Kasaad coughed blood, pushing himself up onto his elbows. ‘Harlots! When the dama hear of this …!’

Krisha cut him off with a cackling laugh. ‘The dama? Will you go to them, Kasaad son of Kasaad, and tell them you were drunk on couzi and beaten by women? You won’t even tell your ajin’pal as he buggers you tonight!’

Kasaad struggled to rise, but one of the women gave him a quick kick to the stomach, and he was knocked onto his back. He did not stir.

‘Pfagh!’ the woman cried. ‘He’s pissed himself like an infant!’ They all laughed.

‘That gives me an idea!’ Krisha cried, going over to a scattered pile of baskets and hiking up her robes. ‘Why get ourselves in a sweat breaking these abysmal baskets when we can just soil them instead?’ She squatted and let her water flow, swinging her hips from side to side so the stream hit as many baskets as possible. The other women laughed, hiking their robes to do likewise.

‘Poor Manvah!’ Krisha mocked. ‘Two males in the family, and not a man among them. Your husband is worse than a khaffit, and your push’ting son is too busy sucking cock to even be here.’

‘Not quite.’ Inevera turned in time to see Soli’s thick hand close on the wrist of one of the young women holding her. The woman shrieked in pain as Soli yanked up with a cruel twist, then kicked out, sending her sister sprawling.

‘Shut it,’ he told the screaming woman, shoving her back. ‘Touch my sister again and I’ll sever your wrist instead of just twisting it.’

‘We shall see, push’ting,’ Krisha said. Her sister-wives had straightened their robes and were advancing on Soli, staves at the ready. Krisha flicked her wrist, and her own club fell into her hand.

Inevera gasped, but Soli, unarmed, approached them without fear. The first woman struck at him, but Soli was quicker, slipping to the side of the blow and catching the woman’s arm. There was a snap, and she fell screaming to the ground, her staff now in Soli’s hand. The other woman came at him, and he parried one blow from her staff before striking her hard across the face. His movements were smooth and practised, like a dance. Inevera had watched him practise sharusahk when he came home from Hannu Pash on Wanings. The woman hit the ground, and Inevera saw her lower her veil to cough out a great wad of blood.

Soli dropped his staff as Krisha came at him, simply catching her weapon in his bare hand and stopping it cold. He seized her by the collar with the other, turning her around and bending her over a pile of baskets. He slammed her head down for good measure and reached down for the hem of her robes, yanking them up to her waist.

‘Please,’ Krisha wailed. ‘Do as you will to me, but spare my daughters their virginity!’

‘Pfagh!’ Soli spat, his face a mask of disgust. ‘I would as soon fuck a camel as you!’

‘Oh, come, push’ting,’ she sneered, wiggling her hips at him. ‘Pretend I’m a man and have my ass.’

Soli took Krisha’s rattan staff and began whipping her with it. His voice was deep, and carried over the sound of the wood cracking loudly on her bare flesh and her howls of pain. ‘A man need not be push’ting to avoid sticking his cock in a dung-heap. And as for your daughters, I would do nothing that might delay them marrying some poor khaffit and finally putting veils on their ugly faces.’

He took his hand off her neck, but continued whipping, guiding her and the other women out of their kiosk with sharp blows. Krisha’s daughters helped support her sister-wives as the five women stumbled off down the lane.

Manvah got to her feet and dusted herself off. She ignored Kasaad, going over to Inevera. ‘Are you all right?’ Inevera nodded.

‘Check the stock,’ Manvah said. ‘They didn’t have much time. See if we can salvage …’

‘Too late,’ Soli said, pointing down the lane. Three Sharum approached, their black robes sleeveless, with breastplates of black steel hammered to enhance already perfectly muscled chests. Black silk bands were tied around their bulging biceps and they wore studded leather bracers at their wrists. Bright golden shields were strapped to their backs, and they carried their short spears casually, sauntering with the easy grace of stalking wolves.

Manvah grabbed a small pitcher of water and dumped it on Kasaad, who groaned and half rose to his feet.

‘Inside, quickly!’ Manvah snapped, kicking him hard to get him moving. Kasaad grunted, but he managed to crawl into the tent and out of sight.

‘How do I look?’ Soli brushed and tugged at his robes, opening the front further.

It was a ridiculous question. No man she had ever seen was half so beautiful as her brother. ‘Fine,’ Inevera whispered back.

‘Soli, my sweet ajin’pal!’ Cashiv called. He was twenty-five, a kai’Sharum, and easily the handsomest of the three, his beard close-cropped with scented oil and his skin a perfect sun-brown. His breastplate was adorned with the sunburst of Dama Baden – no doubt in real gold – and the centre of his turban was adorned with a large turquoise. ‘I’d hoped to find you here when we came to pick up the night’s …’ He drew close enough to see the chaos in their kiosk, ‘order. Oh, dear. Did a herd of camels pass through your tent?’ He sniffed. ‘Pissing as they went?’ He took the white silk night veil resting loose around his neck and lifted it over his nose. His compatriots did likewise.

‘We had some … trouble,’ Soli said. ‘My fault, for stepping away for a few minutes.’

‘That is a terrible shame.’ Cashiv went over to Soli, taking no note of Inevera whatsoever. He reached out a finger, running it over Soli’s muscled chest where a bit of blood had spattered. He rubbed the blood thoughtfully between his thumb and forefinger. ‘It seems as though you returned in time to handle things, though.’

‘That particular herd of camels is unlikely to come back,’ Soli agreed.

‘Their work is done, though,’ Cashiv said sadly. ‘We’ll have to buy our baskets from Krisha again.’

‘Please,’ Soli said, laying a hand on Cashiv’s arm, ‘we need this order. Not all the stock was ruined. Might we sell you half, at least?’

Cashiv looked down at the hand on his arm and smiled. He waved dismissively at the clutter of baskets. ‘Pfagh! If one’s been pissed on, they all have. I will not take such tainted goods to my master. Dump a bucket on them and sell them to khaffit.’

He moved in closer, putting his hand back on Soli’s chest. ‘But if it’s money you need, perhaps you can earn it carrying baskets at the party tomorrow instead of selling them.’ He slid his fingers up under Soli’s loosened robe to caress his shoulder. ‘You could return home with the price of the baskets three times over, if you … carry well.’

Soli smiled. ‘Baskets are my business, Cashiv. No one carries better.’

Cashiv laughed. ‘We’ll be by tomorrow morning to collect you for the party.’

‘Meet me in the training grounds,’ Soli said. Cashiv nodded, and he and his fellows sauntered off down the lane towards Krisha’s kiosk.

Manvah laid a hand on Soli’s shoulder. ‘Sorry you had to do that, my son.’

Soli shrugged. ‘Some days you’re the cock, and some days you’re the bum. I just hate that Krisha won.’