night is falling. We will kill
alagai
once more before you cross the hot sands.”

    In the months following the Par’chin’s departure, Jardir began observing the other Messengers from the North more closely. Abban’s contacts in the bazaar were extensive, and word came quickly when a Northerner arrived.
    Jardir invited each to his palace in turn—an honor unheard of in the past. The men came eagerly after centuries of being treated as filth beneath even
khaffit.
    “I welcome the chance to practice the Northland tongue,” he told the Messengers as they sat at his table, served by his own wives. He spoke to each at length, indeed honing his speech, but seeking something more.
    And when the meals were finished, he always made the same request.
    “You carry a spear in the night like a man,” he said. “Come stand with us in the Maze tonight as a brother.”
    The men looked at him, and he could see in their eyes that they had no idea of the