Jardir thumped his spear, making her glance up at him.

“Spread the word to all who would see paradise at the end of the lonely path!” Jardir bellowed, his voice booming through the circle and into the streets. “Any woman who takes a demon in alagai’sharak shall be Sharum’ting, and have all the rights of Sharum accorded her!”

A shocked murmur ran through the assembled warriors, and Leesha saw horrified faces on dama and Sharum alike. Angry protests began, but Jardir silenced them with a roar.

“If any oppose this decree tonight,” he said, baring his teeth, “let them step forward. I promise a quick death with honor. To any who oppose my word tomorrow, I will not be so lenient.” There were many scowling faces in the crowd, but none foolish enough to step forward.

The next day, Abban arrived in the courtyard of the Palace of Mirrors with a dal’Sharum at his side. The warrior’s red night veil was around his shoulders, and his black beard was shot through with gray. There was nothing else remotely weak about the man, but Leesha was still surprised. Few of the Krasian warriors seemed to live long enough for their beards to be touched with gray at all. He walked proudly, but his hard face was pinched, as if he was biting back a scowl.

“May I present Gavram asu Chenin am’Kaval am’Kaji, Drillmaster of the Kaji’sharaj,” Abban said. The warrior bowed at the introduction, and Leesha spread her skirts and dipped a curtsy in response.

The warrior said something in Krasian, too fast for Leesha to follow, but Abban was quick to interpret. “He says, ‘I am here at the Deliverer’s command to train your warriors for alagai’sharak.’ Drillmaster Kaval was instructor to the Shar’Dama Ka and myself when we were in Sharaj,” Abban added. “There is no one better.”

Leesha’s eyes narrowed, and she looked at Abban, searching for the elusive truth in the practiced smoothness of his face. He was crippled in sharaj, after all.

Leesha turned to Gared and Wonda. “Do you wish to train?”

Kaval and Abban had a short exchange, again speaking so fast that Leesha, despite understanding many of the words, could still not follow. Abban seemed to argue a point, but Kaval balled a fist, and the khaffit bowed in submission.

“The drillmaster asks that I tell your warriors their wishes are irrelevant. The Shar’Dama Ka has given a command, and it will be followed.”

Leesha scowled and opened her mouth, but Gared cut her off. “S’allright, Leesh.” He put up a hand. “I want to learn.”

“Me, too,” Wonda said.

Leesha nodded and stepped aside as Kaval beckoned the two forward for examination. He grunted in approval at giant Gared, but seemed less impressed with Wonda, though she was as big and strong as most dal’Sharum. He then came back to Leesha.

“I can make a great warrior of the giant,” Abban translated, “if he is disciplined. The woman…we shall see.” He did not look hopeful.

The drillmaster stepped back into the courtyard, his movements quick and graceful. He looked at Gared and barked a command, thumping his chest.

“The drillmaster would like you to attack him,” Abban supplied.

“Din’t need you to translate that,” Gared said. He stepped forward, towering over the drillmaster, but Kaval seemed unimpressed. Gared roared and attacked, but his punches, careful though they were, met only air. He lunged to grapple and found himself on his back a moment later. Kaval twisted his arm until Gared screamed, and then released him.

“He will be even harder on you,” Abban advised Wonda. “Steel yourself.”

“Ent afraid,” Wonda said, stepping forth.

Wonda lasted longer than Gared, her moves smoother and quicker, but the outcome was never in doubt. Twice, Wonda’s blows came close enough that the drillmaster required contact to block them, but he responded once with a backhand to her jaw that sent her reeling and spitting blood, and the next time with a heavy blow to the stomach that doubled the girl over as she vomited the air from her stomach.

Kaval caught her arm before she could recover and twisted her to the cobbles. Wonda kicked him in the face as she went down, connecting solidly, but Kaval was unfazed, his mouth widening to a smile as he twisted her arm. Wonda’s face grew pale and she gritted her teeth, but she refused to cry out.

“The drillmaster will break her arm if she does not submit,” Abban warned.

“Wonda,” Leesha said, and the girl finally had the sense to let out a cry.

Kaval released her and said something to Abban in a grudging tone.

“Perhaps I can make something of her, after all,” Abban translated. “Please leave us, so we may train without distraction.”

Leesha looked at Gared and Wonda, and nodded. “Why don’t you join Rojer and I for tea, Abban.”

“I would be honored,” Abban said, bowing.

“But first,” Leesha said, her voice hardening, “make it clear to Master Kaval that there will be the Core to pay if I come back to find warriors too injured to fight tonight.”

Abban’s wives tried to serve them, but Amanvah hissed and they backed off. She clapped her hands, and Sikvah scurried to prepare the tea. Leesha wrinkled her nose. The girl might be Jardir’s niece, but even she was little more than a slave.

“They’ve been doing this since yesterday,” Rojer said. Amanvah said something in Krasian, and Abban nodded to her.

“It is our place to service Rojer’s needs,” he translated. “We will suffer it from no other.”

“I could get used this,” Rojer said with a grin, stretching back and putting his hands behind his head.

“Just don’t get too used to it,” Leesha said. “It isn’t going to last.” She saw Amanvah’s eyes tighten at that, but the girl said nothing.

Sikvah returned soon after with the tea. She served silently, eyes down, and then retreated to where Amanvah stood by the wall. Leesha took a sip of her tea, swirled it around her mouth for a moment, and then spit it back into the cup.

“You added a pinch of blackleaf powder to the mix,” she said to Sikvah, putting the cup back on the table. “Clever. Most people wouldn’t have tasted it, and at that dosage, it would take weeks to kill me.”

Rojer gasped, and spit his tea all over himself. Leesha caught his cup as it fell, and ran a finger along the porcelain rim, tasting the residue. “Nothing for you to worry over, Rojer. Seems they’re not quite so eager to be rid of you.”

Abban carefully put his cup back on the table. Amanvah looked at him and said something in Krasian.

“Ah…” Abban said to Leesha. “You make a serious accusation. Do you wish me to translate?”

“By all means,” Leesha laughed, “though I’ve no doubt she understood every word.”

Abban spoke, and Amanvah shrieked, running over to Leesha and shouting at her.

“The dama’ting calls you a liar and a fool,” Abban supplied.

Leesha smiled and held up her cup. “Tell her to drink it, then.”

Amanvah’s eyes blazed as she snatched the cup from her without waiting for translation. The liquid was still hot, but she lifted her veil and quaffed it in one gulp. She glared at Leesha with a look of smug triumph, but Leesha only smiled.

“Tell her I know she can just take the antidote tonight,” she said, “but if it’s the same one we use in the North, it will give her bloody shits for a week.” The color drained from the tiny patch of skin visible around Amanvah’s eyes even before Abban finished translating.

“The next time you try something like this, I’ll tell your father,” Leesha said, “and if I know him at all, your shared blood won’t keep him from stripping that pretty white robe off your back and tanning your hide, if he doesn’t kill you outright.”

Amanvah glared at her, but Leesha simply waved a dismissal. “Leave us.”

Amanvah hissed something. “It is not your place to dismiss us,” Abban translated.

Leesha turned to Rojer, who looked like he was going to be sick. “Send your brides to their chambers, Rojer.”