Shanvah closed her eyes, breathing. ‘Alagai Ka said he would make a mount of my father.’
‘Indeed, I think it must be so. Imagine the damage Alagai Ka could do if it took over my mind, or that of one of the chin? We cannot risk touching it in anything but battle.’
‘Nor can you allow it to control my father without constant guard,’ Shanvah said.
‘We will separate them whenever possible,’ Jardir said, ‘but must assume that every time the Prince of Lies touches your father’s mind, it will learn all Shanjat has seen and heard. We can no longer speak freely in his presence. Nor can you let your guard down around him. There is no telling how much of Alagai Ka’s influence remains when they are apart.’
Shanvah placed her hands on the floor and bent to touch her forehead between them. Then she sat up and met his eyes again. ‘I understand my place in things, Uncle. I will not fail you.’
In her aura he saw it was true. She would carry this burden atop a broken heart all the way to the Core. He opened his arms, and after a moment Shanvah moved awkwardly into his embrace until he pulled her tight. ‘Of that, I have no doubt.’
The Par’chin noted Jardir’s sphere of silence as he and his jiwah returned to the group. He nodded, moving to sit between Jardir and Shanvah on the floor. Renna took up a place opposite him, all of them facing one another.
‘Gonna do this, it needs to be soon,’ the Par’chin said.
‘Agreed,’ Jardir said. ‘But not too soon.’
‘Ay, what’s that mean?’ the Par’chin asked.
‘It means I will see my Jiwah Ka before I go to the abyss,’ Jardir said. ‘I will hold her in my arms again, and have her cast her dice in my blood.’
‘Ent got time—’ the Par’chin began.
‘This is not a request, son of Jeph!’ Jardir made a lash of his words. ‘We must claim every advantage in this endeavour, and the dice can do much to counter the Prince of Lies.’
‘And if the dice conveniently tell her she ought to come along?’ the Par’chin asked.
‘Then she will come,’ Jardir said. ‘As your Jiwah Ka does. She will not dissemble with all Ala in the balance. Everything Inevera does, she does for Sharak Ka.’
He could see in the Par’chin’s aura that the man wanted to argue further, but he checked himself. ‘Fair enough. Ren and I should make a few stops, too. Let folk know what’s coming, we don’t find a miracle.’
334 AR
A stab of pain between his legs woke Abban from one of the rare lapses of consciousness that passed for sleep in his new reality. He sat up from the cold ground with a start, his foot joining the agony as he squinted in the firelight.
Hasik took his cock first. Abban had steeled himself, knowing it was coming, but nothing could truly prepare a man for that. He did it with his teeth, and made Abban watch.
Abban begged Everam to let him bleed out, or take a fever and die, but warriors of Hasik’s experience knew their way around wounds. He’d tied it off first, and burned the end.
Dampness between his thighs made Abban think the wound had reopened. His chains clinked as he scrambled to undo the drawstring of his ragged pants and check.
Abban might have prayed for death while it was going on, but now, cock or no cock, he meant very much to live. He pulled back the cloth. There was no fresh blood on the bandages, but they were stained yellow and soaking.
It was nothing new. Abban now pissed through a hollow needle punched into the charred flesh. He had no control, bladder draining steadily throughout the day. He was always wet between the legs now, and stank of piss.
Hasik laughed from the other side of the fire. ‘You’ll get used to it, khaffit. So used to wet pants they will grow as comfortable as dry. So used to the smell of your own piss you will sniff the air and smell nothing even as everyone around you complains of your stink.’
‘That’s hopeful, at least,’ Abban said, retying his pants. It wasn’t as if he had anything to change the dressing with. For now he would have to endure the wet.
‘Enjoy it while you can, khaffit.’ Hasik waved at the lightening sky. ‘The sun will rise soon. How many has it been?’
Abban gritted his teeth, but he knew better than to fail to answer. Hasik fed on his pain and anguish like Sharum fed on magic. But while a certain amount of torture was inevitable, there was nothing to be gained in making it worse.
‘Fourteen,’ Abban said. ‘A holy number. Fourteen days since you murdered the Deliverer’s son.’
Hasik laughed. He did so often now, his mood more jovial than Abban had ever seen. ‘And yours. No doubt you thought the poisoned blade at the end of your crutch was clever. How did it look shoved up Fahki’s ass while he foamed and shook?’
He chuckled again as Abban swallowed, uncharacteristically finding himself with no reply.
There was a crackle of magic and a flash of light. A lone wood demon paced the perimeter of their circle, searching for openings where none were to be found. Even the dimmest Sharum had the basic circle of protection beaten into his head by the time he earned his blacks, and Hasik was turning out to be brighter than he let on.
Hasik lay back on his saddle, hands behind his head. An empty bottle of some chin spirit lay beside him. His cold eyes followed the demon as it paced.
‘Why not kill it and have done?’ Abban asked. ‘Isn’t that what Sharum live for?’
Hasik spat in the demon’s direction. ‘All those years in sharaj and you never learned anything about us, did you, khaffit?’
‘I learned that you love carnage more than you hate the alagai,’ Abban said. ‘That you prefer weak foes to strong, particularly the soft chin. But drunk or not, I did not think you a coward, afraid of a single demon.’
He expected the words to get a rise from Hasik, but the warrior was unmoved. ‘I fear nothing, but I am through with Everam’s foolish war.’
‘Now, with Sharak Ka nigh?’ Abban probed. Hasik seemed to be in a rare moment of introspection. Perhaps he might learn something of use. Crippled, he could not flee Hasik. His only choice was to find a way to manipulate the warrior into keeping him alive until new opportunities presented themselves.
‘The Deliverer was to lead us in Sharak Ka,’ Hasik said. ‘But Ahmann was cast down in shame, and his son was pathetic. Who does that leave? Even if the rumours are true and the Par’chin is still alive, I’ll go to the abyss before I follow him.’
He swept a hand at the demon, watching their words with the blank stare of a camel. ‘I will fight demons when there is something to gain, but I am through killing them for Everam’s sake. What has the Creator ever done for me?’
Abban shook his head. ‘If the Creator exists, He is not without humour, that only now should we begin to understand each other.’
‘Perhaps it is because we both lack cocks now.’ Hasik smacked