Cashiv gave a shout of anguish, leaping on Kasaad and easily wrestling him to the floor, pressing his head down savagely. Kasaad’s friends moved to intercede, but Cashiv’s warriors blocked their path. ‘Soli never meant anything to you!’ Cashiv cried. ‘He is everything to me!’

‘You have twisted him with your push’ting ways!’ Kasaad growled. ‘A true Sharum would not suffer life as a cripple!’

Qeva tsked and shook her head. ‘As if their opinions matter a whit.’ She clapped her hands, a loud crack that sounded like thunder. ‘Enough! Out, all of you! Any unwounded Sharum still in this pavilion by the count of ten will be khaffit before the sun sets!’

That got everyone’s attention. The excess warriors scrambled outside, and Cashiv released Kasaad immediately, getting to his feet and bowing deeply. ‘I apologize for bringing violence to this place of healing, Dama’ting.’ He cast a pained look at Soli and fell to his knees, pressing his forehead to the floor. ‘I beg you, honoured Bride, please do not hold my actions against Soli. Even one-armed, he is worth a hundred other men.’

‘We will save him,’ Inevera said, though it was not her place. ‘I will not let my brother die.’

‘Broth …’ Kasaad looked up. ‘Everam’s beard, Inevera?!’

Recognition lit his face, and he moved with surprising speed, grabbing his spear off the floor and kicking his daughter aside. Caught off guard, Inevera hit the floor hard, looking up just in time to see Kasaad bury the point in Soli’s chest. ‘Better dead than a push’ting cripple spared by his sister’s soft heart!’

Cashiv had him in an instant, standing behind Kasaad with one iron arm around his throat and a long curved knife at his belly. Inevera rushed to Soli, but her father’s thrust had been true, and her brother was dead.

‘You do not deserve to die by alagai talon or spear,’ Cashiv growled in Kasaad’s ear. ‘I will gut you like a khaffit guts a pig, and watch as the life bleeds out of you. You deserve a thousand deaths, and in Nie’s abyss you will have them.’

Kasaad laughed. ‘I have done Everam’s will, and will drink from his rivers of wine in Heaven. The Evejah tells us, Suffer not the push’ting nor the cripple!’

Qeva approached. ‘It also says, Drink not of fermented grain … and It is death to strike one of Everam’s Betrothed.’

It was true. The punishment for striking a nie’dama’ting was the same as for a dama’ting – the striker was made khaffit, then executed. Only the offended woman could spare him.

Qeva took her own curved knife and began cutting the blacks from Kasaad. He screamed and thrashed, but she struck swift, precise blows to shatter his lines of power, and his limbs fell weak.

‘You are khaffit now, Kasaad of no name worth mentioning. You will forever sit outside Heaven’s gates, and should Everam in His wisdom one day take pity on your soul and send it back to Ala, pray you are less stupid in the next life.’ She turned to Inevera, handing her the knife. Cashiv pulled hard, arching Kasaad’s back and presenting her an easy target.

Kasaad wailed and begged, but there was no sympathy in the eyes around him. Finally he calmed and looked at Inevera. ‘If you will waste a true warrior for the sake of a one-armed push’ting, then so be it. Make it quick, daughter.’

Inevera met his eyes, rage boiling in her veins. The silver knife handle was hard and warm in her hand, moist with her sweat.

‘No, I will not kill my own father,’ she said at last. ‘And you do not deserve for it to be quick.’

She looked at Qeva. ‘The Evejah says I may spare him, if I wish.’

‘No!’ Cashiv shouted. ‘Nie take you, girl, you will give your brother justice! If your flesh is too pure to sully, only say the word and I will be your striking hand.’

‘You understand what sparing him means?’ Qeva asked Inevera, ignoring Cashiv completely. ‘Everam must be paid in blood for the offence given him.’

‘He will be paid,’ Inevera said.

Qeva nodded and took a tourniquet, wrapping it firmly around the leg Kasaad had kicked Inevera with. She looked to Cashiv. ‘Hold him tightly.’ The warrior nodded, tightening his iron grip.

Inevera didn’t hesitate, taking the sharp knife to her father’s knee like a butcher working a joint. Hot blood poured over her as his lower leg was severed with a pop right where the bones met. Kasaad’s screams carried all through the pavilion, but it was a place used to such sounds, and it seemed not amiss.

Inevera grabbed her father by the beard, cutting off his screams as she yanked his agonized face to look at her. ‘You will go to Manvah and serve her. Serve her like she is the Damaji’ting. Do this for the remainder of your days, and I may take pity and let you die in black.

‘But if you ever strike my mother again, or fail to obey her slightest whim, I will hear of it and take the other leg, and your arms as well. You will live a long life with no limbs to get you into trouble, and when you die as khaffit, you will be left for dogs to gnaw upon and shit onto the streets.’

Cashiv dropped Kasaad to the floor, bringing a fresh scream of anguish. He pointed a finger in Inevera’s face. ‘A limb? The limb of a worthless, drunken fool? That is how you value Soli?’

Inevera moved quickly, grabbing his finger and breaking it as easily as she broke the line of energy in his leg with a single raised knuckle. The limb collapsed and she caught him in a throw that put him heavily on his back. ‘You presume to judge my love of my brother? You think my ties of blood weaker than yours of semen?’

Cashiv looked at her, his eyes cold. ‘My soul is ready for the lonely path, Inevera vah Kasaad. I have killed many alagai, fathered a son, and I have not struck you. It is your right to kill me if you wish it, but you cannot deny me Heaven as you did your father. I will sit in Everam’s great hall by Soli’s side, and comfort him under the camel’s piss his sister pours on his memory with every breath that pig-eater takes.’

He sneered. ‘Strike. Do it!’ A madness came into his eyes, and Inevera realized he wanted her to. He was begging for it.

Inevera shook her head. ‘Begone from here. I will not kill you for loving my brother, even if it has made you a fool.’

After she returned to the palace, Inevera went quickly to the Vault. Few girls were there at that hour, and those hurrying to get ready for classes. Inevera was due to teach one herself before entering the Chamber of Shadows later that afternoon.

She saw nie’dama’ting Shaselle weaving her bido after a bath and snapped her fingers, getting the girl’s attention. Though older, Shaselle jumped at the sound. ‘I have matters to attend,’ Inevera said. ‘Take over teaching basic herbs to the second-years.’

‘Of course, nie’Damaji’ting.’ Shaselle bowed and scurried away to attend the matter.

Nie’Damaji’ting. Kenevah’s heir apparent. It was no formal title – likely any girl caught using it would be punished severely.

Inevera had never ordered another girl to teach for her, nor did she have any right to, but at the moment she didn’t care. All that mattered was she was alone at last. She threw herself onto her tiny cot and cried. She sought to capture the water in tear bottles she might offer to Everam with prayers for her brother’s soul, but her hands shook with her sobs, and the task was impossible. She buried her face in her pillow, letting the rough cloth soak up the tears.