The Desert Spear by Peter V. Brett

drive the point home, he lifted another similarly clean piece and smashed that on the ground as well.
    Jardir eyed the broken shards and sighed. “Send nothing to my family,” he said. “I want no profit to come to the line of Jardir from this…low deed. I would rather see my sisters chew hard grain than eat tainted meat.”
    Abban looked at him with incredulity, but at last he simply shrugged. “As you wish, my friend. But if your mind ever changes…”
    “If that day comes, and you are my true friend, you will refuse me,” Jardir said. “And if I ever catch you at something like this again, I will bring you before the
dama
myself.”
    Abban looked at him a moment longer, and nodded.

    It was nighttime on the Krasian wall, and all about him Jardir could feel the thrum of battle. It made him proud that he would one day die as a Kaji warrior in the Maze.
    “
Alagai
down!” Watcher Aday called. “Northeast quad! Second layer!”
    Jardir nodded, turning to the other boys. “Jurim, inform the Majah in layer three that glory is near. Shanjat, let the Anjha know the Majah will be moving away from their position.”
    “I can go,” Abban volunteered. Jardir glanced at him doubtfully. He knew it dishonored his friend to hold him back, but Abban’s limp had not subsided in the weeks since they had returned from Baha, and
alagai’sharak
was no game.
    “Stay with me for now,” he said. The other boys smirked and ran off.
    Drillmaster Qeran noticed the exchange, and his lip curled in disgust as he looked at Abban. “Make yourself useful, boy, and untangle the nets.”
    Jardir pretended not to notice Abban’s limp as he complied. He returned to Qeran’s side.
    “You can’t spare him forever,” the drillmaster said quietly, raising his far-seeing glass to search the skies. “Better he die a man in the Maze than return from the walls in shame.”
    Jardir wondered at the words. What was the true path? If he sent Abban, there was a risk he would fail in his duty, putting fighting men at risk. But if he did not, then Qeran would eventually declare the boy
khaffit—
a fate far worse than death. Abban’s spirit would sit outside the gates of Heaven, never knowing Everam’s embrace as he waited, perhaps millennia, for reincarnation.
    Ever since Qeran had made him
Nie Ka,
responsibility had weighed upon Jardir heavily. He wondered if Hasik, who had once held the same honor, had felt the same pressure. It was doubtful. Hasik would have killed Abban or driven him out of the pack long since.
    He sighed, resolving to send Abban on the next run. “Better dead than
khaffit,
” he murmured, the words bitter on his tongue.
    “Ware!” Qeran cried as a wind demon dove at them. He and Jardir got down in time, but Aday was not as quick. His head thumped along the wall toward Jardir as his body fell into the Maze. Abban screamed.
    “It’s banking for another pass!” Qeran warned.
    “Abban! Net!” Jardir called.
    Abban was quick to comply, favoring his good leg as he dragged the heavily weighted net to Qeran. He had folded it properly for throwing, Jardir noted. That was something, at least.
    Qeran snatched the net, never taking his eyes from the returning wind demon. Jardir saw with his warrior’s eye, and knew the drillmaster was calculating its speed and trajectory. He was taut as a bowstring, and Jardir knew he would not miss.
    As the
alagai
came in range, Qeran uncoiled like a cobra and threw with a smooth snap. But the net opened too soon, and Jardir immediately saw why: Abban had accidentally tangled his foot in one of the weight ropes. He was thrown from his feet by the force of Qeran’s throw.
    The wind demon pulled up short of the opening net, buffeting both the net and Qeran with its wings. The
alagai
dropped from sight, and the drillmaster went down, hopelessly tangled in the net.
    “Nie take you, boy!” Qeran cried, kicking out from the tangle to knock Abban’s legs from under him. With a shriek, Abban fell