‘You already are, son of Kasaad,’ Jardir said. ‘I am sorry that the cost of your path to wisdom brought so much pain to you and those around you, but wisdom is no small thing to be bargained for like a basket in the bazaar.’
He looked at the aura the two now shared and nodded, satisfied. He turned to Inevera. ‘Your mourning does Soli honour, beloved, but remember that you mourn not for him but for yourself. I regret I could not know him, but if your brother was half the man he is in your heart, he is twice the man Everam asks we be to join Him in Heaven. Likely Soli asu Kasaad am’Damaj am’Kaji has already supped at the Creator’s table and been returned to the Ala to aid our people in their time of need.’
He looked back to Kasaad, indicating he rise. The khaffit did so, slowly, and then opened his arms. Slowly at first, Inevera drifted towards them, but she closed the last steps in a rush, and they embraced tightly. Manvah threw her arms around them both.
Jardir watched as their auras became one, finally flowing together as a family should.
After a moment, Inevera looked up at him. He could see the love burning in her, but also her question before she could even utter it. ‘How did you know?’
To his surprise, it was Manvah who answered, squeezing her daughter’s shoulder. ‘He is the Deliverer, daughter. Kaji could see into the hearts of men, and he has been born again in Ahmann Jardir. The time for doubt is over.’
Jardir gritted his teeth as he entered his throne room, seeing Kajivah and Hanya waiting with Ashan and Shanjat. He could see the rage and indignation in their auras, and assumed he was in for another lengthy debate on the merits of Sharum’ting.
‘Everam’s balls, is a minute of peace too much to ask?’ Inevera muttered as she followed at his back. Jardir chuckled, but then Hanya turned to face him, and he saw her eye.
He was across the room in an eyeblink, cupping her chin firmly but gently as he examined the bruise. It was a dark, angry colour, but nothing compared with the darkness of his own anger.
‘Who struck you, sister?’ he asked quietly.
Hanya sobbed and did not answer. ‘Her worthless husband,’ Kajivah said for her. His sister’s aura confirmed it. Jardir turned to Shanjat.
‘He is already in custody, Deliverer,’ Shanjat said. ‘We found him in his quarters in the palace. He was lying in a pool of his own piss, drunk on couzi.’
Jardir drew a deep breath, embracing all his rage and letting it fall away as he climbed the steps to the Skull Throne. He did not trust himself in striking distance of the man. ‘Bring him before me. Now.’
Inevera squeezed his shoulder briefly in support before taking her place on the pillows beside his throne. He could feel the strength of her support, and drew upon it heavily.
Hasik was dragged into the room like an animal, held fast by two Sharum with alagai-catchers. His arms were chained to a metal band around his waist, with a spear shaft threaded through his elbows behind his back. His ankles were connected by a short length of chain. A bit kept his teeth open and his tongue pushed back, held in place with a tight leather strap. He was hungover, his aura bright with pain and impotent rage. Beneath that was shame, and fear. He knew what he had done, and what it meant. It was all Jardir could do not to kill him on sight.
‘Sister,’ he commanded instead. ‘Tell me everything that happened.’
Hanya was still sobbing, but with soothing from Kajivah, she managed to draw strength enough to look up and meet her brother’s eyes. ‘I do not understand it myself, brother. Hasik has been vexed with me before, but he has never drunk couzi, or struck me. But these last few days, he changed. He began sneaking bottles into our chambers, drinking too much and weeping to himself when he thought he was alone. I tried to offer comfort as a wife should, but all my efforts were rebuffed. Then, last night as he slept, I decided to … surprise him.’ Her aura grew hot with shame.
Jardir regretted forcing her to recount the story in open court, but what was done was done. ‘What happened then?’
Hanya’s aura was bright with pain and confusion to match her shame. ‘His manhood … it was gone.’
‘Gone?’ Jardir asked.
‘Cut away,’ Hanya said. ‘There was only a scar in its place, and a tiny metal tube.’ Ashan and Shanjat’s auras told him they had already heard this news, but he could see the discomfort the topic gave them still. Everyone in the room shifted uncomfortably, Jardir included. Only Inevera and the Damaji’ting, used to eunuch servants, were unperturbed.
Hanya’s aura told him the rest, though he could easily have guessed it. ‘Hasik woke, saw that you had seen his shame, and struck you.’
Hanya nodded, and Jardir turned back to Hasik. ‘Show me.’
The humiliation in Hasik’s aura was a scream in the air, but he stood slumped, not resisting as one of the guards pulled down his pantaloons, revealing that he had indeed lost his manhood. Jardir nodded to the guard, and he undid the strap, pulling the bit from Hasik’s teeth.
‘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.