‘What happened to you, Hasik?’ Jardir demanded.
Hasik did not respond right away, his eyes still on the floor. ‘I thought it might grow back.’
‘Eh?’ Jardir asked.
‘If I killed enough alagai,’ Hasik said. ‘If I bathed in their magic, I thought it might grow back.’
Inevera nodded. ‘It does not work that way, Sharum. What is severed cannot be regrown. You only closed the wound.’ Hasik slumped again.
‘Who did this to you?’ Jardir asked. ‘You will still answer for striking my sister, but you are my brother-in-law and one of the Spears of the Deliverer. Any assault upon you is one upon me, as well.’
Hasik looked at him, but his shame and fear were overwhelming, and he did not speak.
‘The Deliverer asked you a question, dog!’ Ashan barked. Shanjat punched Hasik hard in the face, knocking him to the floor. Still, the giant Sharum was silent.
He would rather die than tell me, Jardir realized. Fortunately, for a Sharum there were worse fates than death.
‘Strip his blacks, and burn them,’ Jardir said. ‘Cut off the hand he struck my sister with and throw him out in tan. I will dissolve his marriage and he can live out his days a crippled khaffit, denied Heaven for all eternity.’
‘No, please!’ Hasik cried in anguish. ‘I have served you loyally! It was Abban! Abban the cursed khaffit!’ His aura said he was telling the truth, and upon hearing it, Jardir was not surprised that Hasik would have been ashamed to admit it.
Still, it presented him with a difficult problem. He looked to Shanjat. ‘Take a dozen men and find the khaffit. Bring him to me untouched. If there is so much as a hair out of place before I question him, it will be paid for ten thousandfold.’
Shanjat bowed, leaving quickly. Before long, he returned with Abban in tow. Hasik remained chained and noosed, but he had been allowed the dignity of his clothes once more. When Abban appeared, he recovered something of himself, seeming to slump as he prepared himself to spring. Jardir could see ghostly visions of him leaping at Abban as he planned the strike. If he could break free and kill the khaffit, the guards might slay him while he still wore his blacks.
Jardir looked to the men holding the alagai-catchers. These were Spears of the Deliverer, and no fools. They were prepared, pulling tight as Hasik sprang and choking him to the ground.
He turned back to regard Abban, probing deeply with his crownsight. The khaffit had already guessed the purpose of the summons, but his aura was calm. He was indeed guilty, but expected to talk his way out of this unscathed. Normally, Abban was skilled at masking his emotions, but here his arrogance was without end. He looked at Hasik flatly, but his aura was one of utter disdain and more than a little satisfaction.
‘Did you castrate Hasik?’ Jardir asked, wasting no time on pleasantries. His anger was only growing. He might be left with no choice but to kill his bodyguard and most favoured advisor both.
‘No, Deliverer,’ Abban said. It was truth, but not the whole truth.
‘Did you order your kha’Sharum to do it?’ he asked, losing patience.
Abban nodded. ‘Yes, Deliverer.’
The men in the room all began angry muttering, but Jardir thumped his spear, and they fell silent. Abban still stood there, calm.
‘I gave you those warriors to protect your business and facilitate trade, not to assault my warriors,’ Jardir said.
‘And so I have,’ Abban said. He turned to Hasik, lifting his crutch to point at the chained man. ‘That one, frustrated with your decree that I not be harmed, has been taking out his ire in my pavilion. You send him to me frequently as your errand boy, and without fail, he takes the opportunity to steal, or break precious merchandise for the pleasure of it.’
‘And for this, you sever his cock?!’ Jardir demanded.
Abban shook his head. ‘Trinkets and baubles are easily replaced, Deliverer. My daughter’s virginity is not. Nor the honour of my wives.’
‘The khaffit lies, Deliverer!’ Hasik shouted. ‘I never …!’
Jardir gave a curt gesture, and one of the guards tightened his noose, cutting off his words. ‘I am Shar’Dama Ka, Hasik, and can see your heart. The next lie that escapes your lips will cost you your life, your honour, and your place in Heaven.’
Hasik’s eyes widened, and his aura went cold.
‘Did you rape Abban’s daughter, Hasik?’ Jardir asked softly.
Hasik was weeping openly now. He did not have the strength to answer, but he nodded. Hanya began sobbing again. Kajivah pulled her daughter in close, catching the tears on her breast while she glared daggers at Hasik.
‘And his wives?’ Jardir asked. Again, a defeated nod.
‘Nevertheless, this cannot be allowed to stand, Deliverer,’ Ashan said. ‘If khaffit – even kha’Sharum – can kill dal, then all civilization crumbles.’
‘Your pardon, Damaji,’ Abban said, ‘but neither I nor my men have killed anyone.’ He gestured to Hasik. ‘As you can see, the Deliverer’s bodyguard is very much alive and able to continue his part in Sharak Ka.’
Jardir glared at him. ‘Why did you not come to me with this?’
Abban bowed as deeply as his crutch would allow. ‘The Shar’Dama Ka has more pressing matters than giving constant reprimands to overzealous Sharum and dama seeking to find loopholes to bully me without breaking your decree.’
Jardir did not miss the change in Shanjat’s and Ashan’s auras at those words. They, too, were guilty of the crime, if not so unsubtly as Hasik. He would have to deal with them in turn.
But then he looked back at Abban, and wondered. Abban was asking, nay, demanding, the right to defend himself. The khaffit stared at him calmly, daring him to take the Sharum’s side over his. If you are fool enough to turn on me over this, then my loyalty has been misplaced, his aura said.
Jardir sighed loudly. ‘Time and again, I have told men in this very hall that Abban is not to be harmed. He is my property, and any harm that comes to him will be from me alone.
‘Every man has the right to stop his daughter’s rape, or avenge it if he can. Even khaffit. Even chin. If Hasik was too weak to defend himself, then he was not worthy of the prize. His cock has gotten him in trouble for the last time. He has sons and daughters to carry on his name, and as the khaffit says, he is still fit for sharak.’
He looked to Hasik. ‘You have paid your due to Abban. The price for striking my sister is divorce, not only from your Jiwah Ka, but your other wives as well. I will not have my sister married to half a man. Hanya will keep her sister-wives, all your property and children.’ He could see how he was crushing Hasik’s spirit, but he did not pity the man. He still remembered what Hasik had done to him, all those years ago in the Maze.
‘You,’ he pointed his spear at the chained warrior, ‘will keep your spear, your shield, and your blacks. You are expelled from the Spears of the Deliverer, but Jayan will find you a new unit to fight for. None here will speak of your injury, and if discovered, you may say it was an alagai wound. Continue to win glory in the night, and you may yet see Heaven. Break Everam’s law again, with even so much as a cup of couzi, and I will see you cast into Nie’s abyss.’
He looked to Ashan and Shanjat. ‘I trust the lesson is clear to you, as well?’