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‘A tribe of eunuchs.’ Abban attempted to sit up. ‘I don’t suppose you have something I can use to poison the meat?’
‘If we had, I’d have used it long ago.’ The woman held out a hand to pull him to a sitting position. ‘I’m Dawn.’
‘A beautiful name,’ Abban said. ‘I am Abban asu Chabin am’Haman am’Kaji. I’ll need your help if I am to prepare a feast. I fear I will not be able to stand without crutches, and poorly even then.’
‘We have a chair with wheels my grandfather used before he passed,’ Dawn said.
‘Creator be praised,’ Abban said. ‘If you can help me into it, I would thank you. If Hasik wants a feast, we would be wise not to keep him waiting.’
Dawn nodded, leaving the room briefly and returning with the wheeled chair. It was handmade and crude, but sturdy enough to hold Abban’s considerable bulk.
‘How many warriors does Hasik have now?’ Abban asked as she wheeled him to the kitchen. Three women, one older and two younger, were already at work preparing the evening meal. A few had bruises, and all kept their eyes down.
‘Six still able to fight,’ Dawn said, ‘though all walk tenderly now. Two more with broken bones. Three left out in the snow.’
A shriek and a flash of light drew Abban’s attention to the window. It was dark, with snow blown up against the panes. No doubt the Sharum were out clearing the area of demons, eager for the healing magic to soothe their wounded groins.
They won’t grow back, Abban wanted to tell them. Magic would heal the wounds and broken bones, but it would not grow back what was severed.
‘And your family?’ Abban asked.
‘Seven.’ Dawn nodded to the other women. ‘My mother and daughters, my son-in-law, my husband and father-in-law.’
‘Did the Bajin kill anyone?’ Abban asked, reaching out to sniff at the spices on the rack.
Dawn shook her head. ‘They didn’t speak a word of Thesan, but it was clear they wanted slaves, not killing.’ One of the younger women sobbed at that, and her sister moved to comfort her.
‘Survival is hope,’ Abban said.
‘You’re not like the others,’ Dawn said. ‘You and the new master speak our language, and they treat you …’
‘I am khaffit,’ Abban said. ‘A coward. In the eyes of warriors, I am worth no more than you. It will be all our lives if the feast is not satisfactory. Let us look at the pigs.’
Abban shivered as Dawn wheeled him out into the evening snow, crossing the lamplit yard to the slaughterhouse. Sharum flitted about in the darkness beyond, illuminated here and there in a flash of wardlight.
The Bajin had killed most of the other animals, but the pigs they disdained. There were seven of them, fat and healthy. Abban’s mouth watered at the sight.
These will sell for a thousand draki apiece, to the right buyer. He shook his head at the useless thought. The bazaar was far away, and it was inevera whether Abban would ever see it again.
Live in the now, he reminded himself, or there will be no future.
Three chin men were in the slaughterhouse, all of them bruised and moving stiffly. Two were in their prime, the other older but still sturdy.
‘That one.’ Abban pointed to the best of the lot. The plump young hog squealed as the chin men slaughtered it. Abban left the men to the work, Dawn pushing him back to the kitchen that they might plan a menu.
Hasik found them in the yard. ‘It is good to see you awake, khaffit. I have not forgotten your promise to me.’ He seemed almost jovial, as if every man he gelded lessened his own shame that much more.
‘I always keep my promises,’ Abban said. ‘It will take a night and a day to roast the pig properly.’
Hasik nodded, touching the diamond in the centre of his kai’Sharum turban. There was a kernel of demon bone within, and when next he spoke, his voice boomed through house, yard, and barn. ‘The Eunuch tribe fasts until sunset! Any caught touching food before I give word at tomorrow’s feast will lose his tongue as well as his cock.’
‘You’ll recall how such taunts ended for me,’ Abban noted.
Hasik shrugged. ‘One day I will be weak, and man or alagai will kill me. Until then, I am strong, and will taunt as I please.’ He looked out into the night. ‘Already the wounds to their flesh have healed. A fast and a feast will help them begin to accept their new lives.’
Abban nodded. ‘The kai is wise. It will be a meal they never forget.’
‘It had better,’ Hasik said, ‘Or the chin women will roast you next.’
Abban passed out in the barn, cradled by the wheeled chair, basking in the heat of the coals and the scent of roasting pig. It was the closest he’d been to comfortable in all the weeks of his captivity.
Which only made the white-hot spike of agony that woke him all the worse.
His eyes snapped open to see Hasik kneeling before him with his small hammer, dawn light coming through the barn door. While Abban slept, he had freed the khaffit’s foot from the chair, placed it on a block, and broken another bone for Everam.
Hasik laughed as Abban screamed. ‘I never tire of that sound, khaffit! I want you to know what it means to wake in anguish every day.’
‘You …’ Abban coughed.
‘What was that, khaffit?’ Hasik asked.
‘… didn’t …’ Abban laboured for breath, every word heavy on his tongue. ‘… even … let … me … offer … my … bribe.’
Hasik smiled. ‘Was it a good one?’
Abban nodded. ‘A … pleasure even the … Damaji fear to … indulge.’
Hasik stood, crossing his arms. ‘This I must hear.’
‘A dozen heasah,’ Abban said. ‘Chosen because they look nearly identical to the Damajah, to pillow dance for you.’
Hasik grew red in the face, and Abban realized his mistake. ‘And what am I to do with heasah, without my cock?’
‘There are straps heasah sometimes wear, to simulate having a man’s spear,’ Abban said. ‘I did not lie when I said I could give you a cock of gold, smoother, larger, and stiffer than the real thing ever was.’
‘If I wanted to shame myself with such a harness, it would not be the Damajah I would wish to fuck.’ Hasik leered at him. ‘No, it would be you I make howl, khaffit. Louder even than your daughters and wives.’
He stuck the hammer back in his belt. ‘Now get back to making my feast.’
Everam, if I but had a drop of tunnel asp venom, Abban thought, but he knew it was a lie. Here, crippled deep in the green lands with Sharum deserters looting and pillaging, he would be a fool to poison Hasik. The powerful kai’Sharum was his only hope for survival until they reached Krasian lands or Abban’s network in the Hollow.
‘Better a bone at a time than a spear in the back, or a chin noose around my neck,’ he muttered.
And so he roasted the pig with utmost care, glazing the skin to a hard, delicious shell connected to the moist, hot meat by a melted layer of fat. He directed the women as well, teaching them to roll couscous and prepare dishes suited to Krasian palates. There was a Bajin pea dish that could be reasonably approximated with Northern corn, and Abban had them make it in plenty to honour Hasik’s new men.
Hasik was in good spirits throughout the day. Abban made sure the chin fasted as well, and the smells teased everyone at the farm. By sunset, even the Bajin seemed eager when they were called to the table.
The Sharum had taken a pair of Northern feasting tables and cut the legs short, laying them end-to-end. Hasik was already kneeling upon a bed of pillows at the table’s head when the others arrived. ‘Orman.’ He gestured to the single pillow to his right. The Bajin leader glared at him but wasn’t willing to challenge Hasik again. He knelt, eyes down. The other warriors followed suit, kneeling on the bare floor four to a side.
When the warriors settled, Hasik pointed to the foot of the table. ‘Chin.’
The three Angierian men kept their distance, circling out of reach until they knelt together at the foot of the table, tense with fear.
The Bajin scowled, and Orman spoke up. ‘We are to sup with chin?’
Hasik’s hand was a blur, gripping the warrior’s beard and pulling hard, smashing his face into the table. He roared and struggled, but Hasik kept the thick hair in his fist, holding him prone until he calmed.
‘Perhaps you thought kneeling at my right gives you leave to question me.’ Hasik said. ‘Do you still succour such foolish thoughts?’
Orman shook his head slowly. ‘No.’
‘No?’ Hasik asked.
‘No, master,’ Orman said.
Hasik grunted, letting go his beard and acting as if nothing had happened. ‘Sharum sit.’
The warriors shifted from kneeling to sitting with military skill. How many hours had they spent drilling it in sharaj? The chin stayed on their knees as Abban had instructed, setting them apart. The Bajin seemed mollified at this.
No place for me, Abban noted, pleased to be relegated to the kitchen, invisible. He sent the women back and forth, filling the table with steaming platters that held the attention of the hungry men. They inhaled deeply, tasting with their noses as mouths began to water.
At last they wheeled the animal out, still dripping on the spit. The melting fat pooled in a tray beneath the succulent beast.
‘Prepare your bellies for a wonder you have never dreamed of,’ Abban said, smiling at the looks the men cast the pig. Even mighty Sharum could be ensorcelled by the scent of pork. His own belly groaned and grumbled, desperate to partake.
‘Come and sit behind me at my left while I taste this wonder, khaffit,’ Hasik said.
‘The kai honours me,’ Abban said.
‘Nonsense,’ Hasik said. ‘I merely wish to ensure you continue your fast. You are too fat, Abban. You will see it is for your own good.’
Abban was so hungry he would have sacrificed another bone for a taste of pork, but it was pointless to argue. Orman, Hasik would settle for humiliating. If Abban questioned him in front of the men, Hasik would have no choice but to kill him.
Or worse, Abban thought. He took a deep breath. For now, he was worth less than a warrior, but once Hasik tasted the pig, Abban knew his value would soar.
Still Hasik did not give permission to eat. He clasped his hands and closed his eyes. The others at the table immediately did likewise.
‘Blessed Everam,’ Hasik said, ‘He who honours the strong. We thank you for the feast before us. It may be against your law to sup on the flesh of pigs, but you have shown me your laws are for the weak.’
He paused. ‘I was weak, once. Driven by pleasures of the flesh even when they brought pain and misfortune upon me again and again. I made the weakest part of me my ruler.’ He straightened. ‘Now that part of me is severed, and I am free at last. Free to see the world around me without weakness. I see for the first time the grains in the dunes, and know I am stronger for it.’
He looked at the Bajin. ‘No doubt you would all put a spear in me given the chance, but you will see now how you, too, are free. How we have become strong.’
He looked to Orman. ‘Are there other Sharum in the area?’
Orman nodded. ‘A dozen Khanjin have taken a farm down the road.’
‘You and your men will soon have a chance to visit your shame on your night brothers.’ Hasik smiled. ‘You will find nothing eases your torment like sharing it.’
The Bajin remained grim-faced, but Abban could see the words stoked a new hunger in their eyes. Hasik was not wrong.
Hasik looked at the chin, switching to their language. ‘Everam smiles on you, chin. In the new order, even you may claim honour. The choice is yours. You can be slaves, or you can learn to fight and join us.’
The younger men froze, turning to look at their patriarch. He hesitated, but only for a moment. He bowed as Abban taught him, placing his hands on the floor and touching his forehead between them.
‘We will fight.’
‘Then let us seal it with a feast!’ Hasik called. He lifted the haunch Abban had carved him, and the skin crackled as he bit into it and tore away a mouthful of flesh. His eyes widened, and then it was chaos as the men tore into the food.
Abban watched in pain as they stuffed themselves, but he kept his mask in place, giving Hasik a look pathetic enough to satisfy him as he mocked the starving khaffit with his glistening fingers and lips.
There was Northern ale, and it flowed freely as they ate. Soon the Bajin were laughing, and even the chin seemed to relax. When the plates had been emptied and filled and emptied again, they began to slow, eating more for pleasure than hunger. Hasik lounged back on his bed of pillows as they sang warrior songs.
At last the women cleared the empty bowls and carcass from the room, and Hasik looked at the chin.
‘You have eaten of my pig,’ he said. ‘There is only one more thing keeping you from joining the Eunuchs.’
The chin looked at one another in confusion as Orman laughed, drawing a knife.
8 (#ulink_52e1d0aa-fbed-5d55-8232-b071dafd4842)
Monastery (#ulink_52e1d0aa-fbed-5d55-8232-b071dafd4842)
334 AR
‘A dozen fat slaves, dressed as me,’ Abban promised. ‘One delivered the first day of the month to torture until you kill them in a new and inventive fashion on Waning and begin anew.’
‘I admit, that is a good one,’ Hasik said.
‘Spare me, and I can make it reality,’ Abban said.
Hasik clicked his tongue. ‘There is where it fails, khaffit. What good is pretending vengeance for a year when true vengeance escapes?’
‘Then I will lease my life,’ Abban offered. ‘One slave dressed to look like me each Waning until you collect in full.’
Hasik pursed his lips. ‘The idea has merit. I will take a few months to consider.’
Then he swung the hammer, and Abban screamed.
The Eunuchs and slaves were used to it now, ignoring Abban’s wails and whimpers. Once, when a blood fever from his shattered bones had threatened to kill Abban, Dawn had begged on his behalf.
Hasik had warded Abban’s leg and smeared it with stinking alagai ichor. The demon blood activated the wards and healed Abban. His strength and vigour returned, sweeping away the pain, but the shattered bones of his leg and foot fused into a twisted ruin. Abban doubted even a healer as powerful as the Damajah could make him walk again.
Then Hasik cut the noses from Dawn and her daughters, a permanent warning to all that might take pity on him again.
Hasik was gone by the time Abban mastered his pain enough to crawl into his chair. The camp was full of activity as Abban wheeled to Hasik’s tent, slaves rushing to and fro to service the warriors.
In the past five weeks, the Eunuchs had swollen massively in number. First in fits and starts as Hasik hunted Sharum deserters, catching warriors sometimes in ones and twos, and other times in sizeable bands. The freshest recruits were always the most eager to capture and castrate new members, as if cutting off another man’s cock somehow helped their own healing.
