The Daylight War (The Demon Cycle, #3)

by Peter V. Brett

Abban cut him off with a roll of his eyes. “The blood of thousands pools at your feet, Ahmann. Are you truly about to lecture me about drinking couzi like I’m a drunken Sharum in the Maze?” Jardir frowned, but he did not protest further as Abban took a thoughtful pull, his eyes distant. The khaffit looked back at him, holding the bottle out. “Drink with me, Ahmann. Just this once. These are things best discussed with lips of cinnamon.” Jardir shook his head. “Kaji forbids—” Abban threw back his head and laughed. “He forbid it because his men were slaughtered in Rusk by a force they outnumbered five to one after spending the night before celebrating a battle that had not yet been won! It was a decree meant for uneducated sheep with weapons, not two men sharing a cup during the day at the center of their stronghold.” Jardir looked at Abban sadly. He could see in the man’s aura that he not only did not understand, he thought Jardir the fool in this exchange. “This, my friend, is why you are khaffit.” “Why?” Abban asked. “Because I do not treat every single utterance of Kaji as the direct word of Everam? You are Shar’Dama Ka now, Ahmann, and I’ve known you a long time. You are a brilliant man, but you have said and done many a stupid and naïve thing over the years.”