The Core

They sacked farms and hamlets as their numbers grew, growing heavy with supply. Then, impossibly, men began to come to them. Sharum that had set off in search of plunder and found ill fortune begging to join, willingly surrendering their genitals in exchange for full bellies and the sense they were once again part of something powerful.

The growth had come with a positive change in Abban’s circumstances. Hasik healed him regularly now, needing Abban’s eyes sharp and his mind unclouded. Once relegated to cook, the khaffit was back on familiar ground, keeping Hasik’s ledgers and acting as quartermaster for his troops and caravan of slaves.

Hasik was lounging on the pillows in his pavilion, eating eggs and bacon.

‘Nie’s black heart, khaffit,’ Hasik said. ‘Had I known the flesh of pigs was so delicious, I would have turned my back on Everam’s law long ago.’

‘It is a great burden lifted,’ Abban agreed, ‘setting aside the Evejah to eat and drink as you please.’

Hasik tore another bite off the rasher, his lips shiny with grease. ‘Read me the tallies.’

Abban gritted his teeth, wheeling over to his writing desk. ‘You have … three kai’Sharum, one hundred and seventy-two dal’Sharum, eight hundred and seventeen kha’Sharum, two hundred and six chi’Sharum, and four hundred and thirty-six slaves. We have seven hundred and forty-two horses …’

Hasik put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes as if listening to music. The tallies were a burden to a good leader, as Ahmann had been, but to a man like Hasik it read as a list of his personal wealth, and Abban could not deny that in a very short time that wealth had become considerable. So considerable that all the Eunuchs had a taste of the largesse. There were no hungry in the caravan, and all had proper clothes to ward off winter’s chill. The Sharum were well equipped and obedient. Even the chi’Sharum conscripts had weapons to go with their ongoing training.

The canvas flap opened, admitting Orman, now wearing the white veil of a kai’Sharum around his neck. Orman had remained Hasik’s second in command and was, so far as Abban could determine, quite loyal and competent. The Bajin was a small tribe, and Orman would likely never have risen as high there as he had in the Eunuchs.

Orman bowed. ‘Eunuch Ka, there is a messenger. He claims to know you.’

‘A messenger?’ Hasik asked. ‘From who?’

‘From Dama Khevat!’ a kai’Sharum boomed, pushing past the door guard.

Abban immediately recognized the man by the scars on his face, a faded remnant from the night a quarter century ago when he had taken a swipe of a sand demon’s claws in the village of Baha kad’Everam. Magic had kept the man young, but he was an honoured elder of their fathers’ generation.

Jesan, Hasik’s ajin’pal.

Among the Sharum, the bond between ajin’pal was as strong as family. For those near in age it was a sibling bond, but more often it was one of father to son. Nightfathers, they were sometimes called, with a relationship no less complicated than fathers and sons of blood. They were mentors and authority figures.

The two were close when Hasik was the Deliverer’s brother-in-law, a respected member of the royal family. They had not spoken since Hasik’s disgrace.

‘Jesan.’ Hasik got to his feet. The men didn’t reach for weapons as they moved in to each other, but they didn’t need to. Both had been Spears of the Deliverer and were more than capable of killing with their bare hands.

Instead they gripped each other’s shoulders and laughed, embracing.

‘Khaffit! Brandy for my ajin’pal!’ Hasik called, leading Jesan to the pillows. Hasik took the centre, where the pile was thickest, gesturing for Jesan to sit at his right and Orman at his left.

Dawn appeared, silently filling a tray and laying it across the arms of Abban’s chair. It was a small blessing that she kept her eyes down, that Abban did not have to meet them as he looked into the gaping hole where her nose had been. She vanished as quickly as she had appeared, and Abban wheeled over to the pillows with the tray.

Hasik took a glass, handing it to Jesan. ‘There is no couzi this far north, but I’ve found the chin distilleries even better.’

‘Just water, thank you.’ Jesan’s voice was tight.

‘Some bacon, perhaps?’ Hasik swept a hand to the plate. ‘Everam could not have made a food so delicious if it was not meant to be eaten.’

Jesan stiffened. ‘Perhaps that is exactly why we were commanded not to eat it.’

‘Oh?’ Hasik’s question seemed casual, but there was challenge in his tone.

Jesan met Hasik’s eyes, breathing deeply. The familiar rhythm was an easy tell that the Sharum was attempting to remain calm. ‘To remind us everyone has a master.’

‘You think I need a reminder of who my master is?’ Hasik asked quietly.

‘I am not the Creator, Hasik,’ Jesan said. ‘Nothing happens, but that Everam wills it. I do not care that you drink couzi. I do not care that you eat pig. I have shed blood with you in the night and that is all that matters. I do not come as some glowering elder, but as your ajin’pal. There are pressing matters to discuss.’

‘Of course.’ Hasik leaned back in the pillows, sipping the brandy he had offered to Jesan. ‘Please go on.’

‘Dama Khevat congratulates your successful efforts in recapturing deserters from the Battle of Angiers,’ Jesan said.

That’s one way of putting it, Abban thought.

Hasik nodded. ‘The men lost heart when the Sharum Ka and his finest warriors were killed storming the gates of Angiers.’ The lie came easily to his lips. Abban, the only living witness to the truth – that Hasik killed Jayan himself – was wise enough to keep silent on the matter.

‘Your honour was taken from you unfairly, brother,’ Jesan’s eyes flicked to Abban with disgust, ‘but you can restore it. The Monastery of Dawn is under renewed attack from the chin. We cannot hold without aid.’

‘How is this possible?’ Hasik asked. ‘Khevat had a thousand warriors, not to mention the remnants of the Sharum Ka’s forces.’

‘Twenty-five hundred made it back from the Battle of Angiers,’ Jesan said, ‘but it was deep in the cold months. With the lakeshore frozen solid, we did not have sufficient supply. Dama Khevat sent them on to Everam’s Reservoir.

‘But then came an unexpected thaw. Chin saboteurs opened the main gate for a secret raid by the fish men, who braved the icy waters under cover of darkness to land a sizeable force.’

‘Everam’s beard,’ Abban breathed. The monastery was built on a great bluff, with only one narrow land route to the main gates and treacherous stairs leading up from the docks. The walls were nearly impregnable, but if the gate had been opened …

‘By the time we discovered the treachery, we were outnumbered,’ Jesan said. ‘But the Deliverer’s son Icha rallied the men and we threw back the foe, reclaiming the gates and docks.’

‘Of course.’ Hasik sipped his brandy. ‘They are only chin.’

‘But the attacks did not stop,’ Jesan continued. ‘The fish men stole our ships, sailing out of range of the stingers and rock slings. Khevat put all the chin slaves to death, but still the fish men found allies within our walls. Chi’Sharum from Everam’s Bounty snuck hundreds through a hidden tunnel in the basements, starting fires and opening the gates again.’

‘The greenlanders are tenacious,’ Hasik said.

‘Khevat had all the chin put to death,’ Jesan said, ‘Sharum and slave alike. The walls still hold, but there are less than three hundred Sharum left, half of them too injured to fight.’

‘Can they not speed their healing killing alagai?’ Orman asked.

Jesan shook his head. ‘The chin Holy Men did their warding too well. Alagai avoid the place.’

Jesan offered a scroll, sealed with the wax stamps of Dama Khevat and Ahmann Jardir’s third son, Icha. The two were the ranking Krasians north of Everam’s Bounty. Hasik took the scroll and handed it to Abban, for of course he could not read.

Abban unrolled the parchment. ‘Greetings Hasik asu Reklan am’Kez am’Kaji, in the year of Everam 3785, from Dama Khevat asu …’

Hasik whisked a hand. ‘I know who Khevat and that snot-nosed brat are. Get to the meat of it.’

Jesan bristled as Abban scanned the page, quickly filtering out the endless formalities. ‘You and your men are ordered to abandon your lawless ways and return to Sharak Sun. Your sins will be forgiven, and your status restored.’

‘Ordered?’ Hasik asked.

‘That is what it says,’ Abban said.