Read The Daylight War for Free Online

as
Damaji’ting
, ’ Kenevah said. ‘It has always been so, since the time of Kaji. The dice indicate you may succeed me.’
    ‘I will be
Damaji’ting
?’ Inevera asked, incredulous.
    ‘
May
, ’ Kenevah reiterated. ‘If you live long enough. The others will watch you, and judge. Some of your sisters in training may try to curry your favour, and others will seek to dominate you. You must be stronger than them.’
    ‘I—’ Inevera began.
    ‘But you must not appear
too
strong,’ Kenevah cut in, ‘or the
dama’ting
will have you quietly killed before you take your veil, and let the dice choose another.’
    Inevera felt her blood run cold.
    ‘Everything you know is about to change, girl,’ Kenevah said, ‘but I think you will find in the end that the Dama’ting Palace is not so different from the Great Bazaar.’
    Inevera cocked her head, unsure if the woman was joking or not, but Kenevah ignored her, ringing a golden bell on her desk. Qeva and Melan entered the chamber. ‘Take her to the Vault.’
    Qeva took Inevera’s arm again, half guiding, half dragging her from the couch.
    ‘Melan, you will instruct her in the ways of the Betrothed,’ Kenevah said. ‘For the next twelve Wanings, her failures will be your own.’
    Melan grimaced, but she bowed deeply. ‘Yes, Grandmother.’

    The Vault was not in any of the seven wings of the palace. It was set below, in the underpalace.
    Like almost every other great structure in the Desert Spear, the Palace of the Dama’ting had as many levels below as above. The underpalace was colder in both temperature and décor than the structure above. There was no hint of the paint, gilding, and polish of the palace proper. Away from the sun, the Undercity was no place for garish displays of luxury. No place to be too comfortable.
    But the underpalace still offered more splendour than the few adobe rooms Inevera and her family called home. The soaring ceilings, great columns, and archways gave even the bare stone grandeur, and the wards carved into their faces were works of art. Even away from the sun it was comfortably warm, with soft rugs running along the stone floors, wards stitched into the edges. If
alagai
somehow entered this most sacred of places, the Brides of Everam were secure.
    Dama’ting
patrolled the halls, occasionally passing them by. These nodded at Qeva and walked past, but Inevera could feel their eyes boring into her as they went.
    They descended a stairwell, continuing through several more passages. The air grew warmer, and moist. Carpets vanished, and the marble floor became tiled and slick with condensation. A burly
dama’ting
stood watch over a portal, staring openly at Inevera as a cat stares at a mouse. Inevera shuddered as they passed into a wide chamber with dozens of pegs along the walls. Most held a robe and a long strip of white silk. Up ahead, Inevera could hear the sound of laughter and splashing.
    ‘Take off your dress and leave it on the floor to be burned,’ Qeva said.
    Inevera quickly removed her tan dress and bido – a wide strip of cloth that kept the ever-present sand and dust of the bazaar from her nethers. Manvah wore one of black, and had taught Inevera to tie it in a quick, efficient knot.
    Melan undressed, and Inevera saw that under her robe and silk pants she, too, wore a bido, but one far more intricate, woven many times over from a strip of silk less than an inch wide. Her head was wrapped in silk as well, covering her hair, ears, and neck. Her face remained bare.
    Melan untied a small knot at her chin and began undoing her headwrap. Her hands moved with quick, practised efficiency, reversing what Inevera could see was an intensely complicated weave. As she worked, her hands twisted continually to wrap the silk neatly about them, keeping it taut.
    Inevera was shocked to see that the girl’s head was shaved bare, olive skin smooth and shiny like polished stone.
    The headwrap ended in the tight braid of silk that ran down