The Daylight War
Page 128
With that, he took his fiddle and began the opening notes to The Battle of Cutter’s Hollow. Folk recognized them and began to cheer anew, stomping their feet so hard Rojer could feel the sturdy stage rattling. He saw Kendall lingering stage right and beckoned her, twirling his bow until she began to play as well.
Together they began the melody, a song they had played together a thousand times. The other Jongleurs had obviously learned the song, because they joined the pair smoothly, accompanying their lead as Rojer began to sing. He kept the tempo slow, letting each verse be its own little world as he took the Hollowers through all the trials and triumph of that night.
There was a solo in the piece, but Kendall kept playing even as the other players fell silent. Her fiddling had improved greatly since he’d seen her last, and she smirked at him.
Never one to back down from a musical challenge, the solo became a battle, as each of them played increasingly complex tunes, Kendall keeping pace to the point where Rojer laughed aloud and let her have the final round before he went into the next verse of the song. People threw up their hands and cheered when the last note fell and the players went silent. Throughout the audience, folk were wiping at tears.
He caught a flash of colour out of the corner of his eye, and turned back to see Amanvah and Sikvah approaching, his Jiwah Ka in bright red and orange silks, his Jiwah Sen in blue and green. The cloth was opaque, but as thin and flowing as one would expect of Krasian silk. They were bedecked in warded jewellery, and wore their warded chokers.
They ascended the stage as the Hollowers stared and gasped. The cut was more modest than they wore in the bedchamber, but still showed far more skin than any Krasian woman, even a dama’ting, would dare in public. Even by Northern standards, the attire was scandalous.
Amanvah bowed, presenting Rojer with his chinrest. ‘Thank you, my Jiwah Ka,’ he said, taking the rest and attaching it to the base of his fiddle.
He turned back to the crowd. ‘I’ve learned a new song while I was away. I had to translate it into Thesan and make a few changes, but it’s about something important to us all, and I think the warded couple would like to hear it.’ He nodded to Arlen. ‘I hope you enjoy it.’
And with that, he began the Song of Waning. There was no hesitation now, and Amanvah and Sikvah joined him smoothly. With the wards amplifying them and the sound shell directing the sound, the song shook the crowd with its power.
The other players stayed silent, afraid to join in as they listened intently. The Hollowers did the same, their eyes wide.
When it was over, there was utter silence. Rojer looked up at Arlen and raised an eyebrow. The man was more than a hundred yards away, but Rojer did not doubt he caught the gesture. He nodded, and began clapping loudly. Soon the entire throng was clapping along, hooting and stomping their feet.
‘Now,’ Rojer called with a smile, ‘let’s shut up and dance!’ He kicked back into another reel, and the other players fell over themselves to ready their instruments and join in.
Leesha could have cut the line. She was Mistress of the Hollow, and these were still her children. If she had walked right up to the couple, none would have barred her way. Indeed, they would bow from her path as soon as they saw her face.
But Leesha was in no hurry, content with time to sort through her thoughts. Her fingers worked nervously at the flowers as she watched Arlen and Renna. The young woman was smiling broadly, the thanks on her lips and in her eyes sincere as the Hollowers came to pay their respects.
You don’t know a corespawned thing about her, Leesha told herself, but even as she did, she knew it for a lie. She did know one thing. Arlen loved her. If she truly cared for him, that should be enough.
Still, even with Rojer’s playing, the line moved alarmingly fast, and before long it was her turn and she stepped up before them.
Everyone froze for a moment, even Gared. Only Shamavah was unfazed. ‘Mistress Leesha Paper, daughter of Erny,’ she advised Renna as she wrote the name on her list.
Leesha smiled and gave a curtsy. ‘A bride should have a proper wreath for her hair,’ she said, holding up the circlet she’d woven from the flowers in Stela’s basket.
Renna looked at her, and her eyes said so much more than any words could. They shimmered, wet with tears. ‘It’s beautiful, thank you.’ She bowed as Leesha reached up to place it atop her head.
‘Blessings upon your marriage,’ Leesha said, turning to Arlen. He opened his arms, and she fell into them, squeezing him tightly once and then quickly letting go.
She hoped he didn’t notice the tears on his shirt. Wonda appeared, holding the reins of a heavily laden mule, and Leesha excused herself to hurry over to the girl.
‘Got all the good ones,’ Wonda said.
‘Thank you,’ Leesha said, handing a passing boy a twist of festival crackers and a match. His smile took in his ears and he gave a delighted shout, running off with his prize. ‘Do you think you could see about getting me a drink?’
‘O’ course,’ Wonda said. ‘Tea? Water?’
Leesha shook her head. ‘Something that could take the varnish off my porch.’
Rojer laughed as his wives swung the reel together onstage, their bright silks billowing to the gasps and cheers of the crowd. With a dozen Jongleurs playing, they pulled Rojer into the dance, and Kendall as well, all of them clapping and laughing. Flamework began going off in the crowd, toss bangs, festival crackers, flamewhistles, and firewheels. A space opened up in the centre of the graveyard where Leesha stood, setting off rockets and shooting stars that lit the night sky.
The dancing died down as people stood in awe. Amanvah and Sikvah watched wide-eyed as Leesha put a rocket into the air, and clapped in amazement when it exploded into bright showers of colour.
‘Good time to pay our respects,’ Rojer said, leading them to the stairs stage left, closest to where Arlen and Renna stood. His wives dragged Kendall with them.
‘Tell us more of your Northland wedding customs,’ Amanvah said to the girl.
‘We usually give gifts when we pay respects,’ Kendall said. ‘But after that song … think any gift would pale.’
‘We must give something if that is tradition,’ Sikvah said.
Amanvah nodded. ‘We shall, in the manner we have been shown.’ Rojer didn’t know what to make of that, but he had little time, as the crowd parted to make way for them.
Arlen reached out, pulling Rojer into an unexpected hug. It was shocking. Since when did the Painted Man hug?
‘That was beautiful, Rojer. Heard the Song of Waning before, but never like that. It had …’
‘Power,’ Rojer said. ‘Power to kill a rock demon where it stands. You’ll have your fiddle wizards, as I promised.’ He turned and made leg to Renna, smiling. ‘A gift for your special day.’
Renna blushed as Amanvah went to her. ‘I am Amanvah, First Wife of Rojer, son of Jessum of the Inns of Hollow tribe.’ She turned to her companions. ‘This is my sister-wife, Sikvah, and my husband’s apprentice Kendall.’ The women bowed in turn, and Amanvah reached into her pouch, producing a piece of pure white silk.
‘Kendall tells me wedding gifts are traditional among your people. This is so among my people as well.’ She held up the cloth. ‘You are the Par’chin’s Jiwah Ka, and should have a bridal veil. This is my own veil, woven of purest silk and blessed in the Dama’ting Palace.’
Together they began the melody, a song they had played together a thousand times. The other Jongleurs had obviously learned the song, because they joined the pair smoothly, accompanying their lead as Rojer began to sing. He kept the tempo slow, letting each verse be its own little world as he took the Hollowers through all the trials and triumph of that night.
There was a solo in the piece, but Kendall kept playing even as the other players fell silent. Her fiddling had improved greatly since he’d seen her last, and she smirked at him.
Never one to back down from a musical challenge, the solo became a battle, as each of them played increasingly complex tunes, Kendall keeping pace to the point where Rojer laughed aloud and let her have the final round before he went into the next verse of the song. People threw up their hands and cheered when the last note fell and the players went silent. Throughout the audience, folk were wiping at tears.
He caught a flash of colour out of the corner of his eye, and turned back to see Amanvah and Sikvah approaching, his Jiwah Ka in bright red and orange silks, his Jiwah Sen in blue and green. The cloth was opaque, but as thin and flowing as one would expect of Krasian silk. They were bedecked in warded jewellery, and wore their warded chokers.
They ascended the stage as the Hollowers stared and gasped. The cut was more modest than they wore in the bedchamber, but still showed far more skin than any Krasian woman, even a dama’ting, would dare in public. Even by Northern standards, the attire was scandalous.
Amanvah bowed, presenting Rojer with his chinrest. ‘Thank you, my Jiwah Ka,’ he said, taking the rest and attaching it to the base of his fiddle.
He turned back to the crowd. ‘I’ve learned a new song while I was away. I had to translate it into Thesan and make a few changes, but it’s about something important to us all, and I think the warded couple would like to hear it.’ He nodded to Arlen. ‘I hope you enjoy it.’
And with that, he began the Song of Waning. There was no hesitation now, and Amanvah and Sikvah joined him smoothly. With the wards amplifying them and the sound shell directing the sound, the song shook the crowd with its power.
The other players stayed silent, afraid to join in as they listened intently. The Hollowers did the same, their eyes wide.
When it was over, there was utter silence. Rojer looked up at Arlen and raised an eyebrow. The man was more than a hundred yards away, but Rojer did not doubt he caught the gesture. He nodded, and began clapping loudly. Soon the entire throng was clapping along, hooting and stomping their feet.
‘Now,’ Rojer called with a smile, ‘let’s shut up and dance!’ He kicked back into another reel, and the other players fell over themselves to ready their instruments and join in.
Leesha could have cut the line. She was Mistress of the Hollow, and these were still her children. If she had walked right up to the couple, none would have barred her way. Indeed, they would bow from her path as soon as they saw her face.
But Leesha was in no hurry, content with time to sort through her thoughts. Her fingers worked nervously at the flowers as she watched Arlen and Renna. The young woman was smiling broadly, the thanks on her lips and in her eyes sincere as the Hollowers came to pay their respects.
You don’t know a corespawned thing about her, Leesha told herself, but even as she did, she knew it for a lie. She did know one thing. Arlen loved her. If she truly cared for him, that should be enough.
Still, even with Rojer’s playing, the line moved alarmingly fast, and before long it was her turn and she stepped up before them.
Everyone froze for a moment, even Gared. Only Shamavah was unfazed. ‘Mistress Leesha Paper, daughter of Erny,’ she advised Renna as she wrote the name on her list.
Leesha smiled and gave a curtsy. ‘A bride should have a proper wreath for her hair,’ she said, holding up the circlet she’d woven from the flowers in Stela’s basket.
Renna looked at her, and her eyes said so much more than any words could. They shimmered, wet with tears. ‘It’s beautiful, thank you.’ She bowed as Leesha reached up to place it atop her head.
‘Blessings upon your marriage,’ Leesha said, turning to Arlen. He opened his arms, and she fell into them, squeezing him tightly once and then quickly letting go.
She hoped he didn’t notice the tears on his shirt. Wonda appeared, holding the reins of a heavily laden mule, and Leesha excused herself to hurry over to the girl.
‘Got all the good ones,’ Wonda said.
‘Thank you,’ Leesha said, handing a passing boy a twist of festival crackers and a match. His smile took in his ears and he gave a delighted shout, running off with his prize. ‘Do you think you could see about getting me a drink?’
‘O’ course,’ Wonda said. ‘Tea? Water?’
Leesha shook her head. ‘Something that could take the varnish off my porch.’
Rojer laughed as his wives swung the reel together onstage, their bright silks billowing to the gasps and cheers of the crowd. With a dozen Jongleurs playing, they pulled Rojer into the dance, and Kendall as well, all of them clapping and laughing. Flamework began going off in the crowd, toss bangs, festival crackers, flamewhistles, and firewheels. A space opened up in the centre of the graveyard where Leesha stood, setting off rockets and shooting stars that lit the night sky.
The dancing died down as people stood in awe. Amanvah and Sikvah watched wide-eyed as Leesha put a rocket into the air, and clapped in amazement when it exploded into bright showers of colour.
‘Good time to pay our respects,’ Rojer said, leading them to the stairs stage left, closest to where Arlen and Renna stood. His wives dragged Kendall with them.
‘Tell us more of your Northland wedding customs,’ Amanvah said to the girl.
‘We usually give gifts when we pay respects,’ Kendall said. ‘But after that song … think any gift would pale.’
‘We must give something if that is tradition,’ Sikvah said.
Amanvah nodded. ‘We shall, in the manner we have been shown.’ Rojer didn’t know what to make of that, but he had little time, as the crowd parted to make way for them.
Arlen reached out, pulling Rojer into an unexpected hug. It was shocking. Since when did the Painted Man hug?
‘That was beautiful, Rojer. Heard the Song of Waning before, but never like that. It had …’
‘Power,’ Rojer said. ‘Power to kill a rock demon where it stands. You’ll have your fiddle wizards, as I promised.’ He turned and made leg to Renna, smiling. ‘A gift for your special day.’
Renna blushed as Amanvah went to her. ‘I am Amanvah, First Wife of Rojer, son of Jessum of the Inns of Hollow tribe.’ She turned to her companions. ‘This is my sister-wife, Sikvah, and my husband’s apprentice Kendall.’ The women bowed in turn, and Amanvah reached into her pouch, producing a piece of pure white silk.
‘Kendall tells me wedding gifts are traditional among your people. This is so among my people as well.’ She held up the cloth. ‘You are the Par’chin’s Jiwah Ka, and should have a bridal veil. This is my own veil, woven of purest silk and blessed in the Dama’ting Palace.’
