The Desert Spear

by Peter V. Brett

  As before, Rojer felt his face heat at the sight of the Damajah. He had bedded dozens of village girls and more than one cultured Angierian royal, all of them fetching or pretty or even beautiful. While Leesha surpassed them all in beauty, she seemed almost unaware of that fact, making no effort to take advantage of her power.

  But the Damajah knew. The perfect curve of her chin and gentle shape of her nose behind her transparent veil. The wide exotic eyes with long sweeping lashes, and the oiled black curls that spilled in rivulets down her shoulders. Her diaphanous robe covered everything and nothing, showcasing the smoothness of her arms and curving thighs, the round fullness of her breasts and the darkness of her areolae, her hairless sex. The air about her was sweet with perfume.

  But more, her every gesture, every stance, every expression, brought all these things into a harmony that sang to every man in her presence. What Rojer did to demons with his fiddle, the Damajah did to men with her body. He felt himself stiffen, and was thankful for the looseness of his motley pants.

  She stood in the receiving hall, two girls standing behind her, covered in the Krasian fashion Inevera disdained, though their robes were fine silk. One was clad in the white of a dama’ting, the other in black. Long black braids fell from the back of their headscarves, bound in gold bands and reaching past their waists. Their eyes danced at him from behind their veils.

  “Rojer asu Jessum am’Inn am’Bridge,” Inevera said in a thickly accented tongue that made Rojer shiver with pleasure. He tried to remind himself she was his enemy, but it seemed futile. “I am honored to meet you,” the Damajah went on, bowing so deeply Rojer feared her breasts would fall free of her robe. He wondered if she would care if they did. The girls behind her bowed even deeper.

  Rojer made his best leg in return. “Damajah,” he said simply, not knowing the proper form of address. “The honor is mine, that you have come here to meet one as insignificant as I.”

  “Don’t lay it too thick, Rojer,” Leesha muttered.

  “My husband bade me come,” Inevera said, “telling me you accepted his offer to find brides for you, that your magic be passed on to a new generation.”

  “I did?” Rojer asked. He remembered the exchange back in Deliverer’s Hollow, but he had thought it all a jest. They couldn’t possibly believe…

  “Of course,” Inevera said. “My husband offers you his eldest daughter, Amanvah, for your Jiwah Ka.” The girl in dama’ting white stepped forward, kneeling on the thick carpet and pressing her face to the floor. It pulled her silk robe tight, hinting at a womanly figure beneath. Rojer tore his eyes away before he was caught staring, looking back at the Damajah like a terrified rabbit.

  “There must be some…” mistake, he wanted to say, but the word caught in his throat as Inevera beckoned the other girl forward. “This is Amanvah’s servant, Sikvah,” she said, as the girl followed Amanvah to the floor. “Daughter of Hanya, sister to the Shar’Dama Ka.”

  “His daughter and his niece?” Rojer asked in surprise.

  Inevera bowed. “My husband has made it known that Everam speaks to you. He would not honor you with less than his own blood. Sikvah will make a suitable second wife, if you wish. Amanvah can then take over seeking future brides in accordance with your own taste.”

  “Creator, how many wives does one man need?” Leesha said.

  Jealous? Rojer thought irritably. Good. Have a taste of it, for once.

  Inevera looked at Leesha with disdain. “If he is worthy and they of him, a man should have as many as he can provide for and keep with child. But some,” she sneered at Leesha, “are not worthy.”

  “Who is Amanvah’s mother?” Elona asked before Leesha could respond.

  Inevera looked at her and raised a brow. Elona spread her skirts and dipped into a smooth, respectful curtsy that seemed utterly at odds with the woman Rojer knew. “Elona Paper of Deliverer’s Hollow. Leesha’s mother.”

  Inevera’s eyes widened at this news, and she smiled widely and went over to the woman, embracing her. “Of course, I am honored to meet you. There are a great many matters for us to discuss, but that is for another time. I understand the son of Jessum’s mother is with Everam. Will you stand for her in these proceedings?”

  “Of course,” Elona said, nodding, and Leesha glared at her.

  “Stand for her, how?” Rojer asked.

  Inevera smiled coyly. “To ensure you behave as they lift their veils, and to verify their virginity.” Rojer felt his face heat again, and he swallowed a lump in his throat.

  “I…” he began, but Inevera ignored him.

  “I am Amanvah’s mother,” she told Elona. “Does that meet with your approval?”

  “Of course,” Elona said gravely, as if there were any other answer a sane person might dare speak.

  Inevera nodded and turned to regard the others. “If you will excuse us, please?”

  Everyone stood still for a moment, but Elona clapped her hands, startling them all. “You heard her, shoo! Not you, Rojer.” She grabbed his arm as he turned to go with the rest.

  Only Leesha stood behind.

  “You have no place here, daughter of Erny,” Inevera said. “You are not family to the groom or brides.”

  “Oh, but I am, Damajah,” Leesha said. “If my mother stands for Rojer’s, then I, as her daughter, may take the place of his sister.” She smiled and leaned in close, lowering her voice. “The Evejah is quite clear on the matter,” she said smugly.

  Inevera scowled and opened her mouth, but Rojer cut her off. “I want her to stay.” The words ended in a squeak as Inevera turned to him, but then a wide smile licked across her face, and she bowed. “As you wish.”

  “Lock the doors, Leesha,” Elona ordered. “Can’t have Gared stumbling back in saying he forgot his axe.” Inevera laughed, and the sight of their joined amusement frightened Rojer more than anything. Elona seemed to know far more than Rojer about what was happening.

  Leesha seemed equally disturbed, but whether it was from the laughter or the casual way Elona ordered her around, he couldn’t be sure. She turned and strode to the huge gilded doors, throwing the bar with a sound that made Rojer jump. He felt more like they were locking him in than Gared and the others out.

  Inevera snapped her fingers, and the two girls straightened their backs, though they remained on their knees on the floor.

  “Amanvah is dama’ting,” Inevera said, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Healer, midwife, and chosen of Everam. She is young, but she has made her dice and passed every test.”

  She looked at Leesha and smiled. “Perhaps she can treat those cuts on your face,” she said, indicating the red lines on Leesha’s cheek from where Inevera had scratched her.

  Leesha smiled in return. “You seem to be blinking a great deal, Damajah. Do your eyes sting you? I could prepare a rinse, if you wish.”

  Rojer looked back to Inevera, expecting a vicious response, but Inevera simply smiled and went on. “I myself have given my husband eight sons and three daughters. The women of my family are similarly fertile, and the bones say Amanvah will breed true.”

  “Bones?” Leesha asked.

  Inevera scowled. “That is no concern of yours, chin,” she snapped.

  In an instant her smile was back in place. “What matters is that Amanvah will give you sons, son of Jessum. Sikvah’s mother was similarly fertile. She, too, will breed well for you.”

  “Yes, but can they sing?” Rojer asked, hoping to deflect the discomfort he was feeling. It was the punch line of a favorite bawdy joke of Arrick’s, a tale of a man who could never be satisfied no matter how many women he bedded.

  But Inevera only smiled and nodded. “Of course,” she said, snapping her fingers and barking an order to the girls in Krasian.

  Amanvah cleared her throat and began to sing, her voice rich and pure. Rojer didn’t understand the words, and had never had a knack for singing himself, but after years of performing with Arrick, the greatest singer of his time, he knew well
how to listen and judge it.

  Amanvah’s voice put Arrick’s to shame. It lifted him like a great wind, stealing the footing from under him and sweeping him away on its notes.

  But then a second wind came, wrapping itself around the other as Sikvah smoothly joined in. They found harmony instantly, and Rojer was stunned. Women or no, if they went to the Jongleurs’ Guild in Angiers, their careers would be assured.

  Rojer said nothing, standing in silence while the two women sang. When Inevera finally ended their song with a wave, he felt like a puppet with its strings suddenly cut.

  “Sikvah is also an accomplished cook,” Inevera said, “and both have been trained in the art of lovemaking, though they are unknown to man.”

  “The…ah, art?” Rojer asked, feeling his face heat again.

  Inevera laughed and snapped her fingers. Amanvah immediately rose, coming gracefully to her feet as she lifted a hand to unfasten her veil. The thin white silk drifted away like a wisp of smoke, revealing a face stunning in its beauty. Amanvah was her mother’s daughter.

  Sikvah came up behind her, undoing some hidden fastening at her shoulders, and Amanvah’s entire robe seemed to simply dissolve, the silk running off her to whisper to the floor. She stood naked before him, and Rojer gaped.

  Inevera circled a finger, and Amanvah obediently turned so Rojer could inspect her from every angle. Like her mother’s, Amanvah’s body was perfect, and Rojer began to fear even his motley pants were not loose enough. He wondered if he would be expected to undress as well, and have all the women see his arousal.

  “Creator, is all this truly necessary?” Leesha asked.

  “Be quiet,” Elona snapped. “Of course it is.”

  Amanvah turned and unfastened Sikvah’s own silk robe, and it vanished like a shadow in the sun, becoming an inky pool at her feet. She was not as beautiful as Amanvah, perhaps, but apart from the other women in the room with him just then, Rojer had never seen her equal.

  “You may verify their purity now,” Inevera said.

  “I…ah.” Rojer looked at his hands, and then hid them in his pockets. “That won’t be necessary.”

  Inevera laughed. “Your women,” she clarified, her smile mischievous. “Something must be saved for the wedding night, after all.” She winked at him, and Rojer felt dizzy.

  Inevera turned to Elona. “Would you care to do the honors?”

  “Ah…well…” Elona said, “my daughter is more qualified…”

  Leesha snorted. “My mother wouldn’t know a hymen if she saw one,” she whispered to Rojer. “She was rid of hers before she had a good look at it.”

  Elona caught the words and scowled, but she said nothing, glaring at Leesha.

  “Oh, all right,” Leesha growled at last, “anything to get this business concluded.” She bent to pick up the girls’ robes, then took their arms and led them into a small curtained servant alcove to the side of the hall.

  Leesha lowered the curtain, blocking them from view, and the girls obediently leaned over a small table, presenting themselves like brood mares. She had examined hundreds of young girls in her years as an Herb Gatherer, even the duchess of Angiers herself, but it was always for their health, not some honor ritual. Bruna had little patience for such nonsense, and her apprentice was no different.

  But Leesha knew too how fragile their relationship with the Krasians was. She would win no allies by publicly spitting on their traditions.

  Amanvah’s hymen was intact, but when Leesha reached for Sikvah, the girl flinched and gave a slight gasp. There was a sheen of sweat on her, and her olive skin seemed paler than before. She clenched tight when Leesha slipped a finger into her, but it was not enough. She wasn’t a virgin.

  Leesha smirked. As barbaric as this ritual was, it had just given them reason to claim offense and refuse the girls before Rojer said something foolish. But then the girl looked back at her, and the fear in her eyes was a slap in the face. Amanvah caught the look and scowled.

  “Get dressed,” Leesha told the girls, tossing them their robes. Sikvah quickly dressed and then moved to assist Amanvah, who glared at her as she fastened the dama’ting’s silk robe.

  Leesha’s face was serene as she returned with the girls. Rojer knew the verdict was irrelevant—he was no more going to marry Jardir’s daughter than Leesha was the man himself—but for some reason, his heart was thudding in his chest as if his life depended on the answer.

  “Both virgins, for what it’s worth,” Leesha said, and Rojer took a deep breath.

  “Of course,” Inevera smiled. But Amanvah did not seem to agree. She moved to her mother, whispering in her ear and pointing first at Sikvah, and then at Leesha.

  Inevera’s face darkened like the sky before a storm, and she strode over to Sikvah, grabbing the girl by her long braid. Rojer started for them, but Elona grabbed his arm so hard it hurt, holding him back with surprising strength.

  “Don’t be stupid, fiddle boy,” she hissed. Sikvah shrieked as she was dragged behind the examination curtain. Amanvah followed, pulling it shut behind them.

  “What in the Core just happened?” Rojer asked.

  Leesha sighed. “Sikvah’s not a virgin.”

  “But you said she was,” Rojer said.

  “I know what can happen to a girl when people start questioning her ‘purity,’ ” Leesha said, “and I’ll be corespawned before I do it to anyone else.”

  Elona shook her head. “Can’t save people from themselves, Leesha. Your little lie’s probably made it worse for her still. You’d just told the truth and let me ask for a bag of gold to make up for her lost value, it would be done with already.”

  “She’s a human being, Mother, not a…!”

  Rojer ignored them, his eyes on the curtain, and the poor girl with the beautiful voice. There was some muffled shouting, but Rojer could make no sense of it over the shrill cacophony beside him. “Will you both please shut it?!”

  Both women glared at him angrily, but they quieted. There was no sound from the curtain now, and that scared Rojer all the more. He was about to rush over when it opened and Inevera strode back to them, Amanvah and a weeping Sikvah in tow. Amanvah had her arm around the other girl, comforting her and offering support. Rojer’s heart went to them, and his hand slipped up to touch his medallion through his shirt.

  Inevera bowed to Rojer. “I apologize for the insult to you, son of Jessum. Your weed picker has lied to you. Sikvah is impure and will, of course, be punished severely for her lies. I beg you not to doubt my daughter’s honor by her association with this harlot.” She fingered the jeweled knife at her waist as she spoke, and Rojer was forced to wonder what sort of punishment these hard people considered “severe.”

  There was a pause as everyone waited for his response. Rojer’s eyes flicked around the room, and it seemed as if every woman was holding her breath. Why? They had given no thought to him at all a moment ago.

  But then it hit him. I’m the offended.

  He smiled, slipping into a Jongleur’s mask as he straightened his back and met Inevera’s eyes fully for the first time. “After hearing them sing, I’ll not break the set. Sikvah’s voice is more important to me than her purity.”

  Inevera relaxed slightly. “That is most forgiving of you. More than this harlot deserves.”

  “I’m not deciding anything yet,” Rojer clarified. “But I would prefer she not be subject to…undue stress that might affect her voice before I do.” Inevera smiled behind her gossamer veil as if he had passed some kind of test.

  Elona took Rojer by the arm, yanking him back. “This will affect the dower, of course.”

  Inevera nodded. “Of course. If you will agree to chaperone, the girls may stay in the son of Jessum’s wing, that he might accustom to them and ensure their lack of…stress before he makes his decision.”

  “Oh, my mother is an excellent chaperone,” Leesha muttered. Inevera looked at her curiously, as if unsure about the sarcasm in Leesha’s tone, but she said nothing
.

  Rojer shook his head, as if coming out of a dream. Did I just get promised?

  Abban arrived just before sunset to escort them to the whipping. Leesha made a last check of the herbs and implements in her basket, breathing deeply to quell her churning stomach. For what they did to Wonda, the dal’Sharum deserved no less, but that did not mean Leesha wanted to watch their backs torn open. After seeing how lax the Krasians were about healing, though, she worried the wounds might infect and kill the men anyway if she did not treat them herself.

  In Fort Angiers, she and Jizell had weekly treated men off the magistrate’s whipping post, but she ’d never been able to watch the punishment without weeping, and usually turned away. It was a horrid practice, though Leesha seldom had to treat the same man twice. They took the lesson and remembered.

  “I hope you understand the honor my master pays you and the daughter of Flinn by administering the whipping personally,” Abban said, “rather than leaving it to some dama who might be lenient in sympathy to their act.”

  “The dama have sympathy for rapists?” Leesha asked.

  Abban shook his head. “You must understand, mistress, that our ways are different from yours. The fact that you and your women walk freely with your faces and your, ah…” he waved a hand at Leesha’s low neckline, “charms showing offends a great many men, who fear you put illicit ideas into the minds of their own women.”

  “And so they sought to show Wonda her place,” Leesha said. Abban nodded.

  Leesha’s brow furrowed, but her stomach suddenly calmed. Intentionally hurting another human being went against her Gatherer’s oaths, but even Bruna had not hesitated to hand out a few painful lessons to folk who failed to act civilized.

  “My master has commanded that the Damaji attend as well, with their kai’Sharum,” Abban said. “He wishes them to see that they must accept some of your ways.”

  Leesha nodded. “Ahmann said it was much the same when he met the Par’chin.”