The Daylight War

  Renna turned, smiling widely for Shamavah. ‘Appreciate the help. Coin on delivery will be fine.’

  Shamavah nodded as if she had expected no other answer. ‘May I hold the piece?’ Renna handed it to her and she examined it closely, putting a lens in her eye as she held the gems to the light.

  ‘Now she’ll find flaws and try to haggle you down,’ Arlen murmured. ‘Whatever she says, tell her she’s crazy and threaten to sell to Smitt. She’ll double her offer. Ask for five times that.’

  ‘Honest word?’ Renna breathed through her smile. ‘Don’t want to insult her.’

  ‘You won’t,’ Arlen murmured. ‘Krasians don’t respect a person who can’t haggle. Settle for half as much.’

  Renna grunted and waited for Shamavah to finish her inspection.

  ‘More pretty than anything.’ Abban’s wife put just the right hint of disappointment in her tone. ‘The diamonds are clouded and there is a flaw along the edge of the emerald. The gold isn’t as pure as we have in Krasia. But perhaps the novelty of having once been the possession of a greenland count will help fetch a buyer. I’ll give you a hundred draki for it.’

  Renna barked a laugh, though the sum was likely meaningless to her. ‘Think you need your lens fixed. Ent a thing wrong with those gems, and that gold is pure as snow. You don’t want to pay what it’s worth, I’m sure Smitt …’

  Shamavah laughed, and she bowed. ‘I underestimated the Jiwah Ka of the Par’chin. You have a sharp eye. Two hundred draki.’

  Renna shook her head. ‘Thousand.’

  Shamavah gasped in perfect indignation. ‘I could buy three such necklaces for that. Three hundred, and not a klat more.’

  ‘Five, or I sell to Smitt,’ Renna said, her voice cool.

  Shamavah regarded her, and Arlen didn’t need extra senses to know she was considering a last press. At last she bowed. ‘I can deny the new Jiwah Ka nothing on her wedding day. Five hundred.’

  ‘’Preciate it,’ Renna said. ‘That’ll put livestock in a lot of yards and clothes on a lot of backs.’

  ‘You haggle well,’ Shamavah said. She turned to Arlen, and the corners of her eyes crinkled, her scent amused. ‘Soon, you will no longer need the Par’chin to advise you.’

  ‘All right, Wonda, I’ve waited long enough,’ Leesha said. ‘Come on out.’

  ‘Don’t wanna,’ Wonda said.

  ‘Wonda Cutter,’ Leesha warned, ‘if you’re not out here in—’ She gasped as Wonda stepped into the room in the clothes from Duchess Araine.

  ‘Oh, my,’ she said.

  ‘Look stupid, don’t I?’ Wonda said bitterly. ‘Knew it.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Leesha said. ‘You look magnificent. Once you’re seen about town and folk hear this comes from the Duchess Mum’s own dressmaker, every woman in the Hollow is going to want a set.’

  And it was true. Much as Leesha hated to admit it, the royal dressmaker had outdone herself, crafting an outfit as modest and practical as any a male soldier might wear, yet with a distinctly feminine style.

  The blouse was dark green silk with embroidered ivy and wards in thread-of-gold to add texture to her flat front. The sleeves were loose from shoulder to elbow, but laced tight along her forearms to keep from catching on a bowstring and to slip easily into her wooden bracers. Over the blouse was a thick vest of brown leather, padded on the inside and buttoned snug. It was meant to serve as a buffer between blouse and breastplate, but the vest’s fine and stylish cut made it equally suitable when she was unarmoured.

  From her waist to her knees, the pantaloons of fine brown wool brought to mind the divided skirts many of the fighting women of the Hollow favoured – loose enough to appear a dress if the woman was standing still. In battle, Wonda would wear an over-skirt of flexible goldwood slats, designed to retain freedom of movement and speed while offering the protection of powerful wards.

  The pantaloon legs tapered quickly from the knee, coming to a lace buttoned cuff that slid easily into the soft doeskin knee boots that cushioned her wooden greaves and shoes. With those shoes, Wonda could withstand the full force of a wood demon’s bite on one foot while kicking its skull in with the other.

  Under her arm Wonda carried her open-faced helm of polished wood, carved with more ivy scrollwork wards. If her boots didn’t bash in the demon’s skull, Wonda could just as easily do it with her head. It would be simple for Leesha to add a mind ward and wards of sight around the eyes.

  ‘What about the doublet?’ Leesha asked.

  ‘Gave those away, like the count said,’ Wonda said.

  ‘You didn’t keep one for yourself?’ Leesha asked.

  Wonda shook her head. ‘Don’t work for the Duchess Mum, so I don’t feel right wearing her crest. You give me a doublet with a mortar and pestle, I’ll wear it. If not, this is enough.’ She took her warded cloak off its peg by the door, throwing it over her shoulders.

  Leesha blinked. She pretended to fetch her teacup for the chance to subtly dab her eyes. ‘I’ll have the additional wards for your armour ready by new moon. Your bow as well, if you’ll let it out of your sight for ten seconds.’

  Wonda looked at the weapon where it leaned unstrung against the wall by the door. ‘Don’t see what you need to do with the bow. Painted Man made it himself.’

  ‘I’m not going to change a single ward,’ Leesha said. ‘I’m just going to slip a sliver of demon bone into the grip.’

  Wonda made a face. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because while Arlen can charge the bow’s wards with his hands, you cannot,’ Leesha said. ‘The bone will keep the wards active all the time. Even unwarded arrows will bite at demons when launched from it.’

  Wonda’s eyebrow lifted. ‘Ay? Like the sound of that—’ Suddenly she tensed, moving instantly for the window, a hand on her knife. She relaxed once she had a look.

  ‘Just Darsy.’ She looked back at Leesha. ‘Sure I don’t look stupid?’

  Leesha ignored her. ‘Open the door, please, while I put the kettle back on.’

  A moment later Darsy walked into the room, wringing her hands. ‘Something you need to know, Leesha, and you ent gonna like it.’

  Leesha sighed. ‘Good afternoon to you too, Darsy.’

  When Darsy just stood there, kneading her hands like tough dough, Leesha rolled her fingers. ‘Out with it, then, if it’s got you in such a twist.’

  Darsy nodded. ‘Count’s coachman came back to the Corelings’ Graveyard after dropping you off last night and had a mug or six of ale. Told a few folk there was no point in heading off to bed, as you told him to come back and pick up the count at dawn.’

  ‘Creator,’ Leesha said. ‘How many is a few?’

  Darsy shrugged. ‘Folk talk, Leesh. You know that better’n anyone. And even the new ones in town know your name. You’d have to go ten miles to find someone who hasn’t heard by now.’

  ‘What business is it of anyone’s who Mistress Leesha spends the night with?’ Wonda demanded.

  ‘No one’s,’ Darsy agreed, ‘but try convincing anyone of that.’

  Leesha slipped a hand to her belly, stroking. Do it quick, Elona had said. Do it public.

  She gave Darsy a dramatic sigh. ‘Just ignore the talk, so long as it’s kept out of the hospit. It wouldn’t be the Hollow without folk gossiping over my love life.’

  Darsy snorted. ‘Least you have one.’

  ‘Ay,’ Wonda agreed.

  Darsy looked at the girl as if noticing her for the first time. ‘Love the outfit. You get that down south?’

  Wonda shook her head. ‘Duchess Araine sent it. Had tea with her last spring. Guess she liked me.’

  Arlen looked down at Renna, peaceful as she drifted into her customary afternoon nap. He kissed her temple. ‘Back before you wake, love.’ She gave a contented whimper and gripped at his arm, a smile on her face. He snuggled in close a moment, then pulled free. Exhausted, he would have loved to collapse beside her, but there was no time for resting. He Drew on the magic in his blood, streng
thening himself, and moved out the door and down the steps, quickly leaving the inn behind. Folk pointed as he passed, but he was moving too fast for any to intercept.

  Arlen liked to think there was nothing under the sun that could frighten him any more, but he felt his serenity fading with every step he drew closer to Leesha’s cottage. Of everyone in the Hollow, Leesha’s aura was the hardest for him to read. On the surface, she was as serene as a dama’ting, but just below, she was a rage of conflicting emotions. It was one of the reasons he had been so drawn to her in the first place. He often felt the same.

  Never had it been worse than last night, when she presented the flowered wreath to Renna. It had been an incredibly kind gesture – one that had mollified Ren considerably – but Arlen knew the struggle beneath the surface. With anyone else, he would have thought nothing of Drawing a touch of magic through her and Knowing her feelings fully, but with Leesha it seemed a violation. It was one thing to Know people in order to heal them or help them, to lead or to inspire. It was another to root around in the soul of a woman he wasn’t married to that he might glean her feelings about him.

  Arlen wanted to explain himself to her, but how could he? Objectively, Leesha Paper was everything a man could want in a woman. Beautiful, brilliant, kind, rich, selfless. But when the time came, it wasn’t enough. He was too far gone down a dark path, and felt he didn’t deserve her. He’d needed a woman to pull him from that path, but it hadn’t been her. That was something no old lover wanted to hear. No more than he wanted to hear about how Jardir had bedded her.

  An image flashed in his mind of the two of them entwined, and he grimaced.

  Get past it, he told himself. Leesha made her choices, and I made mine. Don’t change what’s coming, or how little time we have left.

  The door to her cottage was ajar, and he heard the women’s voices long before he made the porch. It wasn’t his intention to spy, but his ears did not ask permission, catching every word.

  Leesha slept with Thamos? The notion seemed ludicrous, but Leesha was making no effort to deny it, so it must be true.

  He shook his head. Don’t matter. Nothing matters other than new moon.

  He was barefoot, but clomped all the same as he went up the porch steps, announcing his presence before he reached the doorway. He knocked loudly, waiting for permission to enter.

  Darsy, Wonda, and Leesha all stared at him, frozen. Darsy and Wonda had a whiff of fear, but Leesha’s scent was as hard to decipher as her aura. There was something different about it since her return, something he could not make out. The urge to Know her took him again, and he was thankful for the sunlight streaming into the cottage, banishing magic.

  The air in Leesha’s cottage was filled as always with myriad scents – spices, herbs, growing plants and dried ones, damp soil and fresh food. Bacon, most of all, hung deliciously over the room. But none of that could mask the scent of sex coming from her bedroom, or the sour tang of vomit in the air.

  Guess it’s true, he thought, trying not to clench a fist. Leesha was free to do as she pleased, but Thamos had a reputation with women that wasn’t terribly positive. If he were to hurt her, or her reputation, Arlen would break that handsome nose of his.

  He took a deep breath. That’s just the magic talking. He tried hard to believe it.

  ‘Morning, ladies,’ he said, putting a cheerful smile on his face. ‘Visit was cut short last night.’ He looked to Leesha. ‘Mind if we talk a spell?’

  Leesha blinked, then shook her head. ‘Of course not. Walk with me in the gardens? They’ve gone untended too long.’

  Arlen nodded, and Leesha took a basket of gardening tools and led the way out into the yard. As they walked into the garden maze, he caught a last exchange between Darsy and Wonda, still back in the cottage.

  ‘What I wouldn’t give to be a bee buzzing in the garden right now,’ Darsy said.

  ‘They got enough people buzzing about them right now, Darsy Cutter,’ Wonda said. ‘Best not be hearing talk about them walking in the garden alone, next time I’m in town.’

  ‘You threatening me, girl?’ Darsy demanded, her voice rising with her short temper.

  ‘Ay,’ Wonda replied quietly. ‘And you’d best take heed.’

  Arlen smiled to himself. If anyone else had said those words, Darsy would have made them eat them. But even Darsy wasn’t fool enough to swing a fist at Wonda Cutter.

  Leesha stopped by the hogroot patch, pulling out a weeding tool. ‘I swear, Darsy should have been a woodcutter. She’s far better at killing plants than growing them.’

  Arlen nodded. ‘She’s also as much a gossip as any in town. Wonda just cowed her into keeping quiet about our stroll.’

  Leesha smelled of amusement. ‘Love that girl.’ She began to dig. ‘Guess it wouldn’t do for your new bride to know you were here.’

  ‘I told her where I was going,’ Arlen said. ‘Not interested in starting my marriage with lies.’

  ‘Came on sudden,’ Leesha said.

  Arlen shrugged. ‘Strange night.’

  ‘Ay,’ Leesha agreed.

  ‘Sorry about how I acted with you,’ Arlen said. ‘Didn’t have a right to get mad like I did.’

  ‘You did,’ Leesha said. Arlen looked at her in surprise, and she held up her spade, coated with rich, fresh soil that smelled of life. ‘I’m not apologizing for anything I’ve done, or saying I’d act differently if I had it to do over. But if what you say about Ahmann is true, then you had right to be as mad as the Core. I’m sorry for that. I never meant to hurt you.’

  ‘It’s true,’ Arlen said.

  ‘I know,’ Leesha said. ‘Can’t say I approve of your choices sometimes, but you’re as honest a man as I’ve ever met.’ She shrugged. ‘For what little that’s worth.’

  ‘So we’re both sorry, but not sorry,’ Arlen said. ‘Where do we go from here?’

  ‘To business, of course,’ Leesha said. ‘Waning is ten dawns away. Do you have a plan?’

  Arlen frowned. Waning. The Krasian name for it. For some reason, that rankled.

  ‘Have a lot of little plans,’ Arlen said. ‘Don’t know what the demons will do, so it’s a fool’s choice to make a big one.’

  ‘Agreed,’ Leesha said. ‘They’re smart. Maybe smarter than us.’

  ‘Ay, maybe,’ Arlen said, ‘but they look down on us, and don’t understand our ways half as well as they think. Gut tells me they’ll try to overwhelm us right away. Come with a host to make a mountain quake, kill me and Jardir, scatter our armies, and leave the rest of the world cowed.’

  Leesha shuddered. ‘Do you think they can do that?’

  Arlen shrugged. ‘Maybe.’ He held up a finger. ‘But if they fail, folk’ll take heart and rally. We’ll be stronger in six months than we are now.’

  ‘So we hit back with everything we have,’ Leesha said.

  Arlen nodded. ‘And they won’t be ready for half of what I can do.’

  Leesha toured the town later in the day, meeting with old friends and patients, asking after their health. It was as Darsy said. Arlen had cleared the hospit of even the most minor injuries and sicknesses, putting all the Hollowers back to work when they were needed most.

  The Gatherers kept busy, though, recruiting every man and woman with skill with a needle to make headbands with mind wards and embroider crude but serviceable versions of the Cloaks of Unsight.

  She met with the town council, though they were mostly symbolic now, with little real power. Thamos had appointed magistrates and tax collectors who would now report to Gared, of all people.

  She shook her head. Gared Cutter, Baron of Cutter’s Hollow, capital of Hollow County. That would take more than a little getting used to.

  The rest of the town seemed puffed with pride about the appointment. The Hollow had never had a lord, and they quickly forgot Gared the town bully from just a few short years back. He had been popular as a child, handsome and strong as an ox; promised to Leesha Paper, whose father spun paper into gold
. But after their split, his reputation had been as ruined as hers, for Bruna made him publicly recant his lies about bedding her.

  Without a bride or the esteem of the town, Gared had turned to his strength to gain respect, with mixed success. No one was fool enough to cross him, but they gave him a wide berth all the same.

  All that changed with the Battle of Cutter’s Hollow. Gared had just lost his father, and all agreed Steave had been a bad influence on the boy from the start. Steave’s affair with Elona was common knowledge. But Gared had emerged from the battle a hero, and had put his life at risk every night since, keeping the town safe. It had been easy to forget the old him. Many of the Cutters had found their calling thus, and all the town had come together, forgiving one another’s failings in their need to survive the night.

  Leesha couldn’t even say Gared would be a poor lord. He had the count to keep him from abusing his power, and seemed content to delegate responsibility and keep his focus on leading the Cutters. If Arlen was right, and the people needed real heroes to look to, Gared fitted the description perfectly.

  But again the image of him and her mother flashed in her mind, and she shook her head, trying to clear it.

  It seemed nothing could banish the sight.

  As promised, Thamos’ carriage came for her at gloaming. Leesha was in the hospit, and many saw her climb in. Folk leaned in to whisper to one another, and Leesha could only imagine what they were saying. Was it scorn, or were they hoping for another grand wedding in the near future?

  Knowing the Hollow, probably a little of both. Leesha resigned herself to it and sat back in the plush carriage. It would only get worse when her belly began to swell, and better people think the child Thamos’ for the nonce.

  The count’s new keep was impressive, she had to admit. Only a skeleton of what it would become if the corelings and Krasians didn’t tear it down first, but already it was a powerful defensive position, built on high ground with a temporary palisade of sharpened stakes to protect the workers who dug the foundation and hauled stone for a more permanent wall.

  Leesha was met in the courtyard by Lord Arther, who escorted her through the yard, past pavilions set to house workers, servants, and men-at-arms. The keep at its centre was a skeletal maze, but Arther guided her to the small livable section that housed Thamos’ personal quarters, which would probably become guest quarters once the count’s proper rooms were appointed.