The only thing the cellar of the Magistrate of Vert held a little of was open space. More casks of wine than could be drunk in a score of victory celebrations crowded next to bolts of enough fine silk to clothe every mercenary surrounding the house a dozen times over. Carpets and tapestries, carved wooden … Read more
“You longed to see the wonders of Vert,” Sabit said to Allamu as the eastern sky grew pale with the first blush of dawn. Below, the besiegers arranged themselves in ranks, steps in time with the quickening drums. “Now you shall exult in its grandeur until your bones fall to dust. The white marble of … Read more
The sound of the war drums never ceased. For three nights and three days, their inexorable rhythm had assaulted Sabit’s weary ears. Sometimes the drums beat soft and fast, sometimes they boomed loud and slow. Somehow the drummers seemed to know when the tall spear woman—or those trapped within the grand marble house with her—began … Read more
The forum of justice disgorged its occupants into the open plaza leading to the Magistrate’s house of white marble. Bunched close together, the main group of cloaked revelers staggered toward the Magistrate’s front doors. At the head of the motley assemblage, the house guards could see the Magistrate and the King of Rurr, arms locked … Read more
Sabit was still three strides from Qaansoole when the little archer reached her first arrow. Sabit was two strides away when the archer plucked her arrow from the sand. Sabit was one stride away—spear raised for a killing strike—when Qaansoole nocked the arrow and drew it to her cheek. Qaansoole’s arrow flew. Sabit sped past … Read more
The sun looked down from its zenith upon the forum of justice. The stands were nearly half-full today. The crowd—gathered by a case as monumental as the King of Rurr and a match-up as compelling as the undefeated archer against the rising spear woman—was still a pale shadow of the masses that had thronged to … Read more
The sun was low in the sky by the time the selection of champions was complete. The trial would be at noon the next day. Sabit paced the champions’ rack of weapons, trying each in turn. The balance of her new spear was not quite perfect, but there was no time for a new shaft … Read more
Eight days of the overseer’s training passed without any new contenders; eight days of grit and sweat and the crack of his many-tasseled whip; eight days of Sabit’s furious glares at Qaansoole. On the afternoon of the ninth day, the champions took to their double lines in the dusty forum grounds. The King of Rurr, … Read more
Sabit stalked back down the hall, the rising pulse of fury washing the fatigue from her limbs. The fog in her head from last night’s indulgence gave way to a crimson haze of rage. Bursting into Qaansoole’s open cell, Sabit found the archer strapping a sandal to her foot, having donned a tunic in the … Read more
The harsh clang of bronze sword against iron bars stabbed into Sabit’s head like a spear point driven through the eye. Tongue cloven to the roof of her mouth, her lips felt like tough strips of meat, salted for a long journey. Every joint felt swollen to twice its proper size—Sabit would almost rather her … Read more