She pulled free her knife. She would hunt, killing a coreling and feasting on its magic-infused flesh. The power would ease her pain – lost in the rush, she would feel nothing but ecstasy.
She remembered the feeling of Arlen grabbing her wrist. He had pulled hard, and she had resisted him. He could still have forced her arm away if he had mustered his full strength, but even that was coming closer to her grasp. Soon, she would be as strong as he was.
A mist rose on the path in front of her. For a moment Renna tensed, thinking it was a coreling to kill. But the sun had long since set, and she had never seen a demon rise at any other time. It was Arlen.
One of his new tricks. He had not lied when he said there were more each day, and his comfort in using them, at least in front of Renna, was growing. He called this one ‘skating’ – slipping just beneath the surface and riding currents of magic, travelling from one place to another in an instant.
Renna had attempted it, but thus far dematerializing was beyond her. Whether she had not eaten enough coreflesh, or if it had not yet had enough time to change her was unclear. It might be months. Or years.
But I’ll get there, she promised herself. Sure as the sun rises.
Arlen solidified, catching Renna as she ran into him. ‘What in the Core was all that about? Promised to hold your temper.’
Renna shook her head. ‘Promised not to hit anyone. Din’t.’
Arlen sighed. ‘Fair and true if you’re playing to the letter, but you’re a grown woman, Ren. Can’t just bully everyone.’
‘Witch needed a bit of bullying, and a reminder that you ent hers,’ she glared at Arlen, ‘and she ent yours, even if you two used to slap stomachs and never saw fit to mention.’
She began moving again, picking a direction at random and striding so Arlen had to hurry to keep pace. ‘Never asked who you’ve had in the hayloft, Ren. We agreed past was past.’
Renna waved a hand at him. ‘Can’t blame you. Know I come with my trials, and Miss Prissy Perfect’s got everything a man could want. Money, magic, and loved by all. And oh, look at that! She helped kill a mind demon, too! I was you, I’d set me aside, too.’
Arlen grabbed her, turning her roughly to face him. ‘Ent setting you aside, Ren. Not now, not ever. Ay, Leesha’s got her sunny bits, but she’s got her own mess of crazy, too, and whatever she might have done, you stared her down cold.’ He laughed. ‘Never seen her intimidated like that. Thought she was going to wet herself.’
Renna smirked. ‘Was hoping she would.’
‘Heard it from her own lips,’ Arlen said. ‘Ent promised to her, Renna Tanner. Promised to you.’
Renna looked at him, wanting to believe the words, but it all seemed like demonshit. They’d danced this dance before. Arlen would talk up a storm, telling her she was the centre of his world and how he could never want another. He’d go on about how she was his sunrise and sunset.
She knew if she listened long enough, she’d be convinced by his arguments – or get so sick of hearing them she’d agree just to end the barrage.
But in the end, it was all just words.
‘Renna Bales,’ she said.
‘What?’ Arlen asked.
‘Not Tanner,’ Renna said. ‘If you’re speakin’ honest word, you’ll get a Tender and keep your promise. Tonight. Elsewise it’s just spit and wind.’
20
A Single Witness
333 AR Summer
11 Dawns Before New Moon
Arlen looked at Renna a long time. She felt as naked under that gaze as she had when the coreling prince slipped into her mind. She wondered – not for the first time – if Arlen had learned that trick as well. There was judgement in his eyes.
‘Think you’re ready for that, Ren?’ he asked quietly.
Renna straightened, steeling herself and staring right back at him. ‘Ay. Been ready a long sight.’
‘Man and wife oughtn’t have secrets,’ Arlen said.
‘Know that,’ Renna said.
Arlen put a hand to his face, rubbing his temples with thumb and forefinger. ‘Think I’m stupid, Ren? Think I can’t see you been eating demon meat? I can smell it on your breath, see it in your blood, taste it in your magic. Very night I begged you not to, you done it. And every chance you got since.’
Renna gritted her teeth, trying to quell a flare of anger and failing. He was judging her? After she had done it to save his life? Magic rushed into her, filling her with strength and multiplying the rage tenfold. It was all she could do to keep it contained. ‘Told you before, Arlen Bales, you don’t get to tell me what to do.’
No doubt Arlen saw her magic rising, saw the growing anger on her face, but he seemed unconcerned. He nodded. ‘You did. And I haven’t. Said my piece on it. You want to ignore me, that’s your business. Ent even that you kept it from me. I can’t stand in the sun and say I never kept things. People got a right to their privacy.’
‘Then what’s the problem?’ Renna demanded.
Arlen sighed. ‘Said it already. How can I marry someone thinks I’m a fool?’
With those words, the anger fled as quickly as it came, replaced with a guilt so strong Renna didn’t think she could bear it. Arlen blurred as tears filled her eyes. Her legs felt weak, and she fell to her knees.
Arlen was there in an instant, supporting her, and she leaned into him, soaking his white shirt with her tears. He held her tightly, stroking fingers through the spiky remnants of her hair.
‘There, Ren. Ent as bad as all that.’ He put a hand on her cheek, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. ‘Creator knows I ent perfect.’
‘Only wanted to keep up,’ Renna said. ‘Know you got a hard road ahead, and I promised to walk it with you. Can’t do that if you slip into the Core and I’m left up here, calling.’
Arlen pulled back enough to smile at her. ‘Your calling saved me from being sucked down there forever, Ren. Don’t haggle down your worth.’
‘Ent enough,’ Renna said. ‘You’re going there, sooner or late. Seen it in the sad look you get sometimes, staring off at a path to the Core. Ent telling you not to, but ent letting you go alone, either.’
Arlen stared at her, his expression blank, but a tear welled in his eye. ‘You’d do that for me, Ren? Go down to the Core itself?’
Renna nodded. ‘Go anywhere, Arlen Bales, long as it’s with you.’
He sobbed, and suddenly it was her holding him, and not the other way around. ‘Can’t ask you to do that, Ren. Can’t ask that of anyone. Don’t think there’s any coming back from that place.’
She took his face in her hands, making him look at her. ‘You din’t ask. But you don’t get to tell me what to do.’
She kissed him then, and for a moment, he froze. It seemed he would pull away, but then he leaned in and returned the kiss, his arms crushing her to him.
‘Love you, Arlen Bales,’ she said.
‘Love you, Renna Bales,’ he said.
The Corelings’ Graveyard was full of activity when they returned to town. More than a dozen Jongleurs milled around the sound shell tuning instruments, and the Krasian drillmaster was instructing a group of new recruits – raw wood, as the Cutters called them. General Gared, easily the biggest man Renna had ever seen, strode across the square with the Butchers at his back, shouting orders. A Cutter patrol assembled, waiting for blessing from Tender Hayes before heading out into the night.
Arlen moved towards them, and the Holy Man caught sight of them, stumbling over his prayer. He quickly regained composure and continued, but not before heads began to turn their way. Buzzing whispers picked up as they always did when Arlen was about.
Gared moved to approach, but Arlen stayed him with a hand, waiting quietly as the prayer was completed and the Tender drew wards in the air over the warriors. Under normal circumstances, the Cutters would have left immediately, but they stood rooted in place as Hayes turned to face Arlen.
‘Mr Bales, Miss Tanner,’ the Inquisitor said with a bow. His voice wa
s tight – they had not spoken directly since she and Arlen had left his dinner, giving each other a wide berth. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘Sorry to bother you, Tender,’ Arlen said. ‘I … need a favour.’
The Inquisitor lifted an eyebrow at the request, glancing at the crowd as those nearest passed the words on. The whole yard began chattering.
For a moment, the Inquisitor did not respond, and Renna worried that they had offended him too greatly. But at last he nodded. ‘Of course. Let us retire to my chambers in the Holy House …’
Arlen shook his head. ‘The altar.’ Renna took his hand at that, and Hayes did not miss the gesture. ‘Said you’d marry us. Want you to do it. Tonight. Now.’ The buzz of the crowd became a cacophony, excited whispers turning to shouts and whoops. Others hissed for quiet, hanging on every word.
‘Are you certain?’ the Inquisitor asked. ‘Marriage is something done under the sun, not rushed into in the middle of the night.’
Arlen nodded. ‘Been promised fifteen years, Tender. Time it was kept.’
‘And to spare,’ Renna said.
Hayes turned to Franq. ‘Ready the altar.’ He glanced at the growing crowd. ‘We don’t have enough space in the pews …’
‘Just us for this, Tender,’ Arlen said. ‘Don’t need a fancy ceremony. Ent some Jongleur’s show.’
There were cries of disappointment that filtered through the crowd, growing into a roar of disapproval. Gared pulled his axe and blade, banging them together with a resounding ring. ‘Shut it! Man saved this town, and he wants privacy, he’s gonna get it!’ He turned to the Cutters. ‘You heard the man! Clear the way! No one gets near the Holy House!’
Immediately the Cutters formed up, encircling them and opening a path through the crowd.
‘You’ll need a witness, at least,’ Hayes said.
Arlen turned, looking at Gared. ‘Will you stand with me, Gar?’
‘Me?’ Gared squeaked, suddenly sounding more like a pubescent boy than the giant general of the Cutters.
‘Stood by my side ’gainst a horde of demons,’ Arlen said. ‘Think you can handle this.’
‘Ay,’ Gared said. ‘Be honoured.’
‘The baron will do,’ Hayes said, nodding to Franq. ‘Have everyone else wait outside.’ The Child nodded and moved quickly to the Holy House. A stream of people left as the Inquisitor and his guests approached. They pressed close, following along as they went, but the Cutters kept them back.
‘Have you the rings?’ Tender Hayes asked Arlen.
‘Don’t need any …’ Renna began, but the words died in her throat as Arlen reached into his pocket, producing two rings – woven gold and silver, covered in tiny wards. Even at a glance, she recognized his delicate script. The rings drew on his magic, shining brightly with power.
She looked at him, and Arlen grinned like a cat. ‘Think I ent been planning this, Ren? Meant it for after new moon, we were still alive, but I finished these days ago.’
Renna felt tears welling in her eyes, and made no effort to stop them falling as Arlen slipped the smaller of the rings on her finger. Her hands shook as she took the larger one and slid it onto his. ‘You are going to get such a wedding night,’ she whispered.
The Tender coughed. ‘In the name of the Creator, here in His house, I pronounce you man and wife. Go forth and multiply in His name. You may kiss …’
Renna threw herself into Arlen’s arms, pressing her mouth against his, and if the Tender finished the sentence, it was lost in the thrumming of blood in her ears.
‘Owe you a favour,’ Arlen told the Tender when they finally broke. ‘Won’t forget.’
Hayes smiled. ‘Nor will I.’
‘Congratulations,’ Gared said, slapping Arlen on the back when he turned the baron’s way. The slap would have knocked most men across the room, but Arlen stood his ground. ‘Honoured to be yur witness. Don’t deserve it.’
‘Honour’s ours, Gared Cutter,’ Arlen said. ‘Hollow’s got good men looking after it now.’
Gared looked suddenly sad. ‘Ent been as good as I should. Even after you come to the Hollow. Made … mistakes.’
Arlen smiled, reaching a hand high to put it on the giant Cutter’s shoulder. ‘We all make mistakes, Gared. But those that can see ’em are halfway to being better men. Whatever you done, I forgive you.’
The light that came over Gared’s face was unmistakable. He straightened to his full height, towering over even the Inquisitor – a step higher on the altar – then bowed low. ‘Gonna make the other half of that trip, startin’ now.’ He glanced at Hayes. ‘Creator as my witness.’
‘Love you, Arlen Bales,’ Renna whispered. Arlen took her hand and led her back down the aisle.
Gared rushed ahead of them, pushing the great doors as if they were weightless. They slammed open with a boom, revealing hundreds of people swarming about the Holy House with a steady stream coming from every street, filling the Corelings’ Graveyard. Folk stood on balconies around the square for a better view, and children sat atop their parents’ shoulders.
Renna froze. The only time she had seen such a crowd was the night the whole of Tibbet’s Brook had gathered in Town Square to see her staked out for the demons. A thousand souls, come to watch and not lift a finger while the corelings tore her apart.
She felt her heart stop, and before she knew it she was reaching for her knife.
‘Man and wife!’ Gared roared, and the cheer that arose from the crowd was deafening, shocking Renna back to her senses. She stood stunned as hastily picked flowers began to rain on them and the Jongleurs in the sound shell struck up a reel.
Arlen bowed, offering her his arm, his voice too low for any without their enhanced hearing to catch. ‘They ent here to hurt you, Ren. Just wanna give their regards and dance.’
Renna took his arm as he led her out into the crowd. An older woman appeared, a nervous smile on her face as she curtsied. ‘Meg Cutter,’ she said. ‘My family was proud to stand with your husband at the Battle of Cutter’s Hollow. None of us would be here, not for him.’
She pressed a beautifully painted pot into Renna’s hands, adorned with a few half-wilted flowers. ‘Pot’s been in my family a hundred years. Don’t know if it’s true, but my grandda said he bought it from a Messenger said it come from before the Return. Know it ent much, but I’d love for you to have it, to bless your wedding.’
Renna froze, not knowing what to say. The woman was acting as if the gift was nothing, but it was clear in her eyes she treasured it. Such a thing was not given lightly.
‘I … Thank …’ she began at last, but the woman was swept away by the crowd as another took her place. Renna knew the woman’s face but not her name. She loved the rosebush in the woman’s yard and had once told her so in passing.
‘Sandy Tailor.’ The woman curtsied awkwardly, thrown off balance by the huge bundle of roses she held in her arms, tied together with red silk. Renna could see the cuts and scrapes where she had torn her sleeves and flesh hurriedly pulling them. She must have denuded her entire bush to make the bundle. ‘Know you like roses, and a bride should have a bouquet.’ Her face flushed redder than the flowers, and she turned to go, then looked back, pointing at the bow. ‘That’s real Krasian silk,’ she noted before vanishing into the crowd. Renna tried to add them to the pot, but they would not fit and was left holding both awkwardly.
She felt drunk as people came on. Her night senses, instincts that kept her alive when she was out among the corelings, screamed at her, expecting them to rush forward – grabbing, clawing. But folk kept bowing and offering hastily chosen gifts. The Hollowers did not have money, but again and again they came forward with things Renna knew were more precious by far.
‘Stood with your husband …’
‘… please accept …’
‘… Mairy Blower …’
‘… please accept …’
‘… husband saved my life …’
‘… my son’s life …’
/> ‘… every last one of us …’
‘… please accept …’
‘… please accept …’
‘… please accept …’
Even with her night strength, it became hard to hold all the baskets and bundles. Before long she felt like a Messenger’s pack mule, and still the well-wishers came on, hundreds in the line. Thousands.
Amazingly, it was a Krasian woman who saved her.
She appeared from the crowd, covered from head to toe in black cloth in the southern fashion, but her eyes were kind. ‘What is this?’ she said loudly. ‘A bride should not carry her own gifts on her wedding night!’ Around her, everyone froze, and the woman, her tone one of comfortable command, pointed to a few of the women who had already given her gifts. ‘Find tables to lay them on, that such precious things not touch this ground, hallowed by the blood of your people in alagai’sharak.’
The women nodded eagerly, drafting still others, and the gifts were pulled back from Renna’s hands. The Krasian woman looked at her, and from the crinkling around her eyes, Renna knew she was smiling. ‘Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Shamavah, First Wife of Abban, son of Chabin, of the line of Haman of Kaji.’ Arlen looked up sharply at that, and she met his eyes. ‘My husband was always a true friend to the Par’chin.’
Arlen looked at her a moment, then smiled and nodded. ‘It is good to see you again, First Wife of Abban. I hope your sister-wives and daughters are well.’
Shamavah bowed. ‘And to you, son of Jeph. It is my fondest wish that you and your honoured family have prospered in these years.’ She turned back to Renna. ‘If you will allow me to facilitate, it would be my great honour to assist the Jiwah Ka of the Par’chin on this sacred night.’
Renna blinked, then nodded, stuttering, ‘A-ay.’
Shamavah bowed again, producing a small writing board, paper, and a pen. When the next woman presented her gift to Renna, Shamavah recorded her name and the gift, then instructed her to lay it on the tables that the folk were putting together and covering in white cloth.