The Skull Throne. Peter Brett V.

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      Jardir averted his eyes, giving the Par’chin and his jiwah privacy in their greeting. Her arrival with the horses meant their trip to face the alagai princes was nigh, and Jardir was eager for the test, but there was disappointment, as well. Alone, he and the Par’chin had begun to find accord at last. The addition of his unpredictable Jiwah Ka could upset that precarious balance.

      The sun crested the horizon at last, and Jardir breathed deeply, falling into his morning meditation as the bodies of the alagai began to smoke and burn. Everam always returned things to balance. He must keep faith in inevera.

      When the flames had died down, they took the horses to the stable beside the hidden tower. Up close, the animals were enormous, the size of camels. The wild mustang that roamed the green lands had grown powerful in their nightly struggle with the alagai. His Sharum had captured and managed to train hundreds of them, but these were magnificent specimens, even so.

      The black stallion that nuzzled the Par’chin’s hand, its body covered in warded armour and its head adorned with a pair of metal horns that could punch through a rock demon, could only be his famed horse Twilight Dancer. His jiwah’s piebald mare was almost of a size with it, wards painted on its spots and cut into its hooves. A simple leather girth wrapped its belly to help her keep her seat.

      There were two other stallions and a mare, all of them with warded saddles and hooves. Powerful beasts – it was surprising even Twilight Dancer could keep them all in line. They stamped and pranced, but followed the lead into the stalls.

      ‘Why are there five horses, if there are only three of us?’ he demanded. ‘Who else have you taken upon yourself to invite to undertake this sacred journey, Par’chin? You claim to need my help, but you keep me blind to your plans.’

      ‘Plan was for it to be the three of us, Ahmann, but it hit a snag. Hoping you’ll help me get it unstuck.’

      Jardir looked at him curiously. The Par’chin sighed and nodded to the back of the stable. ‘Come with me.’

      He lifted an old rug out of the way, shaking off a camouflage of dust and hay. Underneath was a pull-ring to a trapdoor. He lifted the trap and descended into the darkness below. Jardir followed warily, aware that the Par’chin’s jiwah followed behind. Jardir did not fear her, but the strength of her aura told him she was powerful. Enough to give the Par’chin a telling advantage should they come to blows.

      His crownsight returned as they slipped back into darkness, but the Par’chin’s wards began to glow anyway, sending the shadows fleeing as he led them to a heavy door, banded with steel and etched with powerful wards.

      The Par’chin opened the door, casting light on the man and woman, clad only in their bidos, imprisoned within.

      Shanjat and Shanvah looked up from their embrace, squinting in the sudden light.

      

       8

       The True Warrior

      333 AR Autumn

      ‘Deliverer!’ Shanjat and Shanvah leapt to their feet, moving to stand apart. Without veil or robe, there was nothing to hide the blush of their skin or the guilty looks on their faces.

      Indeed, their auras matched the look, shame and embarrassment palpable. Jardir assessed the situation, and his eyes darkened. Even if Shanvah had lain with him willingly, she was Shanjat’s daughter, and Jardir’s niece. Whether his spirit was penitent or not, Jardir would have no choice but to sentence his old friend to death.

      He considered the thought grimly. Shanjat had served him loyally since the two of them were children in sharaj, and proven a good husband for his sister Hoshvah. More, Jardir needed Shanjat and the Sharum he commanded at his side when the First War began in full. Perhaps he could commute the sentence until after Sharak Ka. Give his loyal servant a chance to die on alagai talons and bring that his honour with him on the lonely path before he stood before Everam to be judged.

      ‘Forgive us, Deliverer, we have failed you!’ Shanjat cried before Jardir could utter a word. He and Shanvah fell to their knees, pressing hands and foreheads to the dirt floor. ‘I swear by Everam we tried every method in our power to escape and continue our search for you, but the Par’chin—’

      ‘—is using hora magic to strengthen our cell,’ Shanvah cut in. Her fingernails were raw and dirty. In wardsight, Jardir could see the scratches where she and her father had tested every inch of their prison.

      He looked around the room, seeing no robes or veils. Of course the Par’chin would have stripped and searched them before imprisoning them. Even he was not such a fool as to leave them tools to escape. The only other thing in the room was a covered chamber pot, too small and fragile to make an effective weapon.

      Suddenly Jardir was the one to feel ashamed. Was the caress of parent and child, trapped in a lightless cell, a crime? He had been ready to assume the worst, to sentence one of his oldest friends to death, when his only guilt stemmed from the fear СКАЧАТЬ