Examinations

— Iraj —

Iraj was among the first to climb the hill. The world felt smothered in the sudden humidity, and his ears felt like they were full of sand. The few people who kept up with him didn't speak, or else he didn't notice them through his damaged hearing. They crested the slippery mount impatiently but, once there, looked down with caution as if something might jump out of them. They didn't know what they would find.

Darkmaw was cooked. A thousand bolts of lightning had heated her until she cooked inside her shell and she busted open. Chunks of white flesh were everywhere, mingling with the rainwater next to dead Satomen and the shattered ruins of her shell. For good measure, the young maul had carved her down the middle and split her roughly in half. All her organs were on display, and he'd burned away the main nerve stem. The boy wasn't taking chances.

For some reason, people came to Iraj with their questions. Was it safe to go down into the pit now? Was the meat safe to eat? Could they loot the Satomen? Who got all the appalons? They were hard to make out, sounding as they did as if talking through layers of cloth.

Iraj got a healer's attention, and she was able to both heal his ears and answer some of the crowd's questions. Yes, the pit was safe now. Flesh that wasn't sitting in dead Satomen water should be safe to eat, but present any prospective food to a healer first, in case stinger venom got splashed onto it. She looked repulsed as she said it, but she'd been briefed this might happen. The other questions were all Iraj's problems to deal with.

"This victory belongs to Nexus and Maul Phillip and no one else," he told those gathered. "Help gather the loot, and Doyenne Anisca will handle it wisely. Find Kourosh, and bring me his belt." There were things the young maul still didn't know about being Calique.

Men went down the ropes, and meat and loot were hauled up. Swords and other articles of bronze, small jewels, the odd coin, and Kourosh's jacquard belt. It was absurdly wide (the man had aspired to be Pasha) and featured swords and desert eagles. Iraj wondered what had become of the woman who wove it. Was she living in Kashmar now, captive to some hook-handed officer? Fingers like hers were wasted on those savages.

Other mauls kept asking him questions, many of them nonsense, until some fool asked if their daughters were safe around Phillip. Iraj could only glare in return. A fight might have broken out if it weren't for one woman's laughter.

"Phillip the Younger, harm a girl?" It was Dahabia, one of several who had been rescued by him. "When we were prisoners he asked permission to rescue us, in case we were there by choice. And, when I asked him his price for this service, do you know what he said? We would have given anything but he said, 'The lives of fifty Satomen!'" Iraj had heard this story before. It was a brave line and she liked to tell it often. "If anything, he's a bit shy. But if it puts your frail little hearts at ease, I'll be the first to walk out with him and return unharmed. If that doesn't put the matter to rest … I'll have him all to myself, I suppose."

She turned to Iraj. "Tell him I'll be at the next gathering, and to ask me." She stepped aside to help organize the goods brought up from the pit, and sent a woman to count the appalons. Since Nexus didn't have tablas in the usual sense, she was volunteering for the role.

The mauls all gathered together and gazed for a long time at the monster that nearly broke their way of life. Even the "little" ones had been too much for them. If she had kept spawning children, they would have been run out of the desert before much longer.

"If he can do this, he can fight the Kashmari on his own." It was a most unfortunate comment, made by a maul from one of the smaller gardens. Iraj felt shame for the man. Phillip's acts were humbling, but that wasn't cause to abandon their responsibilities. Perhaps, if one were feeling generous, he hadn't meant they shouldn't fight alongside him, only that he didn't need them. But Iraj's feelings of charity evaporated like so much morning dew when he saw several men, people he'd known as men for years, nod their heads hopefully.

Perhaps today's performance had been too humbling.

Iraj opened his mouth to reason with them but Dahabia returned, and this time she used her woman's tongue on them without mercy. "Please tell me I did not just see you all agreeing with Bold Water! You want Nexus to do all the fighting when it's your homes at stake? And who would fight for you, anyway? I would tell him not to bother. First you refuse to recognize him, and now you can't even look him in the eye! Did you leave your spears at home, next to your brains?

"Maybe you don't deserve a Pasha. Maybe you'd be more comfortable with a tyrant, someone to tell you when to wake and when to sleep, someone you can kneel down for, put your forehead to the ground, and kiss his shoes? Maybe you've all become Kashmari!"

The men were already shame-faced, yet she wasn't done with them.

"I feel embarrassed that Phillip the Younger came all this way for allies, only to find men too afraid to look him in the eye and too weak to lift their shields. Did he go to Hyskos to hire mercenary slaves? Did he turn to Kashmar for peasant soldiers? Did he ask Gallia for their strutting peacocks? No! He came here, to live among men."

One of the women sorting loot waved at Dahabia, needing her attention. "I have women's work to do. I'm sure there's men's work to be done, if there are any men in the gardens to do it!"

She left the clutch of men grasping their battered pride in silence. Running Phlox was the first to speak. "My youngest son will need a wife soon." The group laughed ruefully, even Gohar, the elder maul of Broken Ode. The lashes had hurt, but Dahabia wasn't wrong. It was immoral to even think of leaving their homes' defense entirely in another's hands, no matter how strong he was. They had to share the labor if they wanted to eat the food.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"He's proven his arm," said Iraj, "and showed us his heart. Does anyone disagree?" A chorus of noes answered him.

"Do we need to bother with khartang at all?" asked Amadis. "If every garden wants him, he doesn't need the symbols for a selection ceremony. We should take his name to the doyennes, and raise him to Pasha."

"I still have qualms about his youth," complained Maul Gohar from Broken Ode. "I want to hear his mind before we decide."

"His mind?" Amadis of Dagono sighed. "Yalda says that might be his most dangerous tool."

The group of them marched down the hill to call on the youngest maul and found him in one of Nexus's underground bunkers. The room was smaller than where Iraj had first met him, but the layout was the same: a long narrow room with an arched ceiling, lit with spirit lamps, benches along the sides, and Phillip at the far end. He was seated on a wingback chair, stripped to the waist, one leg crossed easily over the other. His right arm was being examined by a healer while he drank water with his left. His injury wasn't black anymore, but his arm was covered in red complex fern-like patterns from his hand up to his shoulder.

"Are you sure you want to leave the skin as it is?" Asked the healer. Nexus didn't mind their healers being men but for some, it was a shock to see a man at such sensitive work.

"Keep it. I'm going to have it tattooed before it heals. Come in!" Phillip waved them in with his cup and sent someone away to fetch the necessary hospitality. "We're almost finished here."

"If you're going to keep it, I'd like to show it off to the students. Lightning strikes are rare, but they leave distinctive signs. Try not to push your spirit for a few days, until you've fully recovered. Let me know if there are any other side effects. You know the drill."

"Thank you, Brother." Phillip flipped a brass triangle at him, worth a meager eight bits.

"Always a pleasure, Brother. Walk in the light."

"You as well, Ferrange." The healer left, and the men arrayed themselves along the benches. Ma'Tocha was in the room along with Inez and the married pair. The wife held a slate while her husband and Inez watched them with an experienced eye for trouble. The instrument Phillip used to summon lightning leaned casually against the back wall. Its rich blue color drew their eyes, every now and then, as if to say remember me? I'm still here. He can use me at any time.

Some of the mauls still wouldn't look up at him, but pretended to by staring at his chest or chin. Since Iraj was the least uncomfortable he stood first to speak. "You've proven your arm and your heart. Most of us would accept you right now but some," he looked at the maul from Broken Ode, "still wish to question you."

"So? Ask."

Iraj sat to let Maul Gohar stand. He was the oldest maul, too old according to those who wished he'd step down in favor of someone more physical, but his wisdom wasn't in doubt. "How would you fight the Kashmari?"

"That depends on what they do, and how they react to our moves." Goha frowned, as if that was the wrong answer. "Anyone who thinks they can walk through wartime assuming everything will go as planned isn't competent to lead. The enemy gets a vote. Sometimes they surprise you, even if it's just by being stupid."

Phillip smiled as his examiner's face grew harsher. The old man wanted more. "Generally, this is a classic desert warfare scenario between asymmetric forces. Kashmar will have conscripted peasants with limited training, an elite cavalry corps, and officers who are disciplined and educated. They will almost certainly have help from Enclave. They usually do, even when I'm not here.

"Our force is much smaller, but it's all cavalry, and are all decent fighters. Our biggest assets are the desert, disciples, and time: They have a long march through hostile country if they want to take Sand Castle, and it always takes a toll on them. We'll use hit and run tactics to slow them down until they run out of supplies. They'll thirst or starve to death, and we'll finish off the survivors.

"Our greatest weakness is the static assets we have to protect: the gardens. Kashmar will attack the gardens to lure us into face-to-face fights we can't win against their numbers."

"So you've studied," said Gohar, "but whichever Kashmar general you're facing will have studied, too. He'll know the desert better than you do."

"First Prince Zaid, that's who they've chosen. And yes, he's well-educated. That's why we're going to change the desert," said Phillip with a mischievous smile. "Not drastically, just little changes here and there. They won't even notice until it's too late." A week ago, these men would have mocked such a claim. Iraj felt the warming spark of victory when they accepted the idea without comment.

Gohan wasn't giving up. "But how many wars have you fought? How many battles? At your age, the answer is none!"

Phillip chuckled gently to himself. "Typically, Kashmar gets assistance from countries around you. That's part of how they sap your strength. Only this time, I've tied up the Hyskos Grand Company with a budding slave revolt. Gallia and Ullidia will soon stand against Enclave openly. I've built an information network that'll tell us how many men they've assembled and how they're being trained. Enclave is Kashmar's biggest backer in these invasions, but I've put a major crimp on their money supply. Soon, I'm going to starve them. That's fewer soldiers for Kashmar."

Phillip stood, bare from the waist up, a hard-muscled youth with a lightning scar and a legend to his name. "You want to know what wars I've been in? Here's my answer: I've been fighting this war since spring. What have you been doing?"

That was the end of any resistance to Pasha Phillip. Even Gohar had to admit they had nobody better suited. It was soon agreed the gardens would rotate their men through Sand Castle in groups so Ma'Tocha could train them. The doyennes were brought in, including Anisca to represent Red Tower, and informed of the men's choice. The formal ceremony would be held when the main circle chamber in the city was clean enough to host it.

To mark the moment, milk-wine was poured and cups were raised. Iraj gave the toast: "The gardens are in Phillip the Younger's hands now. May Olyon have mercy on the souls of his enemies!"

The gathering didn't last long but it broke apart hopefully. Every doyenne and maul had their own work to do, and Sand Castle had to be cleaned. Iraj was the last to leave.

"This is Kourosh's belt," he told the Pasha-to-be, "and it's your proof you killed him. Either keep it with your trophies or burn it. Do not wear it unless you intend to take his place."

"I noticed adults wear these woven belts, but I didn't realize they had significance. To be honest, I've never looked too closely at them."

"The width indicates station. So many warp threads for people without children, so many for those with children or grandchildren, so many for hands, and more for tablas or spears. Doyennes and mauls have the widest belts. This one is so wide it's comical, but the craft is beautiful. If we ever find the woman who made it, she should be handled as a treasure."

"Then I'll keep it, for art's sake. I suppose I should have one of my own made."

"Take your time, little maul. Many men can't decide on a pattern until late in life. There's no rush."

"Thank you, Iraj, for everything. It was a lucky day for me when you tried to steal my animals."

"It was lucky for me it was your animals I tried to steal. Speaking of … "

The young maul laughed at his friend, amused by his itch to acquire new animals. "You missed out last time, didn't you? Because of Parsa. After Nexus takes some trainable mounts, you'll have the next pick. I promise."