The Core

Baden’s entourage bowed and took their place at the head of the young Damaji as Jamere signalled the guards once more. The doors opened, and in stormed Damaji Aleveran. The man was not yet sixty, robust and dangerous.

When Asome’s Majah brother Maji failed to kill Damaji Aleverak, Asome executed the Damaji personally, breaking the pact that had held peace between the Kaji and Majah since Ahmann took the throne. Asome had no other Majah dama brother to install as leader, and with the overwhelming support of his tribe, the black turban fell to Aleverak’s eldest son, Aleveran.

Immediately Aleveran left the council, imprisoning Belina and reinstating the former Majah Damaji’ting, the ancient but formidable Chavis. The old woman walked at his back, every bit as angry. Aleverak’s honour had been boundless, and his murder had all the Majah sharpening their spears.

They were shadowed by a small army of Sharum bodyguards. They were outnumbered by the Spears of the Deliverer lining the walls of the courtroom, but the men were alert, ready to fight and die to protect their leaders.

‘Damaji Aleveran!’ Asome called without preamble. ‘I call upon you and your Damaji’ting to kneel before the Skull Throne and take your rightful places on the aisle. Do this, and all will be forgiven.’

‘Forgiven?’ Aleveran snarled. ‘I am not the one who has committed a crime, boy. I am not the one who sullied this council chamber.’

‘Ware your words, Damaji,’ Hoshkamin warned, and around the room warriors tensed. ‘You stand before Shar’Dama Ka.’

Aleveran looked ready to spit on the ground, but Chavis laid a hand on his shoulder, and he thought better of it.

‘Shar’Dama Ka is dead,’ he said. ‘The Majah will not bow before a usurper who uses hora magics to murder in the night.’

Hoshkamin’s eyes narrowed, but Asome was wise enough to keep things from escalating. ‘Stand down, brother.’

‘Sharak Sun still rages, Damaji,’ Asome said, ‘and Sharak Ka looms. Krasia must be unified if there is any hope of victory. I wish no further bloodshed over the matter. Stand for your tribe as your father did.’

‘How can I stand before the man who murdered him?’ Aleveran demanded.

‘How, indeed?’ Inevera asked, drawing all eyes to her. It was known in the palace, if not beyond, that Asome had attempted to kill her, as well. ‘You would not be the first Damaji to lose his father in the struggle for the throne. We are all bound to serve Everam’s will.’

Damaji’ting Chavis stepped forward. ‘In that we agree. But Everam’s will has always been a mystery. I have consulted the hora, and the Creator has given me an answer to our problem.’

Inevera’s eyes narrowed, wondering what the old woman was playing at. She wished she could pull the curtains shut, that she might view Chavis’ aura. ‘The hora have said nothing of the sort to me.’

‘Fortunate, then, there remain some with more experience.’ Chavis’ smile was benevolent condescension. Inevera smiled in reply, wishing she could simply take out her hora wand and blast the woman from existence.

‘What do you propose?’ Asome asked.

Aleveran’s next words shocked the court into silence.

‘That the Majah take their spoils and return to the Desert Spear.’

Inevera and Asome knelt on the pillows of her private casting chamber off to one side of the throne room. Two curtained doorways separated the chamber from the bright sunlight of the throne room. Bathed in darkness, Inevera relaxed slightly at the restoration of her powers.

The relief was short-lived as she looked at her son, glowing in Everam’s light almost as intensely as his father had. His aura was flat and even, the result of a lifetime of meditation training. Dama grandmasters deep in meditation presented an aura of flat white, but even the most skilled practitioners could not entirely control the emotions running along their surface aura during periods of activity. There would be flares as he absorbed new information.

She wondered what he saw when he looked at her, how skilled he had become at reading the constantly shifting colours and patterns for secrets others wished to keep hidden.

‘Where is my family?’ Inevera demanded.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Asome said. His aura showed the lie, but she could not tell if it was a loss of control at her sudden demand, or if he allowed her to see it.

Inevera Drew on the magic of the large hora stone hidden in the flooring beneath her pillow. Asome squinted as her aura brightened, and though he kept it from his face, she saw a flare of fear across his aura. ‘Do not lie to me, boy.’

The fear left his aura as Asome glanced around the room. ‘This is the room where Father lay with Leesha Paper, is it not?’

Inevera blinked as Asome looked down at his pillow. ‘Perhaps he took her on this very spot! She was a filthy chin, of course, but comely enough, if one likes that sort of thing. I hear you redecorated with fire when they were done.’

He knew how to cut at her. Inevera gave him credit for that. She bent against wind of it, face serene, giving him nothing. ‘And where did you kneel, when you sucked Cashiv’s cock?’

Asome’s grin was wicked. ‘I won’t be sucking Cashiv’s cock. That will be Grandfather Kasaad’s duty, if you do not return Kaji to me. At least, until Cashiv decides to kill him.’

For a moment Inevera lost her centre. An instant only, but Asome did not miss it, his aura showing satisfaction at the tiny victory.

‘Your father forgave Kasaad’s sins,’ Inevera said. ‘He will go clean to Everam.’

‘He murdered your brother for being push’ting,’ Asome said. ‘Perhaps that is why you hid them from us. You knew I might not be as forgiving as Father.’

‘Shar’Dama Ka must be merciful,’ Inevera said.

‘Only Everam’s mercy is infinite.’ Asome shrugged. ‘You have kept our families so separate that I will not weep at the loss.’

Inevera herself had only recently reconciled with her father over the crime. It weighed on her, but there was never a choice. Her prisoners were her strongest leverage against Asome, and she could not give that up, even for her father’s life. ‘And Manvah?’

‘Will be kept safely in my custody,’ Asome said. ‘Accorded every courtesy befitting the mother of the Damajah. As I trust my Tikka is.’

Inevera gave a shallow nod. ‘Of course. Now let us discuss your failure to bring the Majah into the fold as you stumbled up the seven steps.’

Irritation pricked Asome’s aura even as he smiled. ‘How is it different from Father’s own rise? Father, too, was unable to quell the Majah fully. They have been a plague on unity since Kaji defeated Majah in Domin Sharum three thousand years ago.’

‘If you had waited until Maji was older …’

Asome waved the idea away. ‘I knew my brother better than you, Mother. I grew up with him in Sharik Hora. He was never going to grow enough to defeat Aleverak, hora stones or no. It was inevera he fail.’

‘And what was your plan in that eventuality?’ Inevera asked.

‘There are only two choices,’ Asome said. ‘Find something that will appease them into accepting the new order, or force them into submission.’

‘At what cost?’ Inevera asked. ‘The Majah are too numerous. Open war will destroy our forces just as Sharak Ka is nigh.’

‘We could let them go,’ Asome said, ‘but that weakens us as well. The greenlanders already outnumber us.’

Inevera reached into her hora pouch, producing her electrum-coated dice. ‘These are questions for Everam.’

Inevera raised her curved knife. ‘Hold out your arm.’

Aleveran’s aura was stone, but his eyes flicked to Chavis. The Damaji’ting gave a slight nod, and Aleveran rolled his sleeve, arm steady as he extended it.

She made a quick, shallow cut, enough blood for the spell and not a drop more. No need to antagonize the Majah any further.

‘Everam, Creator of Heaven and Ala, Giver of Light and Life, your children need guidance. Should Damaji Aleveran lead his people back to the Desert Spear?’

The dice flared as she shook. She and Chavis leaned in the moment the dice settled from her throw. Their eyes flicked from symbol to symbol, taking in the orientation of the dice to one another and to due east, where Everam’s light was born each day. Even then, there were many interpretations, all potential futures. Reading the most likely was an art dama’ting spent lifetimes perfecting, and even the most skilled often disagreed.