The Desert Spear

murmuring among the men at this. It was unheard of for a woman, even a
Damaji’ting,
to give such orders to
Damaji.
They looked to Jardir, but when he did not contradict her, they had no choice but to comply.
    “Are you an idiot?” Inevera snapped, when they were alone. “Putting your control of the Majah—not to mention your son—at risk, and for what?”
    Jardir noted how she put Maji second. “I do not expect you to understand why it had to be done.”
    “Oh?” Inevera asked, her tone venomous. “Is your
Jiwah Ka
such a fool, then? Why should she be unable to understand the wisdom here?”
    “Because it is a matter of honor!” Jardir snapped. “And you have shown you do not waste a moment’s thought on such foolish things.”
    Inevera glared at him for a moment, and then turned away, her
dama’ting
serenity back in place. “It is no matter. Aleverak’s heirs can be dealt with in time.”
    “You will not interfere in this,” Jardir said. “Maji will just have to prove the stronger.”
    “And if he fails?” Inevera asked.
    “Then Everam does not wish him to lead the Majah,” Jardir said.
    Inevera looked ready to respond, but only shook her head. “It isn’t a total loss. Word of your crippling Aleverak but allowing him to live and serve you still will only add to your legend.”
    “You sound like Abban,” Jardir muttered.
    “Eh?” she asked, though he knew she heard full well.
    “Enough,” he said. “It is done and there is nothing for it. Now put on a decent robe and veil before you put impure thoughts into the minds of my men.”
    “Bold as ever,” Inevera said, but she smiled behind her translucent veil, seeming more amused than irritated. “The Evejah commands women to wear veils so no man covet what is not his, but you are the Deliverer. Who would dare covet your woman? I have nothing to fear if I walk naked through the streets.”
    “Nothing to fear, perhaps, but what advantage comes with the baring of your sex like a whore for any man to see?” Jardir asked.
    Inevera’s eyebrows tightened, though her face remained serene. “I bare my face that none might mistake me. I bare my body that your power might be increased, for having such manly lusts that even the leader of the
Damaji’ting
must be prepared to service you instantly.”
    “Another deception,” Jardir said wearily, sitting upon the throne.
    “Not at all,” Inevera purred, sliding into his lap. “I am fully prepared to stand responsible for the lusts of Shar’Dama Ka.”
    “You make it sound a task,” Jardir said. “A tedious price of power.”
    “Not so tedious,” Inevera said, tracing a finger down his chest. She undid the fastenings of his pantaloons and moved to mount him.
    Jardir could not deny the lust her beauty roused in him, but he felt, too, the Skull Throne under him, and he looked up as Inevera sheathed herself upon him, much as she had ridden the Andrah. Killing the man had done nothing to excise the image from his mind. It haunted him like a spirit denied passage to the next life.
    Did Inevera truly feel passion at his touch, or were her moans and gyrations just another mask, like the opaque veil she had cast aside? Jardir honestly did not know.
    He stood up, lifting her off him. “I am in no mood for such games.”
    Inevera’s eyes widened, but she held her temper. “This says differently,” she purred, squeezing his stiffened member.
    Jardir pushed her away. “It does not rule me,” he said, redoing the fastenings at his waist.
    Inevera gave him the look of a coiled snake, and for a moment he thought she would attack him, but then her
dama’ting
serenity returned. She shrugged as if his refusal was no matter, glided from the dais, hers hips swaying hypnotically as she descended.

    Hasik touched his forehead to the marble floor before the dais of the Skull Throne.
    “I have brought the
khaffit,
Deliverer,” he said with distaste. When Jardir nodded, the guards opened the door and Abban limped in. When he drew close to the dais, Hasik shoved Abban forward, meaning to drive him to his knees, but Abban was quick with his crutch and somehow managed to keep his feet.
    “Kneel before Shar’Dama Ka!” Hasik roared, but Jardir raised a hand to stay him.
    “If I am to die, at least allow me to do it on my feet,” Abban said.
    Jardir smiled. “What makes you think I wish to kill you?”
    “Am I not another loose thread to be clipped?” Abban asked. “Like the Par’chin before