‘The Easkaria teaches that victory is achieved not solely through knowing yourself, but through understanding the enemy.’ I turn to Fayez. ‘Today I learnt you are shit. As was your strategy – shit. As was your leadership, also shit. All that makes you reeks, my captain.’ I tack on the honorific, unsure if it is an offence to forgo it now. ‘Bested by damned children despite being a Fifth-Slash. You walk so haughtily, you are blind to the strength lurking below.’
Yabghu’s gaze flits helplessly between us. We do not dare move.
Fayez curls his fingers but does not touch me. ‘You sacrificed pawns in battles, flinging them like rocks at jinn. If this had been a real battle, you might have won, but you would be the last one standing.’
I stare back. On the battlefield, he thinks I would resort to petty baits, that I would have my warriors devoured by a beast. Even so, what of it? Soldiers are meant to be pawns. We are all pawns.
‘The best commanders do the things nobody else dares do, the things the world would hate them for, but the things that are necessary. Swallow your pain or let it fester, it makes little difference,’ I say.
‘And if this were a real martial duel, coded by honour?’
‘I would win again,’ I state carefully.
‘A Duxzam duel, the truest test of strength. Gamble away, imprudent warrior.’
Murmurs of disquiet ripple through the crowd.
‘Duxzam?’ I taste the word, recognising it. The martial custom for high-ranks. Yabghu said the Sepahbad used it to become martial-vizier.
My overseer’s eyes grow large. ‘Fayez. She is yet to be a ranked soldier; she isn’t First-Slash!’
‘With the Marka’s outcome, she will be First-Slash, and permitted to duel,’ he says ominously.
‘This is foolish. She will be obliterated by you, in seconds,’ Negar scoffs.
‘Speak openly,’ I demand.
‘The Duxzam existed before the creation of humanity, before Prophet Adam, when the tribes of jinn-folk settled disputes for land and honour through holy battle. This is now a custom in the martial clans of Sajamistan. By declaring a Heavenly Oath, two warriors agree to gamble a stake on mutually agreed terms. The winner of the duel takes the stake. If they break the vow, their souls are condemned, losing Heavenly Energy. Battling in Duxzam is how high-ranks have grown stronger; how matters and disputes are settled in Za’skar and beyond; how even the rank of Sepahbad is decided. But a warrior cannot always battle at the Duxzam, for each Heavenly Oath comes with a severe cost. High-ranks partake in a duel each lunar year.’ Fayez grins roguishly. ‘No man nor jinn-folk can interfere in the holy battle unless by Heaven’s will.’
I nearly fall at this. ‘What do warriors gamble in a Duxzam?’ I ask breathlessly.
‘Wealth, land, honour, Heavenly bonds, military assignments, postings – anything.’
‘Captain, you promisedmethe duel.’ Cemil is suddenly there, forcing himself between us. Negar acts quickly, wrenching an arm around his neck before throwing him to the ground. Fayez does not blink; does not even acknowledge him.
‘No one interferes, rukh.’ Negar digs her foot into Cemil’s back. He meets my eyes, his blazing in contempt.
I force myself to focus on the captain. ‘So you wish to duel me,’ I say, fighting a swell of hope.
‘Khamilla.’ Overseer Yabghu’s voice rises in warning. ‘This is the high of your victory speaking. Fayez has nearly mastered the martial system of iron-bone; he is a Fifth-Slash—’
Fayez’s eyes cut to him. ‘One more word and I will gut you.’ He returns his glare to me. ‘Name your stake.’
‘You are a Fifth-Slash,’ I speak slowly. ‘If I win our duel, I will take your highest-ranked military assignment scheduled this coming year.’
Fayez’s lips tilt up menacingly. ‘A high price,’ he warns. ‘My assignment is not as an auxiliary. To pay me equally in kind is through the next most valuable currency.’ His expression tightens. ‘Time. If you lose the duel, for three years you will not participate in a Marka, examination nor battle. You will rot and remain in First-Slash as my dog.’
‘What?’ I share Yabghu’s horrified expression, and the warriors surrounding us appear equally surprised, angry... and some hungry for my demise. ‘How is this a fair currency?’
‘One successful assignment with the high-ranks and you will never have to beg for another in your feeble life. That is, if you win the duel.’
‘One year,’ I plead instead. ‘The same benefits but a less ridiculous amount of time.’
‘Two and a half,’ he counters. He has trapped me. To refuse is to admit that I have nothing of value to a high-rank besides my own time. And it is true. ‘Is it not the philosophy of the Duxzam, to gamble away what one cherishes most?’
I clutch my chest, a cluster of wounds. Somehow, if I do win, I would be assigned with the high-ranks, accessing the best military intelligence on Sajamistan. Perhaps, I’ll gain enough from the assignment to defect from the army and return to my exiled clan.
Grimly, I nod. ‘When is the duel?’
