Unholy War by David Hair Page B

nodded, not opening his eyes. ‘I am ready.’
    ‘Are you? To kill men you’ve never met?’
    ‘They are invaders and infid—’ He grunted. ‘They are enemies.’ He rolled onto his side, which gave her a wonderful view of his magnificent physique. ‘You are the one who will be fighting your countrymen. How do you feel?’
    ‘They’re not my countrymen. Noromen don’t like Rondians either.’
    ‘Neighbours always make the worst enemies. It is like that everywhere.’
    ‘True enough.’ She sat up and drew her knees to her chest. ‘I just wish we could stay like this for ever.’
    He sat up too and studied her face. ‘Because we two are at peace does not mean the world is.’
    ‘I know. Gurvon is out there, and Rutt and Mara too. They deserve death many times over.’ She shifted a little uneasily, then added, ‘Cera too.’
Oh Cera, I still don’t understand why you turned on me
. ‘The Dorobon think they can turn my spiritual home into their own pig-trough. I’m not going to let them.’
    ‘You don’t need to persuade me. All my life I was raised on the evil of the Crusade,’ Kazim murmured. ‘My father was all but burned alive in it.’
    ‘As was my sister,’ Elena commented. ‘Strange coincidence.’
    Kazim raised an eyebrow, but didn’t follow up the thought. ‘My point is, I must do my part, as any man must. I will not fight alongside the Hadishah, because they are corrupt. But I must still fight, and I will do that at your side. Because I love you.’
    She smiled at him a little sadly. ‘I’m twice your age, Kaz.’
    ‘You are timeless,’ he replied. ‘You will never grow old.’
    She looked away, thinking about the lines on her brow, the crow’s feet and dark shadows about her eyes – and about the fact that swordplay was a young person’s game and some days she felt every one of her forty years. ‘I wish that were so.’
    ‘My adopted mother, Tanuva Ankesharan, used to say that a woman is only as old as the men in her life,’ Kazim told her. ‘That makes you as young as me.’
    ‘Good, because I’ve never wanted to grow old.’
    ‘You will. With me, and our seven children.’
    She pulled a face. ‘Seven?’
    ‘Or eight. Maybe more. Enough for a kalikiti team.’
    She laughed. ‘You might need to marry more than one woman if that’s your ambition.’
    ‘Fortunately, I am Amteh – this is permitted.’ He grinned wickedly. ‘You would always be my favourite wife, of course. At first, anyway.’
    ‘I should bloody think so!’ She cuffed him lightly and they kissed, then she pulled away before she was turned from more serious matters. ‘We need to decide on our first target. There is a way-station on the road to Hytel, twenty miles from here. The Dorobon caravans are coming through on the same day every second week.’
    ‘I know the one,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘There is usually only one mage and a cohort of legionaries to guard around a dozen wagons. Small enough for us to take on.’
    ‘The next one is due the second week of Febreux – Safar – and that’s next week. If we move tomorrow, we’ll have time to properly prepare.’
    Kazim looked around the arid landscape and she could almost see his blood pump just that little bit harder. He was excited, but not with the innocence of the unblooded. He knew what killing was, and the cost that exacted. But he was eager for the test.
    She was well past such emotions now. She saw only an unpleasant job that had to be done.
    Gurvon. Rutt. Mara.
    And Cera.
    Oh, Cera …

Beggars’ Court
     
    Alms-Giving in Brochena
    Queen Lilludh has instituted a new custom: she doles out leftovers each morning in the gardens of the zenana. Hundreds of women and children are fed there now, and they are all so cheery. It’s rather sweet, and of course it does give the poor dear something to do.
     
    S ARNIA DI K ESTRIA , R OYAL M ISTRESS , J AVON 743
    Brochena, Javon, on the continent of Antiopia
    Moharram (Janune) 928
    7 th month of