TGIAD 32: The reckoning

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It’s TGIAD, or Thank God It’s Amnar Day (so named by the great Toaster Ferret). I release the next chapter in the book Amnar: The Awakening, and take a moment here to write about what happens in the episode here on the blog.

I’ve found a temporary solution to the problem I’ve got with iWeb turning MP3 files into Quicktime files (that can’t be read on an iPod). So you can now download them through this blog. I’m working on getting them to work properly directly from the site.

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Amnar: The Awakening – Chapter 32

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This is it

This is the moment that really we’ve been waiting for all this time. Last week, Io watched the guard she now faces kill her beloved sister, Tay.

Te’Gara represented everything to her – love, devotion and hope, not to mention being her only family – and in one move Io has lost her. Now comes her opportunity for release, and rebirth.

Death comes first though. Io can feel herself changing, letting go of the old and inviting in her true self, even as she faces the guard. And at last she’s left with the ultimate choice, presented to her by Arandes himself.

So at last, this is Io’s moment of truth. Will she escape Duum and the Amnari for the Plains, or will she step into her destiny as the next Guardian Defender?

Sample 3: How one punch started an entire war

Time for another sample of Amnar, I feel.

We’re celebrating ten years here with samples of the books written since the end of 2003. Today, it’s time to wind back the clock and other exciting introductory clichés. This is 4289, and tensions between the Amnari and the Taija, a small tribe living within the Amnari territory of Amin Duum are running at an all-time high.

At this point, the Taija were living under the leadership of the extremely orthodox priest, Zhadasa. He had very strict views on the role of men, women and children in life and society, and the Amnari were just about the opposite of everything he believed was ‘good’. The Taija who supported him frequently held demonstrations and protests against the Amnari.

This, in turn, was causing many of the Amnari to feel angry and insulted. They had rescued the surviving Taija and given them a home, and being criticised was not something they saw as a sign of gratitude. It was this constant tension that brought about the group of Amnari known as the Scorian Group, who wanted the Taija removed from the city.

In the middle of all this, an Amnari girl called Lilatysia, known as Tys, went missing in the summer of 4289. She was nine years old and her parents’ only child. Zaisha, her mother, was a Senior Master Warrior preparing to take over as First High Warrior, which made her a perfect target for the Taija hatred of working and powerful women. Her father was Moshke, whose less senior position as a Master Warrior made him look to the Taija as though he was brow-beaten by his wife.

These are also the years before Arandes. His predecessor, Tishca, was legendary as a warrior, but not so much as the diplomat she was forced to be in this scene from Amnar: Tys.

Book One: Chapter Nine

Ashmuta 11, 4289

Tishca strode up to the highest levels of the Holy Complex, wondering what happened to her vacation. The Servants did not work through the entire month of Ashmuta, in recognition of their efforts during the rest of the year and in honour of the Harvest of the Souls, which was in many ways their own festival. She had spent the spring and summer in Nas Trinitar, the cold mountain state in the far west, and the only other city that had a Gap that required defence. The flight back into Duum took five days, but it was worth it, knowing she could rest in the heat of the city’s intense summer. This was not her idea of resting.

When she reached the back chambers of the area kept by the Sifradan, she could find only Moshke and Shafe sitting together in one of the little teaching rooms.

“Hi, what’s the latest?” she asked, striding across the floor towards them.

“Everybody else is hunting her down,” Moshke explained, looking relieved to see her. “Thanks for coming up.”

“No problem,” Tishca replied with a slight shrug. “What happened, exactly?”

“Tys ran off right after the selection this morning,” Shafe said, her face dejected. “I went back to the apartment, and I checked everywhere on the way, but she just disappeared.”

“It’s all right, we’ll find her,” Moshke said, reassuringly, smiling down at her.

Tishca took a deep breath. “It might be best for one of you to get back to the apartment as soon as possible,” she said. “I want to cover all bases, and if she finds her way home, she should find somebody she knows waiting for her.”

Moshke and Shafe exchanged looks. “I’ll go back,” Shafe said eventually. “I’m probably the least useful person to go hunting after her.”

“Are you sure, Shafe?” Moshke asked. “I really don’t mind.”

“You’re more useful to me here, Moshke,” Tishca said, before Shafe could change her mind. “If Shafe goes back to the apartment then make some use of you, Moshke. I have to work out some kind of maximum radius for her. How long has she been missing?”

“Over two hours now,” Moshke said. He turned to Shafe. “Go back to the apartment.”

Shafe nodded and he stood back with Tishca, waiting until she’d gone before they spoke again.

“All right, this sounds pretty serious,” Tishca said immediately. “She’s been gone over hours?”

Moshke nodded. “Bearing in mind how long it took Shafe to get back to the apartment and then the warning coming over to us on the other side of the city,” he explained; “she’s probably been wandering around for about that long.”

Tishca rolled her eyes. “How do two warriors, two of Amnar’s best warriors, get a sifra for a Gadasim?” she asked, shaking her head. “I just hope she’s not outside.”

Moshke frowned. “I doubt she’d get out,” he said, but his face betrayed his concern. “I mean, she’s got enough corridors and tunnels to get herself lost in without getting out.”

“That’s only one of two major issues we might have,” Tishca said, taking a deep breath. “The first is that Tys might get into the Holy Quarter, and the second is that she might get outside. If she gets outside, there might be health consequences, and if she gets into the Holy Quarter, there might be political consequences. I’m just going to keep hoping she’s just wandering around the Great West Walkway, but I’m prepared for either of those two scenarios.”

Moshke nodded. “Can I ask a question?” he said.

“Of course,” Tishca answered. “What?”

“Why is the Senior Servant of the Guardian Defender doing leading the hunt for a nine-year-old girl?” he asked, looking at her sombrely. “You’re on holiday and you wouldn’t be required to get involved even if you weren’t.”

Tishca looked at him hard. “I just have a feeling, that’s all,” she said at last. She knew very well who was currently downstairs with her master, arguing over whether or not the Taija had the right to cut off the Holy Quarter, and she had a sudden, dark feeling that if they had to search the Quarter, things might get much worse very quickly. “D’you think she might’ve run into the Holy Quarter?”

Moshke looked suitably worried. “That’s a disturbing thought,” he muttered. “The grapevine is full of rumours about the Committee meetings at the moment.”

“The grapevine is the grapevine,” Tishca answered in a hard tone. “The problem is that we might just make things worse if we don’t handle this carefully. Where’s Zaisha at the moment? Where’s everybody searching?”

“Mostly just around the outskirts of the Holy Complex,” Moshke explained. “Zaisha said she was going to go down into the Servants’ Hall and see if any of you lot had seen her.”

“I doubt it,” Tishca said, shaking her head. “Everybody’s asleep.”

“I don’t blame them,” Moshke said with a sigh. “What d’you want me to do?”

“Come with me,” she answered. “We’ll check around some of the back corridors and then head up towards the waterfall. You never know—”
She stopped abruptly as Dana and the two warriors assigned to help in the search came in through the door from the northern Holy Complex. They bowed when they saw Tishca, who waited patiently for them to finish their formal greetings.

“Have you found her?” she asked.

“I could’ve asked you the same question,” Dana replied. “We’ve been all along the service corridors, asked everybody we came across to look out for her. They’ve turned out all the store rooms, closets, even the kitchen cupboards. There’s no sign of her whatsoever.”

“We’re going to have to broaden out the search,” Tishca said, taking over management of the operation instinctively. “It’s been two hours, but she’s quite young, so I think we can assume there’s a fairly limited range to the search. However, she may well have gone north, or, and this is a more complicated possibility, got herself into the Holy Quarter.”

Dana went pale. “How likely is that?” she asked.

“You tell me,” Tishca replied. “All the corridors are still open, there’s nobody to stop her, really. She could’ve just wandered in there by mistake. It’s something we have to consider, and take very seriously indeed.”

“D’you want to search there last, then?” Dana suggested. “I mean, I doubt she’d stay long in there if … she did wander in, you know?”

“It sounds like you’ve tried pretty much everywhere else within range,” Tishca said. “And before we expand the search, we need to consider the possibility that she’s in there. I’ll handle it, though, since technically speaking I can be said to represent the Guardian Defender.”

“You know they don’t like female warriors,” Dana pointed out, looking worried.

“Moshke, you can come along with me,” Tishca said immediately, looking back at him. “They’ll probably feel safer if I have an escort.”

“What’s supposed to help me feel safer?” Moshke asked, but Tishca did not reply. She led the way out of the Holy Complex and down the tall stairwell to the northern entrance to the Holy Quarter. There were a few women sitting outside, dressed in traditional Taija clothing, sewing draped across their knees as they talked. When they saw the group approaching them, they stopped what they were doing and watched, their faces mixed with a feeling of curiosity and suspicion. Tishca was rather relieved to see that they were all female, knowing they would be more receptive to hearing about a missing child and the need to search for her in the Holy Quarter.

“Good afternoon,” she began as politely as she could. The women all stood up and bowed slightly to her. Even if she was female, as the leader of the Ishcai-Nashim, Tishca commanded some respect from the Taija. “I was wondering if you’d seen a little girl, about nine years old and so high around here? She’s gone missing from the Holy Complex and we’re looking for her.”

The women exchanged looks and then universally shook their heads. Tishca sighed inwardly, and tried again. “She has red hair,” she said; “you wouldn’t miss her.”

Again, the women shook their heads, their mouths kept tightly shut. There was not a sign of any thawing in their manner.

Resting her hand on one hip, Tishca got a rein on her temper and looked between them. “I’m afraid, because of the seriousness of the matter, I’m going to have to request that we search the Holy Quarter for her,” she said. “It won’t take long, and I assure you we will be as unobtrusive as possible.”

At last, one of the women spoke up. “We’ll have to ask the Zurasim,” she said. “Our priest will know what to do.”

Tishca tried her hardest not to express her irritation outwardly. “Of course,” she said with a mirthless smile. “You go and do that. As quickly as possible, please.”

The women nodded and then as a group disappeared into the darkness of the corridor. Tishca turned and looked at Moshke, making a glowering face for a moment as she vented her frustration silently.

“This is going to get worse before it gets better,” she muttered to him. “Zhadasa is not a pleasant man to deal with at the best of times. We can only hope he realises that denying us the right to search for a child is going to cause him a lot of difficulties at Committee this afternoon.”

“Can you tell him that?” Moshke asked.

Tishca shook her head. “I’m not supposed to know what happens in Committee,” she explained; “well, besides the official side of it. The Taija think of us as working animals for the Ishcai-Capillai. The idea that we have thoughts – and politically-oriented ones at that – would probably come as not only a shock but a great irritation. Zhadasa doesn’t like to be told what to think. At least, not by a woman.”

“I’ve never understood that,” Moshke remarked. “After all, they worship Isha as some kind of goddess, don’t they?”

“Well, yes,” Tishca admitted with a shrug. “A compliant, innocent and thoroughly virginal goddess. If they met her in person they’d probably have to re-write their entire religious dogma. That might be an interesting exercise.”

Moshke grinned and then glanced up the corridor to see his wife striding down towards them, her face stormy.

“Any progress?” she asked when she reached them. “What’s going on?”

“I’m just going to see if she might’ve wandered into the Holy Quarter by mistake,” Tishca explained. “They’ve gone to get the Zurasim Taijil Uskele for me.”

Zaisha nodded. “No luck anywhere else,” she said, sighing. “I’ve been through the Servants’ Hall and nobody’s seen her.”

“Is Pasche up yet?” Tishca asked.

“When I went through, Padya was around, but there wasn’t anybody else,” Zaisha replied. “She said he’d been around earlier but he’d disappeared. He wasn’t in his room, either.”

Tishca rolled his eyes. “Probably gone off with Intija again,” she muttered. “Never mind.” She turned, and found herself facing the Zurasim Taijil Uskele, a heavily bearded man in a black robe and cloak. She wondered how he coped in such heavy cloth when the heat was so unbearable outside.

“Good morning,” she said, and bowed to him.

“Good morning, Senior Servant Tishca,” he replied, stiffening visibly.

“I was wondering if you would be able to assist us with a problem, Zurasim,” Tishca explained as politely as she could. “Senior Master Warrior Zaisha’s daughter went missing in the Holy Complex this morning, and we would like to search the Holy Quarter to see if she’s wandered in there by mistake.”
The Zurasim frowned. “If she went missing in the Holy Complex, why can’t you search there?” he asked.

“We have searched there, sir,” Tishca said, keeping her tone level. She was aware of Zaisha, twitching impatiently beside her. “However, since she’s only nine and probably isn’t all that aware of how get around in the High City, we thought there was every possibility that she might have walked into the Holy Quarter.”

“We do not like our space to be invaded,” the Zurasim said, and gave Zaisha an unpleasant look. “This is a very sacred time for us, and it would distract the men from their prayers.”

“Zurasim, sir,” Tishca said, trying to be as gently insistent as she could without causing offence. She was aware she was now treading on thin political ice, and any political ice was difficult to find a good balance upon. “This is a little girl, we’re talking about. She’s probably lost and very scared, and it would be helpful if—”

“The matters of the Adnashi are not our concern,” the Zurasim snapped. “You should take better care of your children.”

“How dare you!” Zaisha screamed, and the Zurasim stared at her in shock. “How dare you accuse me of being a poor mother!”

“Zaisha—” Moshke began, putting his hands on her shoulders. She shook him off and glared at the Zurasim.

“Well, how could a warrior profess to be an example to a female child?” the Zurasim asked, undaunted. “What kind of mother could you be?”

“You repressed, ignorant bastard!” Zaisha snapped. “You keep women stupid because you know if they had an ounce of sense in them they’d walk out of the hovels you keep them in and find their freedom. My daughter has gone missing, you heartless godashid, and you won’t even open up the Quarter to let us search for her!”

“We do have a right to enter the Holy Quarter, sir,” Tishca said, putting her hand on Zaisha’s arm. “Zaisha, could you let me handle this, please?”

“They won’t let us in!” Zaisha replied, and even Tishca was a little stunned by the venom of her temper. “I can’t believe they could be this cruel!”

“Cruel? The mistreatment of children…” the Zurasim began, but Tishca raised a threatening finger at him.

“Don’t you start!” she snapped, and turned back to Zaisha. “This is difficult territory, Zaisha. Could you just let me handle it, please?”

Zaisha paused for a second, getting her temper back under control with some difficulty. “Yes,” she said finally.

Tishca turned her attention back to the Zurasim, who was still fuming. “Sir, I know that you don’t like to have … Amnaris in the Holy Quarter, but this is an exceptional situation,” she said. “The Ashad Amin has been informed of the situation, and I will go and see him to request his insistence that the Quarter is searched if you don’t let us in.”

“In that case, I will speak to the Ashad Amin and insist that our privacy during this period is respected,” the Zurasim replied haughtily. Behind him, a crowd of Taija were gathering, their faces full of curiosity. Most of them were men, who nodded gravely in agreement at whatever their priest said.

“The Harvest of the Souls may be a time of drunken debauchery to you, but to us it is a time of reflection and prayers that there may come a time when Servants are exclusively Taija.”

Zaisha burst into a fit of sarcastic laughter. “What, when you stop acting like a bunch of self-important pricks and work out what the meaning of service actually is?” she asked, and looked at Tishca. “This man is mentally ill. It’s frightening.”

Tishca, who couldn’t help feeling slightly insulted by the Zurasim’s words, took a deep breath. “Zaisha—” she began, but the Zurasim interjected.

“One of the major problems, as I see it, is that this woman clearly has no control of her temper at all,” he said. “I suspect that her daughter has run away from her violent nature, and if we find her, we will give her shelter and a proper upbringing.”

“You bastard!” Zaisha shrieked again before Tishca could say anything. “You have no idea how we raise our children! And how would you know how I handle my own daughter! At least she doesn’t have the example of you as a father!”

“Well, where is her father?” the Zurasim asked, worryingly ready for a verbal battle of wits and insults. “I don’t see him!”

“I’m here,” Moshke said, stepping forward. “Could you please let us into the Holy Quarter? Tys is only a girl, she won’t be any trouble whatsoever.”

“With a mother like that, I doubt it!” the Zurasim said. “The whole family seems to be a mess, as far as I’m concerned, Senior Servant,” he continued, directing his comments towards Tishca, as though he expected her to take his side.

“Zurasim—” Tishca began, but she was too late. She saw Zaisha’s fist fly out of the right hand side of her vision and strike the Zurasim square on his jaw. He didn’t even see the blow, but toppled over like a felled tree. The Taija who had gathered behind him gasped in unison and stared, wide-eyed, at the body of their most senior priest, lying prostrate on the floor.

Tishca’s jaw dropped, and for a second, she froze, with no idea what to do. She had never been trained in diplomacy before, and now she was having to defuse a potentially politically deadly situation. “Zaisha,” she said, rather vaguely; “you really, really shouldn’t have done that…”

Zaisha ignored her. “I’m going to find my daughter,” she snapped, stepped over the Zurasim and strode off into the Holy Quarter, pushing the Taija out of her way as she went. They were so terrified that most of them shrank back in fear as she passed them.

Tishca spun around to face Moshke, Dana and the other warriors. They were all looking rather stunned and confused.

“I feel like I just watched history in the making,” Moshke remarked, looking down at the prone Zurasim. He still hadn’t moved. The Taija were gathering around him, staring down and muttering amongst themselves about the best thing to be done.

“Can you go after your wife?” Tishca asked. “I don’t think anybody’s going to object.”

He nodded and hurried through the gathering crowd into the Holy Quarter. Tishca looked after him and wondered what kind of a mouthful Zaisha might give him for remaining silent while the Zurasim criticised her skills as a mother.

“In the meantime, I’m going to go up and explain the situation to Amin,” Tishca said. “Dana, could you get a couple of Watchers down here to make sure the Zurasim’s all right. You two warriors, carry on looking around the area. Don’t go into the Holy Quarter, whatever you do.”

They nodded obediently, and Tishca gave the Zurasim a final glance before she strode off up the corridor, fully aware that Moshke was probably right. They had probably just witnessed history in the making. Unfortunately, it was entirely the wrong sort.

Sample 2: The one with all the swearing

I’m nervous about this. Mostly because of all the foul language involved.

None of the other Amnar books feature language like this; although not entirely wholesome (Amnar is not technically children’s fiction, although my most vocal fans are well below the age bracket I considered Amnar suitable for), I steered clear of being outrageously profane, linguistically speaking.

Just this once, because it was relevant to what happened in the story, I let Arandes demonstrate how Servants generally speak when they’re not being recorded for posterity by me.

This section is, like yesterday’s, from Amnar: 4765, sometimes called The Expulsion. At the same time as Taani was going through all that with her family and people in Duum, far away in the Nas Ashca, the world of the Servants was about to collapse completely.

And it begins with Arandes’ outburst, detailed in today’s sample.

Swearing is an interesting conundrum. Foul language usually focuses around taboo or ‘dirty topics’ in any society, and the Amnari one is curiously lacking in taboos. Calling somebody a geid would be pretty bad – not something you would do in remotely polite company. Swearing needs to be authentic to the world, but it also needs to be meaningful to the reader. It needs to be understood as foul language.

Servants are themselves pretty foul of mouth. This scene actually presents a very serious legal problem for the Amnari – which is the subject of this thread of the book’s plot. The Laws of Due Decorum are so strict on manners before a Capillite that Arandes would face summary execution for letting rip in this way to the Capillite Dai Inaar.

Except that he does this in the Servants’ Hall. The Servants’ Halls are a very different place and abide by different laws. Capillites are not permitted to enter them, and Servants can speak their minds with true freedom. This sets up the legal problem that unfolds during this phase of the story.

So I’m posting this with a warning that if you are ever easily offended by anything remotely foul of tongue, it’s probably best not to read it. Arandes never, ever does anything by half.

Book One: Chapter Twenty-Two

Maali opened her eyes suddenly, her heart pounding. She had no idea why she felt so anxious, without explanation, why her veins were suddenly flooded with fear. Something dark and heavy settled on her chest, crawling over the inside of her ribs as though trying to scratch its way out of her body. Sitting up, she swallowed with difficulty, and looked down at her hands with some concern. They were shaking violently. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she stood up and made her way out into the dining hall, which was still echoing to the sounds of the other Servants who were still awake. Nobody seemed particularly interested in going to bed now Arandes was here, and they were all waiting for him to come back and share a very late supper – or an early breakfast – with him.

When she entered the dining room, she found the other Servants were sitting together at the table engaged in a hushed debate that had all of them so intensely interested that they had pulled their chairs around Solija’s end of the table. Solija himself seemed reluctant to join in and had pushed his chair back, and sat there presiding over the others in stern and slightly disapproving silence. When Maali entered, a few of them glanced around at her, including Cosai, who gave her a slight frown of concern. The others went back to their discussion almost immediately, although Cosai paused and watched as her friend took a seat next to her and drew it up.

“Are you all right?” Cosai asked, reaching out and squeezing her hand. “You look a little pale.”

“I just had a moment,” Maali replied. “What’s the big debate here?”

“Well, we’ve been discussing whether Arist and Dai Inaar are at it,” Cosai explained, and the others paused to allow Maali to join in. “I think most of us think they are.”

Tascha smiled humourlessly. “It’s pretty obvious,” she said coldly. “Last time we were in Nas Trinitar, she spent all her time in Dai’s room. She didn’t bother to hide it, not one bit. She goes marching about the place like she owns it.”

“What does she see in him?” Cosai asked. “To be honest, there’s really not that much to him. I’ve always found him rather boring and uptight.”

“All Capillites are boring and uptight,” Leto remarked. “That’s their job.”

“Icaan’s not that bad,” Maali pointed out. “He’s just quiet. And nobody’d call Ashad Amin uptight and boring.” She shook her head slowly. “I believe you though. I just don’t know exactly why she’s doing it.”

“Because she wants to cause trouble,” Matya suggested. “I think she’s just doing it because she can and she likes power over people. Dai’s weak; he fell for it.”

“It’s because no other woman would touch him with a barge pole,” Leto suggested with a snort of laughter. “I mean, come on, of all the Capillites, he’s got to be the most boring and uptight.”

“There’s something more to it, I’m sure,” Tascha said darkly. “Something much more sinister. I don’t trust her. She’s just spent the entire summer in Duum doing all this negotiation with the Dumite Cabinet and she’s not giving away any of it to anybody. Not even the other Caipashad.”

“I thought they were supposed to agree what they do about Duum together,” Cosai remarked, sitting back in her chair. “They don’t generally do anything about anything unless they’ve spent at least twenty years meeting up here and discussing the pros and cons. That’s why we have to do everything for them.”

“We don’t do everything for them,” Solija said softly, speaking for the first time. He looked around at them all slowly. “I’m sure if she and Dai Inaar have been sleeping together then the Capillites will find some way to resolve the situation. It’s their business, after all.”

“And what about the way she treats us?” asked Leto, looking unimpressed by Solija’s remarks. “Are they going to do something about that?”

“Inheritance might well change her a great deal,” Solija pointed out. “We might well see her improve.”

“She couldn’t really get much worse,” Maali muttered, rubbing her forehead. “But Sol, you’ve lived through the Inheritance of a Capillite before, and you know that Ialla didn’t really change between being Capillai-nisi and a Capillite. He was still as useless and book obsessed. And then we lost Lilatysia and everything went wrong.”

“I just think we should give her a fair chance,” Solija insisted gently, but the other Servants shook their heads and muttered their indignance. “We would expect the same of them.”

“But we give her chance after chance, and we put up with her behaviour, her attitude, over and over again, and she never changes,” Matya protested. “How many more chances does a person get before we turn around and say we can’t deal with it anymore?”

“Well, has this happened before?” Cosai asked. “I mean, have any Servants in the past complained about the behaviour of their Capillite?”

Solija shook his head. “I don’t believe there has been any occasion where it was necessary,” he said. “Capillites by their very nature are driven to be just and behave with proper decorum towards everybody, especially their Servants.”

“Arist doesn’t,” Matya said flatly. “She’s insulting, she’s rude, she’s arrogant and she thinks she runs the place.”

“You could describe Arandes in the same way,” Solija pointed out. “And use exactly the same words.”

“But it isn’t the same thing!” Matya protested. “Arandes doesn’t mean to hurt, he’s only having fun. Arist means to do harm, she wants to make you feel as small and as useless as she possibly can. The only reason it doesn’t affect us so much is because we’re older than her and we can take it. Arandes only messes about because it’s fun for all of us. And as far as running the place goes, well, we could do a lot worse than having him in charge. He seems like the only one who’s prepared to do something about Duum instead of behaving like the city is suddenly not part of the Empire.”

“Now you’ve opened up a whole new can of worms,” Cosai muttered, nudging Matya meaningfully. Although most of the Servants were aware that Arandes was involved in some activities in Duum that had not been approved by the Capillites and would probably constitute a breach of his Indenture, Solija wasn’t one of them and the others were hasty to ensure he didn’t find out. “Please let’s not start talking about Duum. The whole thing gives me a headache at the moment.”

“I’m sure most of the Ta Dasi still stationed there would sympathise with that sentiment,” Matya remarked. “I really hope I’m not stationed there for the winter season. Anybody know what Arandes is planning to do with us?”

“I think he’s waiting until after the Inheritance to split us up,” Maali suggested, although she wasn’t sure. The dark feeling was spreading through her chest and tightening, as though a belt had been placed around her ribs. She sighed heavily. “It doesn’t matter how much you believe in the Capillites and what they do, Sol, they’ve failed in Duum and they haven’t done anything about Arist’s behaviour. Icaan has seen the way she behaves towards and heard the way she talks to us and he’s done absolutely nothing about it so far. I know they’re great wise leaders but at the moment, I’m not seeing any of it. She’s showing up just how little they actually do these days other than sitting around talking intensely about things. They just don’t get anything done.”

“I agree,” Tascha said, nodding. “And you can bet they know about what’s been going on. All of it. But what do they do? They just huddle up and have one of their chats—”

She was interrupted by the sound of the door to their dining hall slamming against the wall so hard that it vibrated angrily on its hinges, and a moment later by Arandes’ voice ringing out across the dining room to their ears. Every single one of them turned to see him storm into the hall, waiting until he was across the threshold of the hall before he let rip, his face the very picture of blind fury as he strode towards them, and bellowing so loudly that Maali jumped. She stood up slowly and watched him approach as he let forth a stream of vicious language directed mostly at Arist.

“That insatiable little bitch!” he yelled, the words so loud that Maali was tempted to cover her ears. The dark feeling in her chest deepened; she had never seen him so furious in all her life. “That vicious, despicable, ass-jumping, Capillite-fucking, dick-withering sword-slit of a little geid shit!”

Arandes reached the top of the table to face all the other Servants, who were staring at him with wide, startled eyes.

“What’s up, Raz?” Sjaadan asked, his voice betraying a certain hesitancy, genuinely scared that he might be attacked for saying anything. “What did she do now?”

Arandes leaned on the table, his eyes burning so brightly Maali thought if he looked at her she might catch light. “That ass-itch of a Capillai-nisi is planning to have my Nashima status removed,” he hissed.

“But what for?” Sjaadan asked.

“Because apparently, my behaviour is unsuited to such an elevated position!” Arandes bellowed, so loudly that all the other Servants instinctively leaned backwards slightly in their chairs. Arandes spread his arms wide. “She, the little Capillite fucker who can’t keep her legs together for five minutes straight!” he added at full volume, his words echoing around the room.

In the tense silence that followed, as the Servants started to find words of comfort, another voice called out from the doorway.

“Arandes, that is inappropriate!” Dai Inaar exclaimed, standing on the threshold of the Servants’ Hall. Every Servant turned and stared at him, and Maali had the distinct feeling that something was about to go dreadfully wrong. There was a storm coming and every single one of them could see it.

“Arist is concerned about a few minor issues that I’m sure we can resolve…”

Arandes, still standing at the end of the table with arms spread wide, stopped and turned to look down at the Capillite slowly. Dai Inaar took a step forward, into the banqueting hall, and the room held its breath. Maali watched Arandes as he stood in silence, his chest heaving, looking like he did when he was fighting on the line and facing geidan. She could see the fury burning in his eyes.

“Oh shit,” Cosai murmured in the silence.

“You bastard,” Arandes growled, and suddenly launched himself off the podium and across the dining room with his eyes aflame and arms raised, ready to fight. “You don’t know a thing you arrogant gutless excuse for a Capillite! D’you think we don’t know what you’ve been doing every night you get a chance, letting that baby geid suck your cock for the sake of your sad, limp excuse for an ego, because you couldn’t get a decent fuck if you begged another woman! Did jacking off never occur to you? Or are you as bad at holding that with your right hand as you are a sword?”

Dai Inaar, too blown away by the speech, the oncoming fury of Arandes bearing down on him, could only let out a slight squeak of protest. The Servants, meanwhile, were suddenly activated by a mass instinct and plunged down after their First Lesser in a disorganised group, arms flailing as they tried to reach out to him to stop the inevitable attack. Solija and Sjaadan reached him first, grabbing both his arms and sliding across the floor as they pressed their whole weight against the powerful will and temper of the Nashima, Matya and Tascha hugging his waist and the others grabbing for any limb they could reach.

“You disgusting piece of geid shit!” Arandes was screaming, still struggling to get at the object of his hatred despite having Servants clinging to every limb trying to stop him. Dai Inaar could only stand, frozen to the spot, so afraid he couldn’t even move back out of Arandes’ reach. “A few minor problems? If you stopped thinking with your cock for one minute you’d see what an arrogant selfish little uschke she is and support us for a change—”

“Arandes: stop,” Maali said in a low voice, as the Servants finally managed to wrestle him onto the floor. He finally fell backwards, his head dropping onto Maali’s chest. “I think he’s got the message,” she said softly, putting her hand on his forehead. She looked up to see Dai Inaar, who was shaking violently, staring down at them in utter horror.

Solija stood up and faced the Capillite sternly. “I think you had better go, sir,” he said solemnly, his expression suggesting that it would be better for Dai Inaar to leave immediately without saying anything else. “We’ll deal with this.”

“You had better,” Dai Inaar replied, refusing to move. He was visibly trying to stop himself from shaking.

On the floor, Arandes suddenly took advantage of the other Servants’ loosened hold, and pulled himself agilely back up onto his feet. He gave Dai Inaar a single, piercing look of utter hatred and disdain, and then stalked off to his room, slamming the door out as he went so hard that both Maali and Cosai jumped visibly. They all stared after him in the eerie silence that remained, then turned and looked back at Dai Inaar.

“Tell him I’m going to see Alix about this,” Dai said, still shaking, and turned and marched out of the Servants’ Hall, while the Servants exchanged troubled glances.

“Baby Dragon’s got himself into a lot of trouble now,” Solija remarked in the silence. “Maali, go and see if he’s all right. We are going to have a lot to deal with now. We have to work out what to do next.”

Sample 1: The expulsion from the Holy Quarter

So this week I’m celebrating Amnar’s tenth birthday.

In honour of that auspicious occasion, I’d planned to post some samples from different Amnar books. However, I found myself quickly bogged down. I couldn’t find the “right” sample. I’ve already made the Prologue available on the blog and I didn’t want to post it again. I don’t particularly want to post sections from Amnar: The Awakening, especially as it’s with agents right now.

Therefore, I’m picking selections from elsewhere. This first is from the series known as 4765 (because that was the year when it took place). The Expulsion from the Holy Quarter took place before attack mentioned in the Prologue of The Awakening. The Taija, who had lived there for thousands of years, were forcibly removed from their home by the Tiomite government and resettled in the lower city.

This is seen from the perspective of Taani, Nasja’s elder sister. Nasja wasn’t yet born then (he’s 18 at the time of The Awakening).

4765 Book One: Chapter Four

10 Days to Ashmuta 2, 4765

Taani sat at the table in her family’s tiny kitchen, her hands wrapped around a small glass of water. The Holy Quarter was just waking up, the sound of praying filling the corridors with voices, and her mother was standing over the stove in the corner, brewing tea. Their home in the heart of the Taija’s Quarter, separate from the rest of the massive city of Amin Duum was peaceful and quiet. At eleven, Taani already spent most of her days balancing school work with her chores around the home. She was the eldest child in her family, something of a disgrace because she wasn’t a boy, but she had enough of an edge to her personality that she had pushed her father into allowing her to work alongside some of the Elder Women of the Quarter. She wanted to be a midwife of some kind, she thought, although whenever she expressed the idea to her parents they reminded her that the most important duty for a woman was to have children of her own.

That was all years away though now, she thought, sitting at the table with a book on Taija history, reading about how the Taija had travelled from the ancient city of Cir Nacaijil in the far Tis Nafir Mountains to settle in Duum. It explained that the Taija were meant to teach the barbarian Adnashi-Amnari, who had already settled in the city and carved out its caves, how to be civilised and understand the god Cai Illaar, but they refused. Whenever she discussed this with her father, he banged his fist on the table, shaking his head. This was how the Adnashi responded, he said: with hate and anger. They needed permits to leave the Holy Quarter, which was usually guarded at all entrances by the huge, sweaty men the city officials employed to police the city. Taani had one, which had been given to her on her tenth birthday and which she treasured, keeping it in the pocket of her frock, because it allowed her to cross the gallery at the lower end of the Holy Quarter and walk around the upper halls of the Great West Walkway.

“What are you doing?” her mother asked, glancing around at her. “I need you to take your Papa some water. They’re in the Taijis Nil today.”

“Mamma, I’m reading,” she replied, but her mother sighed at her heavily and she decided it would be best not to argue. Sliding off her chair, she rounded the table and collected the tray on which her mother was placing several ceramic mugs filled with hot water. They had no access to tea or coffee now, as all their food was rationed severely. Leaving the kitchen by the front door, she made her way along the tunnel, carrying the tray carefully in front of her, the mugs clinking as she moved. On either side, homes had been carved out of the rock: tiny, glassless windows looking out onto the indoor street below. People were on the move now that breakfast was well over, most of them men on their way to study. They had insisted that their role in the city was that of scribes and scholars, and that they shouldn’t have to work in the fields like the people from the south and lower cities. Instead, they gathered in study rooms built at almost every junction between tunnels. Lamplight shone out through the windows into the tunnels beyond as they worked on their scrolls, while the women collected their meagre ration of grain from the markets. Taani was relieved by this: the idea of having to leave school and spend all day sowing crops or reaping harvests appalled her.

Taani’s family lived on the lowest level of the Holy Quarter, not far from the entrance to the Quarter itself. She had a fair distance to walk along the main thoroughfare before she reached the huge doors of the Taijis Nil. She stopped here, and delicately balanced the tray on one arm as she reached forward to grab one of the handles and pull a door open. As she did so, the door was suddenly flung open from the other side and she was hurled backwards onto the floor. The mugs toppled out of her hand and shattered on the floor, spilling their precious contents on to the cold stone floor. Taani let out a scream of horror, then looked up from where she lay on her back to see several guards troop past her, some of them dragging men they had passed in the Taijis Nil on their way. In horror, Taani saw her father, held by his collar, being pulled along by a huge guard pass her as she lay on the ground.

Staggering to her feet, Taani forgot about the mugs and tried to reach out to her father. “Papa!” she screamed. “Papa, it’s me!”

“Get back!” another guard yelled at her, turning on her viciously and pushing her against the wall.

“But … But what’s going on?” Taani cried, her eyes filling with tears. All around her people were leaning out of windows to see the guards or pressing themselves against the walls of the tunnel to avoid being trampled or attacked. A moment later, another guard, this one looking much more civilised but no less pleasant in demeanour stepped through the door of the Taijis Nil and stood on the steps facing them. Stepping out to face him with a crowd of other Taija, Taani could see that beyond him, the Taijis Nil was filling up with guards.

“This is it, ladies and gentlemen,” the man said, giving them a smug smile, and raised his voice to speak to as many people as gathered in the narrow tunnels. “By order of the Lord Tiom and the Cabinet of Amin Duum, the Holy Quarter is to be cleared of all inhabitants. You may take only one change of clothes and you have an hour to prepare yourselves. Once you have your baggage, form lines at the southern exits to the Quarter. You will be escorted through the canyon to the lower city by guards.”

The crowd stared at him in shock. “But… You can’t do this!” somebody shouted desperately. “We’ve lived here for thousands of years! This is our home!”

The guard grinned malevolently. “We can do whatever we like,” he replied coolly. “The Guardian Defender has left the city, and has already indicated to us her intention to fully support our actions here. Your time is at an end, Taija. Get used to it.”

Taani felt her heart sink, and a black hole open in her chest. The guard at stepped back and allowed the admittance of several others, much less senior than himself. They began handing out papers to the assembled crowd, as more and more people joined them. Other guards pushed their way past and began bellowing the proclamation down each corridor and into every home. Taani grabbed one of the papers and forced her way through the crowd pressed between the walls of the tunnel, then ran all the way back to her own home.

By the time she skidded to a halt in front of the door to the kitchen, her mother was already bustling frantically around the kitchen, a small sack open on the table into which she was throwing pots, pans and any clothes she could find. Malini, Taani’s younger sister, was running up and down the stairs carrying bundles in her arms for her mother to sort. Her face was wet from crying but every time she stopped, sobbing into her clothes, her mother paused to yell at her.

“Malini! Stop it!” she snapped. “We don’t have time!” She looked up and saw Taani standing in the doorway. “Taani! Get in here… Where’s your father?”

“Guards have got him!” Taani exclaimed. “They were heading to the southern entrance I think. I’m going to find him!”

Before her mother could protest, Taani turned and ran on down the corridor. At every house she passed, families were gathering up belongings into rags and sacks. Guards moved between the homes, shouting and bellowing at everybody. They didn’t bother with the official proclamation anymore. They threw clothes and pots out into the street through the windows, ran up the stairs and grabbed children, kicking them back downstairs.

“Get out! Get out you scum!” they screamed as Taani passed them, her heart thudding against her chest. She dodged falling pots from an upstairs window, detritus clattering on the stone floors and spilling their contents out into the street. Children and babies bawled, crying out for their parents in the chaos. Once again she was flung against the wall as a guard emerged from a house with the mother and daughter held by their hair in each of his massive fists. He threw them to the ground outside their homes and then strode back in for the rest of the family, leaving them crying and trying to gather up their scattered belongings from the floor while people trampled them as they made their way to the southern exits.

Taani could not stop running, even as her breath turned to fire in her throat, until she suddenly fell out of the southern entrance and sprawled on the ground at the feet of the guards waiting there. One of them laughed, pointing at her as she scrambled back up onto her feet. Gasping, she leaned against the wall and saw her father at last, still gripped by another guard as they interrogated him. Captains and other officers had joined the private guards in the massive gallery between the Holy Quarter and the Great West Walkway.

“Is there a plot to take over the city?” one of the captains was shouting at her father, who suddenly saw his daughter standing at the entrance to the Holy Quarter, sagging against the wall.

“Go home, Taani!” he shouted. “Go home now!”

“No, Papa!” she yelled back. “I can’t!”

“Bring her over here,” the captain said, and before she could run, Taani was surrounded by guards, two of whom grabbed her by her wrists and dragged her over to the middle of the gallery. “Is this your Papa?”

“Yes,” she squealed, and managed to add. “Put him down!”

“My, my,” the guard leered. “You are a feisty one.” He grabbed her chin with one hand and she pulled away, only to have her head grabbed from behind and forced forward. She shivered at his touch. “Maybe I should hand you over to my guards for a bit of entertainment.”

“No!” her father shouted. “No! Let her alone… She doesn’t mean any harm. Please, don’t hurt her!”

The captain turned back to him. “I thought you Taija liked to beat your women into shape,” he remarked. “She looks a little keen for a Taija to me. Like she wouldn’t mind at all. We could give her a better life. A proper life.”

“You don’t understand!” her father said breathlessly, the whites of his eyes showing as he stared into the captain’s face. “She’s only eleven!”

“But you marry off your daughters not much older than that!” the captain protested with a laugh, reaching out a hand to Taani’s chest. “She’s enough of a woman for my guards.”

Taani let out a violent scream and pulled hard against both the guards holding her down. The skin on her wrists burned and began to tear but she ignored the pain as she dropped to her knees and tried to wriggle free of their iron grip.

“She is feisty,” the captain remarked, arching one eyebrow.

“Taani!” Her father’s voice filtered through her screaming, spinning head. “Stop struggling! You’ll only make it worse!” He turned back to the captain. “Please… If there’s a plot I don’t know anything about it! We’re just scribes… We couldn’t take over Duum… Please…”

The captain laughed. “I’ve heard all about your Taija prophecies,” he said. “I’ve heard all about the plan to make the whole of the city turn to your backwards ways.” He nodded to the two guards holding him, and they threw him to the ground. Taani looked up and saw the captain kick her father violently in the chest, throwing him onto his back. She let out a pained cry and burst into tears, pressing her forehead into the floor in a full bow.

“Please!” she cried. “I’ll do anything… Just let us go…”

She felt the captain grab her by the top of her dress and the guards let her go as he pulled her back up onto her feet. “That’s something I always like to hear from a girl,” he hissed at her, pressing his face close to hers. She squealed and tried to pull away, flailing her arms as he pushed her backwards and let her fall onto her back on the floor.

“Go on, get lost,” he said, suddenly dismissive. Through her tears, Taani saw him wave his hand and then walk away. One of the guards kicked her father as he went, spitting in his face. Taani looked around and wondered why he had suddenly lost interest in her, then she saw the guard who had made the first proclamation had appeared in the gallery. It was the Commander of the West City Wall. Before she could do anything, she felt her father pull her up onto her feet.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get home.”

She wanted to protest, to fight. “But we can’t let them do this!” she exclaimed. “This is our home.”

Her father did not reply but pulled her into the Holy Quarter again, dragging her home. “We don’t have any choice, Taani,” he replied. “They’ll kill us if we don’t obey.”

Within the walls of the Holy Quarter, people were beginning to line up, clutching their bags in their hands, their heads bowed and their shoulders hunched for fear that the guards would attack them. The guards themselves paced up and down the line, occasionally stopping to slap people who stepped out of line. Some of them grabbed people’s bags and spilled the contents on the floor, bellowing at the owners to pick them up. Once they were on the floor they were kicked or beaten. They passed one doorway and saw a body lying there in a pool of blood. Taani let out a scream of horror, but her father stuffed his hand into her mouth and pulled her on.

Once they reached their own house, he threw her into the kitchen, where Malini and her mother were standing by the kitchen table. “Come on,” he said. “Have we got everything ready?”

“Have you spoken to Laphan?” his wife asked, and he shook his head dumbly, grabbing one of the bags in silence. “Can’t he do something?”

“Nobody can do anything!” he snapped at her so loudly that both Malini and Taani cringed. “Where are the boys?” he asked, looking around for his two sons.

“They’re with Laphan,” she replied. “I told them to go and find him.”

“Well, they’ll have to stay with him for the moment,” he said with a shrug. “There’s nothing we can do. We have to get outside.” He turned to his two daughters. “Out! Now!”

Taani hurried around the table and put her arm around Malini’s shoulders, tugging her out into the corridor. Each carrying a sack filled with a few clothes and a pot, they hurried down the tunnel to the end of the line. As they passed the body in the street, Malini burst into tears.

“Why are they doing this to us, Taani?” she asked desperately, clinging to her sister’s dress.

“I don’t know,” Taani replied honestly. “I think they hate us.”

She turned around to see her parents were right behind her, her father’s arm guiding her mother in front of him. When she looked around her, trying to pick out people she knew, all she could see were terrified faces, and the guards pacing up and down the line with their huge swords drawn.

“Everybody get in line!” they yelled at them as they passed, Taani and Malini cringing into each other at the force of their ire. There was a pause, more and more people coming outside into the street, all holding their possessions in their arms, many with tears streaming down their faces. “Now, you scum! Move!”

The line began to move, trudging along past their former homes, treading over the detritus they had had to leave behind. Nobody spoke a word as they passed the guards, who stood and watched them as they began to walk. Taani peered down the long line, waiting for their moment to begin moving. She looked back at her mother, who had dissolved into tears, and beyond her to the other families on their street. Shock and horror mingled in their faces as they stood, looking around at their home for the last time.

“It’ll be all right,” her father murmured to her mother. “The Guardian Defender will help us. Everything will be all right.”

“Where are they sending us?” Malini asked in a whisper. “Where do we have to go?”

“I don’t know,” Taani replied, shaking her head. The man in front of her began to walk, and she fell into pace behind him. Their progress was slow and miserable, a humiliated trudge as they made their way out of the long corridor and out into the gallery beyond. People from the High City had gathered along the route from the Great West Walkway, and looked on with satisfied, sometimes angry faces.

“About bloody time!” she heard somebody shout.

“Get out of our city!” somebody else yelled.

“How can they hate us this much?” Malini asked Taani in a whisper as they walked arm in arm. “What did we do?”

“I don’t know, Mal, I don’t know,” Taani replied, shaking her head. She looked up and saw that the end of the gallery was close. Outside, the blistering heat of High Summer was almost unbearable. Above their heads, the sun was crawling towards its zenith, and on the ground below, the Dumites braved the heat to gather by the side of the road to watch as the Taija were evacuated from the Holy Quarter. Taani and Malini kept their heads down as they emerged into the brutal sunlight, trying not to look at any of the people they passed.

Guards on horseback paced up and down the route, keeping the line in file and in the middle of the road. There were more shouts and yells from the crowd gathering to watch.

“Lazy bastards!” somebody shouted. “Don’t you know how to do a decent day’s work?!”

Taani bit her lip, wishing she had the strength to respond. The rough gravel road was digging into the soles of her feet; looking down, she could see blood gathering between her toes as she walked. She tried to walk on tiptoes, but it only made the pain worse. Tears dripped down her cheeks and she felt her throat drying out from thirst.

A force hit her from behind and she let out a cry as something stung her neck. A stone dropped at her feet. Somebody in the crowd laughed and jeered as she turned to see where it had come from. She glanced at her father, but he silently urged her onwards, so she turned and kept on walking, Malini at her side crying from the pain in her bare feet. Looking up, she saw somebody jump out of the crowd and one of the Taija men falling as he was grabbed. The line came to an awkward halt, voices exclaiming as people fell into each other. Two guards on horseback rode past, shouting to the crowd.

“Stay back! Stay back!”

Taani peered around them and between the horses’ moving legs she could see the Taija man being beaten by the Dumite, the guards stepping around him and laughing. The crowd let up a whoop of applause and shouting, their grinning faces swimming before Taani as she stared at the people all around her. The heat was oppressive, there seemed to be no air.

“Get moving!” a guard bellowed close to her as more horse guards trotted past. “Keep moving!” They trudged on as the guards finally pulled the Dumite away and settled the crowd. On they went, passing the body on the ground. The man’s wife crouched beside him, crying onto his back, her wails filling the air even above the jeering of the audience. One of the guards grabbed her by the hair, and Taani found herself unable to tear her eyes away, even as she kept on walking, glancing back over her shoulder. The woman was on her feet, screaming as the guard pulled her away and into the crowd.

“I can’t do this!” Malini cried, dropping to her knees. Taani grabbed her by the shoulders, looking around her to see where the guards were, and whether they would attack.

“We have to keep moving!” Taani hissed at her. “D’you want to die today?”

“I don’t care!” Malini cried, raising her head to the sun. “I’m going to burn alive!”

The crowd nearby had noticed and were starting to laugh. Taani ignored them, wrapping her arms around Malini’s chest and pulling her up onto her feet again. “You have to keep walking,” she cried, pulling her along with her. They had crossed the river and were on the eastern side of the shore now. People seemed to be pouring out of the city to watch the event, clapping and cheering. Taani stared up at the walls, and closed her eyes, praying desperately to the Cai Illaar that they would make it alive.

It felt like they walked for a lifetime through the dry heat, the dust filling their mouths, stepping over the bodies of the elderly as they fell. Taani remembered that she’d always imagined somehow they’d be saved, that the Dumites would never stand for this treatment of people in their midst. Yet here they were, clapping at the torment of the Taija. Stones whistled past her face, but she kept her head down, walking arm in arm with Malini and shielding her younger sister’s face with her hands as they walked. Her head swam, her hands shook; she stared down at the ground spattered with the blood from bare feet cut by the same stones that cut her own.

Suddenly, they were being drawn to a halt. The horse guards cantered up and down the line, yelling that they were at the boundary of the lower city. For the first time, Taani raised her head and looked around her. She didn’t recognise this place. The canyon walls on either side were just as high as in the High City, but there was something subtly different about this place. Up a short, steep slope to their left, the East City Wall rose, a single wide open tunnel mouth yawning before them. Guards stood at the entrance, watching as the first Taija made their way through and into the darkness. A guard captain rode past them, yelling.

“Welcome to your new home, Taija!” he bellowed. “Welcome to your settlement! Built just for you! Welcome home!”