The Daylight War

  Rojer was stunned a moment, then laughed out loud.

  ‘Do you trust this Painted Man?’ Amanvah said. ‘Do you know what happened between him and my father?’

  ‘Yes, I trust him, but no,’ Rojer shook his head, ‘I don’t know what happened. I will speak with him tonight. Maybe I’ll learn something.’

  ‘Will you share what he tells you with us?’ Amanvah asked.

  Rojer looked at her a long time. ‘If he asks me to keep his counsel private, I will.’ He frowned, then shrugged. ‘Unless I decide I shouldn’t.’ He smiled at her. ‘Gotta be free, don’t I?’

  19

  Spit and Wind

  333 AR Summer

  11 Dawns Before New Moon

  Leesha sat in Bruna’s favourite rocker, wrapped in the old woman’s shawl as she worked her needlepoint, trying to ignore the blinding pain behind her eye. Darsy had taken care of the cottage in her absence, but the garden showed the woman still had a brown thumb, and she was hopeless at keeping things in their proper place. It would be days before the place was restored to Leesha’s satisfaction, everything just so.

  Even so, simply being back in her mentor’s chair and shawl was an enormous comfort. Many times in recent weeks she had doubted she might ever see home again. Even now, it seemed almost surreal.

  But why shouldn’t it? She was home, but in countless ways things would never be the same. There was a Royal in the Hollow now, determined to throw out their old ways, and much of Leesha’s power in the process. Could Leesha stop him? Should she?

  There were Krasians building a tent city in her backyard, on land Bruna had entrusted to her. Would they help bring about the peace Leesha dreamed of, or be a cancer in the centre of the Hollow, as she saw in her nightmares?

  Arlen, whom she had thought would always keep the Hollow safe, had left them to fend for themselves, and come back a changed man. It remained to be seen if this was for better or worse.

  And there’s a baby in my belly.

  Even if the chemics hadn’t confirmed it, every day made her more and more certain of the life growing within her. Ahmann Jardir’s child. It had to be, for she had lain with no other – but that, too, seemed surreal. Arlen had feared putting a demon child in her, and she told him she did not care. Now the demon of the desert had planted a child in her, and she told herself the same, but was it true? The child, she would love and cherish, but how many lives would be lost when Ahmann came forward to claim it? She could not hide her state forever. Night, the dama’ting might already have seen it in their foretellings.

  She stroked her belly, feeling a tear begin a slow drift down her nose. Please be a girl.

  The thought filled her with shame. Would she love a boy any less? Of course not. But Ahmann would not likely bring an army north for a daughter.

  Again, she thought of her mother’s words. Find a man and bed him quick. Elona certainly knew how to do that.

  But while her mother was vile, she was often right. Elona saw the world through the lens of her own desires, and understood the desires of others in a way logical Leesha never could. Was what Leesha had planned to do with Gared – bedding him and convincing all that her child was his – any less vile than Elona having her way with the son of her old lover behind her husband’s back?

  Night, Leesha thought. I think my plan was worse.

  The worst of it was, she was still considering it. Not with Gared, of course, but surely there were other candidates – no shortage of brave, strong men in the Hollow. Even Yon Gray was increasingly young and handsome, and fifteen years a widower. He had pinched her bottom enough times to let her know he was interested, but it had been harmless at the time – the hopeless fancies of a dirty old man. Now …

  She shuddered at the thought, remembering his toothless grin. No, not Yon. But there were others. How many lives could be saved if her child’s heritage was kept secret?

  Of course, Ahmann might as soon march north to kill the man who had laid hands on his intended. Night, Kaval would likely do it for him. It was a terrifying thought, but not easily dismissed. Ahmann might truly believe he was doing what was needed to save the world, but he was ruthless in pursuit of that goal, and he had decided Leesha – or at least, what was between her legs – was his gateway to the North. He would murder anyone who tried to touch her.

  Just like he tried to murder Arlen. She didn’t want to believe it, wanted to heap it with Arlen’s dissembling about why he did not want her, but both would-be Deliverers were honest to a fault. If he said it, she believed him. But as with Ahmann’s dancing around the subject of the Par’chin, so, too, were Arlen’s comments cryptic. It was time to make him come clean.

  Night, what will he think when he sees my belly swell?

  In the distance she heard music, heralding Rojer’s approach. They had agreed to speak privately before Arlen arrived, but Leesha hadn’t realized it was so late. She looked to the window and saw it was near twilight, her needlepoint lying forgotten on her lap. The sky was darkening earlier and earlier each day. Solstice was well past, and the light grew shorter as darkness drew strength. She shuddered at the thought.

  But as the music drew nearer, it drove away Leesha’s fears and worries the same way it did demons. She put a kettle on the fire and left the door open for him, knowing Wonda was patrolling the yard, keeping other visitors safely at bay.

  Rojer entered soon after, holding his fiddle and bow in one hand. Leesha’s eyes flicked to the base, but the warded chinrest was absent.

  ‘Left it back at the inn,’ Rojer said. He pointed with his bow at Bruna’s ancient shawl about Leesha’s shoulders. ‘Couldn’t wait to wrap that old rag around you, could you?’

  Leesha fingered the old knitted yarn, mended countless times over the years by the woman’s skilled fingers. There were greybeards in the Hollow who said she had worn it when they were lads, half a century and more ago. Leesha never washed it, and it still smelled of Bruna, taking her back to a time when this cottage was the safest place in the world. ‘You have your talismans, Rojer, and I have mine.’

  Rojer threw his motley Cloak of Unsight, warded by Leesha herself, over a chair back, completely disregarding the cloak hooks by the door. He slung his bag of marvels atop it and plopped into the chair, putting his feet on the table, fiddle tucked under his chin. ‘Fair and true.’

  Leesha gave his chair a kick as she went to fetch the teacups and biscuits, knocking his feet down. ‘What did you have to tell your wives to let you come unescorted?’

  ‘Easier than you’d think,’ Rojer said. ‘Got a pat on the head and some nonsense about dice, then she sent me on my way.’

  ‘Nothing about those dice is easy,’ Leesha said, bringing the tea.

  ‘Honest word,’ Rojer nodded. ‘But their power seems real enough.’

  Leesha fought the urge to spit. ‘A crutch to educate their guesses a bit, but if they were as powerful as the dama’ting would have us think, the Krasians would already have every woman in the North in a veil and every man in a spearwall.’

  ‘Good crutch,’ Rojer said, taking a sip of tea. His face screwed up. ‘You always skimp on the sugar.’ He took a flask out of his pocket and poured a bit of caramel-coloured liquid into the cup. Leesha frowned, but he simply smiled, raising the cup to her before taking a sip. ‘Fixed. But we can talk bitter tea and demon dice later. Time is short to discuss the crazy girl.’

  Leesha didn’t have to ask whom he meant. An image of Renna Tanner flashed in her mind, the young woman lifting Enkido over her head. Leesha had got a good look at her then. Under all the blackstem wards and snarls was a pretty round face, and a body that put even Leesha’s to shame – rippling with muscle while lacking nothing of a woman’s curve.

  Is that what he wanted? she wondered. A woman who can strangle a demon with her bare hands?

  If so, it wasn’t Renna’s fault. It wasn’t fair to blame her. ‘We don’t know that she’s any more crazy than he is, Rojer.’

  Rojer laughe
d. ‘Hate to be the Messenger, Leesha, but Arlen is crazy as demonshit. I owe him my life and I won’t forget that, but the man is always turning left when sane folk go right.’

  ‘That’s why he’s powerful,’ Leesha said. ‘And the same could be said for you.’

  Rojer shrugged. ‘Never met a sane Jongleur, either.’ He drank again. ‘They say he’s promised her. Think he means it?’

  ‘That isn’t any of our business, Rojer,’ Leesha said.

  ‘Demonshit,’ Rojer said. ‘It’s the whole corespawned world’s business – yours most of all.’

  ‘How is that?’ Leesha demanded. ‘We were stuck together for all of five minutes, a year ago, and haven’t spoken of it since.’

  ‘Quick shooter, eh?’ Rojer asked. ‘You never hear that in the sagas.’

  ‘We were … interrupted,’ Leesha said, remembering the wood demon that had pulled them from their embrace. She had never hated a coreling as much as she had in that moment. ‘It still doesn’t make where he’s put it since any of my business.’

  ‘Did you know they’re staying at Smitt’s?’ Rojer asked. ‘Right down the corespawned hall. I’ll have to hear it every night. Smitt’s daughter Melly says they make the walls shake after they’ve been out hunting demons.’

  Leesha’s teacup began to shake, she gripped it so hard. Rojer pointed to it with the bow of his fiddle. ‘That right there? That’s why it’s your business.’

  ‘Not far now,’ Arlen said. They had gone perhaps a mile from the edge of the greatward of Cutter’s Hollow to reach the Herb Gatherer’s cottage. There was a warded road, but Arlen led them on a more direct path through the trees. At one point, Renna noticed a familiar spot.

  ‘Awfully close to that old hideout of yours.’

  ‘Leesha needed mindin’,’ Arlen said. ‘Smart girl, but it gets her in trouble sometimes.’

  The memory of Leesha Paper in the count’s throne room flashed into Renna’s mind as it had been doing for hours. The woman had been bad enough imagined – brave and smart and rich, practically worshipped by the Hollowers – but of course Arlen had never mentioned she was also pretty as a sunrise, with that soft, helpless look men loved. ‘You stayed close so the Painted Man could swoop in and save her like the hero in an ale story?’

  Arlen stopped walking and sighed. Then he turned and met her eyes. ‘Make you a deal, Ren. You tell me every last detail of how you shined on Cobie Fisher, and I’ll tell you every bit of how I shined on Leesha Paper.’

  Renna felt her anger rise, and saw the ambient magic rush to her, feeding on the emotion and amplifying it. Strong emotions were visible in the aura of magic that surrounded people at night. Her rage was a crackling glow that must have been unmistakable to Arlen, but he only looked at her calmly. He didn’t back down, but neither did he offer further offence, forcing her to simmer.

  He was right. She had done things – felt things – with Cobie Fisher that had nothing to do with Arlen, and he didn’t need to know. Wasn’t his business.

  But how then could she not grant him the same? He’d left Leesha behind in the Hollow for months to be with Renna, and given her his word in promise. What did it matter what he had felt, or what they’d done?

  But it did. ‘Cobie Fisher’s dead,’ she said. ‘Leesha Paper’s inviting us to tea.’

  Arlen sighed. ‘What do you want me to do about that, Ren?’

  She breathed deeply, in the rhythm Arlen had taught her, embracing the anger as she did pain. Awash in the feeling, she stepped back suddenly and let it go. Her magic cooled.

  ‘Wern’t fair of me,’ she said at last. ‘This ent easy.’

  Arlen laughed. ‘Honest word. Ent no treat for me, either, Ren. Just … don’t hit anybody doesn’t hit you first, all right?’

  Renna chuckled. ‘Ay, I can give you that. No promises about anything else.’

  ‘Good enough,’ Arlen said as they joined another road, this one made up of large squares of fresh-poured crete. Powerful wards had been inscribed in the stone, forbidding access to any corespawn. They glowed softly, drawing the ambient magic venting from the Core.

  The wards became more intricate as they drew closer to their destination. The road ended at the entrance to a massive garden, larger than Harl’s entire field, but it wasn’t made up of any edible crops Renna knew. Weeds and herbs only. A Gatherer’s garden.

  A dirt path led through the garden, with plants growing in patches throughout the area as it curved this way and that. Painted wardstones circled each patch, warming some plants and cooling others, drawing moisture from the air to nourish roots.

  ‘Fancy,’ Renna grunted, knowing it was far more than that. There were wardnets too complex for her to understand. Even as she watched the magic ebb and flow, she could only guess at their effects. She hadn’t even been formally introduced to Leesha Paper, yet already Renna didn’t like her. She was like a sorceress from a Jongleur’s tale.

  They came out of the garden into a wide yard with a small cottage at its centre. A plain and unassuming place amid all the splendour and beauty. For some reason, this made Renna dislike Leesha Paper all the more.

  She shivered though the night was warm, drawing her cloak closer, hating that it had been a gift from her.

  There was a dizzying blur as a woman stepped out of the shadows, drawing back her own Cloak of Unsight. She held a nocked bow pointed down, and looked different in wardsight, awash with glowing magic, but Renna recognized her. Wonda Cutter, another of Arlen’s apprentices, looking impressive in her new wooden armour.

  The young woman loomed over them, taller than any woman had a right to be and twice as wide. She smiled, and the magic around her turned warm and inviting as she bowed deeply. ‘Deliverer.’

  ‘Told you more’n once I ent the Deliverer, Wonda,’ Arlen said, but the scorn that usually came to his tone at the subject was absent. He liked this young woman. ‘Call me Arlen.’

  Wonda shook her head, eyes down. ‘Don’t think I can do that, sir.’

  ‘Mr Bales?’ Arlen suggested.

  Wonda brightened. ‘Ay, reckon that would be all right.’ She turned to Renna, bowing again. ‘Welcome to the cottage, Miss Tanner. Honoured to meet you. Saw what you did to Enkido in the throne room, and I seen him fight before. Hope to be half as good as you one day.’

  There’s a price, Renna thought, but she nodded, looking to Arlen. ‘Had a good teacher.’

  Wonda smiled, looking at Arlen with near worship in her eyes. ‘Ay.’ She glanced back at the cottage. ‘Mistress Leesha’s in there with Rojer. You don’t mind waitin’ a moment, I’ll announce you.’

  ‘Like her,’ Renna said as the young woman moved off.

  Arlen nodded. ‘I had a hundred Wonda Cutters at my back, I’d storm the Core itself.’

  Wonda appeared at the door an hour after dark. ‘They’re here, Mistress Leesha.’

  ‘Thank you, Wonda,’ Leesha said. ‘Be a dear and send them in, then walk the yard and make sure we’re left be.’

  Wonda nodded. ‘Ay, mistress.’ A moment later Arlen appeared, looking more relaxed than she had ever seen him. Renna Tanner came next, her eyes roaming with predatory suspicion. She caught Leesha’s eyes, and Leesha realized she was staring impolitely.

  Elona’s voice rang in her head. Say something, idiot girl.

  Leesha shook herself and went over to her. ‘Welcome to my cottage. Renna, I believe?’ Her eyes flicked to Arlen. ‘We were never formally introduced. I’m Leesha Paper.’ She reached to take the young woman’s cloak, only to gasp at the sight. It was the Cloak of Unsight she had made for Arlen.

  He gave it to her? There was a flare of anger as she remembered how hard she had worked on that cloak, putting in more effort than on her own and Rojer’s combined. She had wanted so badly to impress him, to show the power of her warding, but Arlen had barely glanced at it as she put it on his shoulders, and hadn’t worn it since.

  Was that your promise gift? she wondered bitterly. Suddenly their relationship
seemed like it very much was her business.

  ‘Know who you are,’ Renna said.

  Something about the look she gave made Leesha want to grab Bruna’s stick and thump her, but she kept her smile pleasant. ‘Tea?’

  ‘Please,’ Arlen said, putting an arm around Renna and steering the women apart.

  Rojer rolled from his chair into a handspring, somersaulting into a low leg. ‘Rojer Halfgrip, at your service.’

  Renna laughed and clapped her hands, suddenly looking like an innocent girl. ‘Renna Tanner,’ she said as he kissed her hand. ‘Arlen told me all about you.’

  ‘Don’t believe a word of it,’ Rojer advised with a wink. Renna smiled at him, and Leesha wanted to scream, but she kept a sunny smile on her face.

  ‘Come help with the tea, Rojer,’ she said. He complied, and as they stood at the counter amid a clatter of cups and saucers, she whispered, ‘Night, whose side are you on?’

  ‘Oh, there are sides now?’ Rojer asked sweetly. ‘I thought it was none of our business.’ Leesha kicked at him, but he danced away, not spilling a drop of the tea he carried to Renna and Arlen in the sitting room. Leesha brought their cups from the kitchen table and saw Arlen and Renna together on her couch and Rojer on the closest seat. She wondered if the men were purposely trying to keep her and Renna as far as possible from each other.

  ‘Soooo,’ Rojer said with an exaggerated stretch. ‘Ah. How have you been?’

  ‘Busy,’ Arlen said. ‘Hollow’s expanding faster every day, swallowing hamlets whole even as folk flock here from all the Free Cities. Work’s started on the pattern of greatwards we plotted over the winter, and already some of them are activating.’

  Arlen’s eyes twinkled at her. ‘It’s working, Leesha. Greatwards keep growing, some day fighting demons will be irrelevant. Nothing to fight, they’re all trapped in the Core. This rate, “Count” Thamos will be calling himself duke before long, and Rhinebeck won’t be able to say much about it.’