The Daylight War
Page 119
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 laughed. ‘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.
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 laughed. ‘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.
