called jovially. “How good, how very good to see your face again!”
The Settler’s brother drew himself up and spat on the marbled floor. “You have won, Ali,” he said disdainfully. “Yours is the Peacock Throne. Bring out the irons and have done.”
“Irons?” Ali said.
That was the traditional punishment for the losers, when a dead Settler’s brothers fought for the throne. Only a man complete in his limbs and organs could be Commander of the Faithful; Tewfik was disqualified because he had lost an eye in battle. A red-hot iron fulfilled the same purpose.
“Irons?” Ali said again. “Oh, may Allah requite me if I should put out the eyes of one born of the same seed, of Jamal our father.”
Eunuchs brought out a stout iron framework, like a high bedstead with manacles at each corner. Akbar began to bellow and thrash; the guards held him down with remorseless strength while the plump, smooth-faced eunuchs snapped the steel cuffs around wrist and ankle.
“Shaitan will gnaw your soul in hell if you shed a brother’s blood!” Akbar yelled.
Ali stood and made a gesture. The guards saluted with fist to brow, and marched out of the great chamber.
“I? Shed your blood? Never, my brother.”
Ali stood by the iron rack, stroking his beard. He pulled a handkerchief from one sleeve of his pearl-sewn robe and made as if to wipe his brother’s face; when the other man opened his mouth to shout a curse Ali deftly stuffed the length of silk into it.
“There. It is unmannerly to interrupt the Settler. Do you not remember, brother, how you boasted to your captains during our brief, unfortunate civil strife—how you boasted to them that I should be sent into exile on an island in the Zanj Sea with only a mute crone to attend me? That a . . . how did you phrase it? A perverted bastard son of a diseased sheep like me did not deserve the delights of the hareem, and that the pearl-breasted beauties who served me would be shared among your amirs .”
He clapped his hands. A line of women filed into the throne room, the long robes of their chadors brushing the floor and the sleeves hiding their hands.
Ali turned. “Zufika, Aisha,” he said. “All of you—hide not the light of your faces.”
Obediently, they dropped the filmy black cloaks to the floor. Several of them were carrying long slim knives; two bore a charcoal brazier between them, holding the metal frame with iron tongs. Others set a stool by the iron frame. Ali sank down with a satisfied sigh.
“No, I shall not shed a drop of your blood,” he said. “But you surprise me, with this unseemly conduct. Don’t you know it is unfitting for an entire male to look on the faces of the Settler’s women?”
Zufika came forward, the knife in her hand. “Attend to it, my sweet one.”
Through the gag, Akbar began to scream.
“Sovereign Mighty Lord,” Raj said quietly.
Silence fell; even Barholm checked himself, dropping the finger he’d been wagging under Chancellor Tzetzas’ nose.
“With your permission, lord, I’ll take command in the East. Superseding the Commander of Eastern Forces and the garrison commandants.”
There were nods all around the table, even from Gharzia. Right now the high command in the east was the sort of honor you took with you to an unmarked grave.
“And I’ll take seven thousand cavalry to the border.”
“Ridiculous—”
“That’ll strip the garrisons of—”
“D’you want Ali to march right into East Residence—”
Raj raised his hand. “Sovereign Mighty Lord, the troops are on their way to East Residence as we speak. Most of the garrison of the Western Territories. Veteran fighters, the cream of our armies.”
Barholm looked at him narrow-eyed. And the soldiers most loyal to you. The thought needed no words.
“That’s forty-five hundred men, perhaps a little more. I’ll take another two thousand of the Brigaderos prisoners who’ve been reequipped and organized along Civil Government lines, and
The Settler’s brother drew himself up and spat on the marbled floor. “You have won, Ali,” he said disdainfully. “Yours is the Peacock Throne. Bring out the irons and have done.”
“Irons?” Ali said.
That was the traditional punishment for the losers, when a dead Settler’s brothers fought for the throne. Only a man complete in his limbs and organs could be Commander of the Faithful; Tewfik was disqualified because he had lost an eye in battle. A red-hot iron fulfilled the same purpose.
“Irons?” Ali said again. “Oh, may Allah requite me if I should put out the eyes of one born of the same seed, of Jamal our father.”
Eunuchs brought out a stout iron framework, like a high bedstead with manacles at each corner. Akbar began to bellow and thrash; the guards held him down with remorseless strength while the plump, smooth-faced eunuchs snapped the steel cuffs around wrist and ankle.
“Shaitan will gnaw your soul in hell if you shed a brother’s blood!” Akbar yelled.
Ali stood and made a gesture. The guards saluted with fist to brow, and marched out of the great chamber.
“I? Shed your blood? Never, my brother.”
Ali stood by the iron rack, stroking his beard. He pulled a handkerchief from one sleeve of his pearl-sewn robe and made as if to wipe his brother’s face; when the other man opened his mouth to shout a curse Ali deftly stuffed the length of silk into it.
“There. It is unmannerly to interrupt the Settler. Do you not remember, brother, how you boasted to your captains during our brief, unfortunate civil strife—how you boasted to them that I should be sent into exile on an island in the Zanj Sea with only a mute crone to attend me? That a . . . how did you phrase it? A perverted bastard son of a diseased sheep like me did not deserve the delights of the hareem, and that the pearl-breasted beauties who served me would be shared among your amirs .”
He clapped his hands. A line of women filed into the throne room, the long robes of their chadors brushing the floor and the sleeves hiding their hands.
Ali turned. “Zufika, Aisha,” he said. “All of you—hide not the light of your faces.”
Obediently, they dropped the filmy black cloaks to the floor. Several of them were carrying long slim knives; two bore a charcoal brazier between them, holding the metal frame with iron tongs. Others set a stool by the iron frame. Ali sank down with a satisfied sigh.
“No, I shall not shed a drop of your blood,” he said. “But you surprise me, with this unseemly conduct. Don’t you know it is unfitting for an entire male to look on the faces of the Settler’s women?”
Zufika came forward, the knife in her hand. “Attend to it, my sweet one.”
Through the gag, Akbar began to scream.
“Sovereign Mighty Lord,” Raj said quietly.
Silence fell; even Barholm checked himself, dropping the finger he’d been wagging under Chancellor Tzetzas’ nose.
“With your permission, lord, I’ll take command in the East. Superseding the Commander of Eastern Forces and the garrison commandants.”
There were nods all around the table, even from Gharzia. Right now the high command in the east was the sort of honor you took with you to an unmarked grave.
“And I’ll take seven thousand cavalry to the border.”
“Ridiculous—”
“That’ll strip the garrisons of—”
“D’you want Ali to march right into East Residence—”
Raj raised his hand. “Sovereign Mighty Lord, the troops are on their way to East Residence as we speak. Most of the garrison of the Western Territories. Veteran fighters, the cream of our armies.”
Barholm looked at him narrow-eyed. And the soldiers most loyal to you. The thought needed no words.
“That’s forty-five hundred men, perhaps a little more. I’ll take another two thousand of the Brigaderos prisoners who’ve been reequipped and organized along Civil Government lines, and
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