The Skull Throne by Peter V. Brett

heed. Perhaps he truly was deaf.
    He didn’t appear to be trying to maim or kill her, but neither was there any hint of mercy, or sign that the onslaught would end if she did not rise and take the pose. He paused after each strike, giving her the chance to rise, but Sikvah was beyond comprehension, crippled with fear.
    The blows began to accumulate. There was blood running from Sikvah’s nose and mouth, and another cut at her temple. One of her eyes was already beginning to swell. Ashia began to think Enkido truly might kill her. She glanced to Shanvah, but the other girl stood frozen, staring helplessly at the scene.
    So fixed was the eunuch on Sikvah, he did not notice as Ashia dropped her pose, sliding silently to the wall. Sacred law forbade her or any woman to touch a spear, so she selected a short, heavy baton, banded with steel. It felt good in her hand. Right.
    Years of dance told in the grace of her swift and silent approach, as she carefully kept unseen at Enkido’s back. When she was close enough she didn’t hesitate, swinging the baton hard enough to shatter the eunuch’s skull.
    Enkido seemed not to have noticed her, but at the last moment he twisted, putting his littlest finger against her wrist. Ashia barely felt the feather-touch, but her swing missed Enkido’s head by a wide margin. His calm eyes met hers, and Ashia knew then he had been waiting, baiting her to see if she would defend her cousin.
    Sikvah lay forgotten, a quivering mass of blood and bruise.
    He would have killed her, Ashia thought, just to test me. She bared her teeth, pulling back and swinging again at his head, arcing her blow in from another angle.
    It was a feint, and she spun before Enkido could react, moving to smash his kneecap.
    But the mute eunuch was unsurprised, again sending her blow out wide with only the barest touch. Again and again Ashia swung the baton at him, but Enkido blocked her effortlessly. She felt a mounting fear at what he might do when he decided the lesson was over and struck back.
    A moment later she learned, as he caught her wrist with the thumb and forefinger of his left hand, twisting. The hold was delicate, but Ashia’s arm might have been set in stone for all she could move it. Enkido’s other hand wove around her arm, a single hard finger poking her shoulder joint.
    Immediately Ashia’s arm went numb, falling loosely to her side as Enkido released it. What had he done? She did not feel her fingers lose their grip on the baton, but heard it clatter to the floor. She looked down, willing her fingers to clench, her arm to rise, but it was futile. She cursed the limb for its betrayal.
    Enkido lunged at her, and she instinctively raised her other arm to shield herself. He jabbed a finger, and that arm, too, fell to her side. She tried to back away, but he struck again. Just a tap, and her legs would no longer bear her weight. She collapsed in a heap on the floor, head rebounding off the stone like the clapper of a bell.
    With an effort she rolled onto her back, her vision spinning as she watched Enkido stalk over to her. She held her breath, determined not to cry out as the final blow came.
    But Enkido squatted at her side, reaching gently to take her face in his hands, as comforting as a mother’s touch.
    His fingers found her temples and pressed hard. The pain was beyond anything Ashia could have imagined, but she bit her lip till she tasted blood, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her scream.
    The fingers tightened. Ashia’s vision narrowed, then began to blacken at the edges. A moment later, sight vanished entirely. For a few moments, there was a swirl of color, then that, too, fell away, leaving her in darkness.
    Enkido let go the hold and rose, moving away toward her cousins.
    She knew not how long she lay there, limp, listening to their cries. But then the shrieks and whimpers fell away. Ashia wondered if she had passed out, or the others had. She strained her ears, hearing gentle