My body tenses. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You ache to reclaim your clan’s throne and to be their left-hand vizier. You slave away in Za’skar to gain any information; to bring victory and unite the warlords. You wish to destroy Sajamistan. There is inevitability to this fate; will it not cause the death of every warrior here? The Eajiz children who will grow up and enlist?’ No-Name clasps a hand against my cheek.
I gaze into her bleak eyes. ‘I cannot think about a future that has yet to exist.’
‘You are blind to the true enemy.’
‘Enemy,’ I repeat quietly. ‘The enemy is the man they worship. The man who is the general of generals. These children may be naïve now, but in a few years, they will be trained beasts licking the Sepahbad’s hand, murdering another’s clan.’
No-Name grins with sharp teeth. ‘Who from your clan? Your uma wasted her life.’
‘Shut it,’I breathe, shoving my face in to hers. ‘Sajamistan did this; they left many like her to be abused in raids. They bred her fears. They killed her.’
Revenge. I’m determined to sustain the thought, but dread shadows it. Was revenge not my purpose – my vow? What honour remains for me if I cannot keep the promises I made even to myself? No one, not even children, will stop me.
‘Be gone,’ I order No-Name. She does not heed my command. Her features are fuller and familiar, as if I gaze into a reflection of myself. Hers aren’t simple whispers; her words are blades that open old wounds. And I cannot blot them; they only bleed more.
‘Master!’ Arezu choruses with the others, but I cannot look at them anymore. Za’skar and its copper gates and its bone-stone walls absorbing the crimson dawn is a city only satiated by blood. If its students did not bleed, the beast that was the city would not rest. A disturbing image. But I cannot say such a thing to the students, for it would ruin their dreams.
And of course, children are children through their dreams. Children only become monsters when all the dreams fade away.
The crowd of officers and warriors surges across the desert plains, patrons of disgruntled clanhouses cursing their warriors for their losses. I pass Fayez, rage blazing in his dark eyes as he snaps to Yabghu, ‘You failed to mention she’s a strategist.’
My overseer turns and says thoughtfully, ‘I had no idea either.’
I step around them, heart thundering.
‘If those loathsome tactics even count as a strategy,’ a new voice snarls. An arm lashes out; a hand wraps around my throat. A strangled sound escapes me. It’s Negar, her tunic stained and wrinkled, bone-pendants strewn across her mussed hair.
‘You reek of piss,’ I tell her placidly. Her other arm lifts, fist of iron-bone slamming against my cheek.
‘Negar!’ Yabghu peels her away. I sputter a cough before shoving her. ‘Usur-Khan!’
I glare at my overseer. ‘She committed violence against an underling, unprovoked. It’s an offence.’
At that, Negar spits at me. I do not flinch even as the dark goo slides down my jaw.
‘I do not mind,’ I encourage flatly. ‘After all, I warned you of my blood oath. The captain stomping upon me in the bazaar was paid in kind today.’
By now, the warriors and officers tread around us in a loose formation. Negar straightens, wrenching her anger back, an understanding settling in this mental battle. She failed to provoke me, but I provoked her, and she does not wish for me to do it again.
Captain Fayez shoves his way toward me.
‘What did you think of my natural order?’ I look about. ‘You respect power and its natural outcome. This is mine.’
‘Bringing children to a battlefield,’ Fayez scoffs. ‘Are you not a warrior with honour?’
What an absurd notion. Quite the opposite. ‘Yes,’ I lie.
‘You disgracefully used waste as weaponry,’ Negar juts in.
‘It qualifies as biological sapping,’ I reply coolly.
‘A young student pissed over my warriors.’
‘The best tacticians have foresight. A shame that you were unable to predict the creative novelties of my warriors.’
Yabghu steps between us. ‘Usur-Khan, you are delirious and bleeding, go to the healers.’
