The Skull Throne
Page 85
“Are you out of your corespawned mind?” Leesha was already wearing Bruna’s shawl. Never a good sign.
Rojer exaggerated his sigh just a touch for effect, taking his time hanging his motley Cloak of Unsight by the door. Leesha’s face was ablaze, and it was always best to stall when she got this way. Leesha didn’t have the stamina to be unreasonable for long. Not with him, anyway.
He wondered how he had once been so intimidated by her. After dealing with Amanvah, Leesha Paper was a sunny stroll through town square.
He left his fiddle case by the door, shut tight to ward away Amanvah’s prying ears. He felt naked without his cloak and fiddle, but that was all the more reason to put them down now and again, lest they claim him completely.
Never let an act own you, Arrick had said, or it will be all you do for the rest of your life. Rather go to the Core than have to tell the same ripping jokes every night from now till I die.
Pointedly ignoring Leesha’s aggressive stance and tone, he made his way into the sitting room, taking his favorite chair. He put his feet up on the stool and waited. A moment later, Leesha huffed into the room and sat in Bruna’s chair. She did not offer tea.
Night, she must be furious, Rojer thought.
“Lusy paid you a visit, ay?” He had assumed this was why Leesha sent word she wanted to see him in the middle of the night. Not that he slept much at night. Few Hollowers did, anymore. Wardlight lit the streets and paths, proof that all were safe from the corelings. People had taken to the new freedom with a vengeance, and now the streets were busy at all hours. Shamavah’s bazaar and Smitt’s General Store both kept night hours now.
“Course she did,” Leesha snapped. “Someone needed to talk some sense into you.”
“You’re my mother, then?” Rojer asked. “Your job to wipe my bottom when it’s dirty and smack it when I’m bad?” He stood up, pretending to fumble with his belt. “You want I should just lay over your knees and we can have done?”
Leesha put a hand up to shield her eyes, but her scowl had fallen away. “Rojer, you keep your pants on or I will give you such a dose of pepper!”
“These are my best pants!” Rojer said, aghast. “I hear you cut your switches fresh, mistress. Sap on silk is impossible to clean.”
“I’ve never switched anyone in my life!” Leesha was fighting a smile now.
“How is that my fault?” Rojer scratched his head. “I could give you pointers, I suppose, but it seems odd to teach someone how to switch you.”
Leesha choked on a laugh. “Corespawn it, Rojer, this isn’t a joke!”
“Ay,” Rojer agreed. “But neither is it a breach at new moon. No one’s bleeding and nothing’s on fire, so there’s no reason not to be civil. I’m your friend, Leesha, not your subject. I’ve shed as much blood for the Hollow as you have.”
Leesha sighed. “You’re right of course. I’m sorry, Rojer.”
“Ay,” Rojer’s eyes grew wide as saucers, “did Leesha Paper just admit she was wrong?”
Leesha snorted as she got up. “Something to tell your grandchildren about. I’ll make tea.”
Rojer followed her to the kitchen, fetching the cups as she put the kettle on the fire. He kept his in hand. Mistress Jessa—madam of Duke Rhinebeck’s brothel, where Rojer had spent much of his formative years—taught him never to trust an Herb Gatherer not to put something in your tea.
Even me, Rojer, Jessa said with a wink. Night, especially me.
Leesha put her hand on her hip, leaning against the counter while they waited for the kettle to boil. “You can’t have expected everyone to think it sunny, taking Kendall as your third wife. Two isn’t enough for you? Night, she’s only sixteen!”
Rojer rolled his eyes. “A whole two years younger than me. The demon of the desert has, what, a dozen years on you? At least Kendall isn’t trying to enslave everyone south of the Hollow.”
Leesha crossed her arms, a sign Rojer was getting to her. “Ahmann is gone, Rojer. He had nothing to do with this attack.”
“Open your eyes, Leesha,” Rojer said. “Just because a man curls your toes doesn’t make him the Deliverer.”
“Ay, you should talk!” Leesha snapped. “Not a season ago, your precious little wives tried to poison me, Rojer. But they emptied your seedpods, so you went and married them anyway, no matter what I thought.”
Rojer’s instinct was to snap back, but Leesha Paper was stubborn as a rock demon if you tried to lock horns with her. He kept his voice calm and quiet. “I did. I ignored your advice and did what felt right. And you know what? I’ve no regrets. Don’t need your permission to marry Kendall, either.”
“You need a Tender’s,” Leesha said. “It’ll be easier to find a snowball in the Core.”
“Tenders’ words don’t mean a corespawned thing to me, Leesha,” Rojer said. “Never have. Hayes wouldn’t recognize Sikvah, either. You think we lose any sleep on it?”
“And Lusy?” Leesha asked. “You plan to ignore her, as well?”
Rojer shrugged. “That’s Kendall’s worry. She’s old enough to promise whether her mum likes it or not. Just as well she disapproves. Less chance she’ll want to move in with us.”
“So you’re going through with it?” Leesha asked. “You used to say marriage was a fool’s game. Now you go and do it every time I turn ’round.”
Rojer chuckled. “Tried to talk to you about it. Night of the Gathering, remember? But then Renna showed up …”
“And we all had bigger worries,” Leesha agreed.
“Had my doubts at first,” Rojer said. “Never thought of Kendall like that. Honest word.” He looked at his hands, trying to find a way to express what he was feeling. He could do it easily with his fiddle, but notes always came to him more easily than words.
“This thing I have.” A woeful beginning. “This … affinity with the demons, this way of influencing them with music that you and Arlen expected me to be able to teach—Kendall’s the only one who really gets it. The Jongleurs, even Amanvah and Sikvah, can follow a lead and mimic the notes, but they don’t … feel it like Kendall does. When she and I play together, it’s as transcendent and intimate as anything in marriage. When the four of us play, it’s a ripping choir of seraphs.”
He smiled. “Only natural to want to kiss, after.”
“So kiss!” Leesha said. “Night, stick each other silly. No one’s business but yours and your wives. But marriage …”
“Told you, we don’t need a Tender’s blessing,” Rojer said. “Kendall’s my apprentice. Only natural she live with us. She’ll have her Jongleur’s license soon, and we’ll invite Lusy to stay. It’s certainly better than the hovel the women are sharing.”
“You think no one will notice?” Leesha asked.
“Course they will,” Rojer said. “Be the talk of the town. Rojer with his harem. I’ll seed the tale myself.”
“Why?” Leesha said. “Why invite scandal?”
“Because it’s coming whether I like or not,” Rojer said. “Amanvah and Kendall struck a deal before I knew what was going on, and it was a deal only a fool would turn down. So let people gossip now, and get used to it. I’ll make them love me in spite of it, so when Kendall gets pregnant, no one’s surprised when I ledger it a legitimate child.”
Rojer exaggerated his sigh just a touch for effect, taking his time hanging his motley Cloak of Unsight by the door. Leesha’s face was ablaze, and it was always best to stall when she got this way. Leesha didn’t have the stamina to be unreasonable for long. Not with him, anyway.
He wondered how he had once been so intimidated by her. After dealing with Amanvah, Leesha Paper was a sunny stroll through town square.
He left his fiddle case by the door, shut tight to ward away Amanvah’s prying ears. He felt naked without his cloak and fiddle, but that was all the more reason to put them down now and again, lest they claim him completely.
Never let an act own you, Arrick had said, or it will be all you do for the rest of your life. Rather go to the Core than have to tell the same ripping jokes every night from now till I die.
Pointedly ignoring Leesha’s aggressive stance and tone, he made his way into the sitting room, taking his favorite chair. He put his feet up on the stool and waited. A moment later, Leesha huffed into the room and sat in Bruna’s chair. She did not offer tea.
Night, she must be furious, Rojer thought.
“Lusy paid you a visit, ay?” He had assumed this was why Leesha sent word she wanted to see him in the middle of the night. Not that he slept much at night. Few Hollowers did, anymore. Wardlight lit the streets and paths, proof that all were safe from the corelings. People had taken to the new freedom with a vengeance, and now the streets were busy at all hours. Shamavah’s bazaar and Smitt’s General Store both kept night hours now.
“Course she did,” Leesha snapped. “Someone needed to talk some sense into you.”
“You’re my mother, then?” Rojer asked. “Your job to wipe my bottom when it’s dirty and smack it when I’m bad?” He stood up, pretending to fumble with his belt. “You want I should just lay over your knees and we can have done?”
Leesha put a hand up to shield her eyes, but her scowl had fallen away. “Rojer, you keep your pants on or I will give you such a dose of pepper!”
“These are my best pants!” Rojer said, aghast. “I hear you cut your switches fresh, mistress. Sap on silk is impossible to clean.”
“I’ve never switched anyone in my life!” Leesha was fighting a smile now.
“How is that my fault?” Rojer scratched his head. “I could give you pointers, I suppose, but it seems odd to teach someone how to switch you.”
Leesha choked on a laugh. “Corespawn it, Rojer, this isn’t a joke!”
“Ay,” Rojer agreed. “But neither is it a breach at new moon. No one’s bleeding and nothing’s on fire, so there’s no reason not to be civil. I’m your friend, Leesha, not your subject. I’ve shed as much blood for the Hollow as you have.”
Leesha sighed. “You’re right of course. I’m sorry, Rojer.”
“Ay,” Rojer’s eyes grew wide as saucers, “did Leesha Paper just admit she was wrong?”
Leesha snorted as she got up. “Something to tell your grandchildren about. I’ll make tea.”
Rojer followed her to the kitchen, fetching the cups as she put the kettle on the fire. He kept his in hand. Mistress Jessa—madam of Duke Rhinebeck’s brothel, where Rojer had spent much of his formative years—taught him never to trust an Herb Gatherer not to put something in your tea.
Even me, Rojer, Jessa said with a wink. Night, especially me.
Leesha put her hand on her hip, leaning against the counter while they waited for the kettle to boil. “You can’t have expected everyone to think it sunny, taking Kendall as your third wife. Two isn’t enough for you? Night, she’s only sixteen!”
Rojer rolled his eyes. “A whole two years younger than me. The demon of the desert has, what, a dozen years on you? At least Kendall isn’t trying to enslave everyone south of the Hollow.”
Leesha crossed her arms, a sign Rojer was getting to her. “Ahmann is gone, Rojer. He had nothing to do with this attack.”
“Open your eyes, Leesha,” Rojer said. “Just because a man curls your toes doesn’t make him the Deliverer.”
“Ay, you should talk!” Leesha snapped. “Not a season ago, your precious little wives tried to poison me, Rojer. But they emptied your seedpods, so you went and married them anyway, no matter what I thought.”
Rojer’s instinct was to snap back, but Leesha Paper was stubborn as a rock demon if you tried to lock horns with her. He kept his voice calm and quiet. “I did. I ignored your advice and did what felt right. And you know what? I’ve no regrets. Don’t need your permission to marry Kendall, either.”
“You need a Tender’s,” Leesha said. “It’ll be easier to find a snowball in the Core.”
“Tenders’ words don’t mean a corespawned thing to me, Leesha,” Rojer said. “Never have. Hayes wouldn’t recognize Sikvah, either. You think we lose any sleep on it?”
“And Lusy?” Leesha asked. “You plan to ignore her, as well?”
Rojer shrugged. “That’s Kendall’s worry. She’s old enough to promise whether her mum likes it or not. Just as well she disapproves. Less chance she’ll want to move in with us.”
“So you’re going through with it?” Leesha asked. “You used to say marriage was a fool’s game. Now you go and do it every time I turn ’round.”
Rojer chuckled. “Tried to talk to you about it. Night of the Gathering, remember? But then Renna showed up …”
“And we all had bigger worries,” Leesha agreed.
“Had my doubts at first,” Rojer said. “Never thought of Kendall like that. Honest word.” He looked at his hands, trying to find a way to express what he was feeling. He could do it easily with his fiddle, but notes always came to him more easily than words.
“This thing I have.” A woeful beginning. “This … affinity with the demons, this way of influencing them with music that you and Arlen expected me to be able to teach—Kendall’s the only one who really gets it. The Jongleurs, even Amanvah and Sikvah, can follow a lead and mimic the notes, but they don’t … feel it like Kendall does. When she and I play together, it’s as transcendent and intimate as anything in marriage. When the four of us play, it’s a ripping choir of seraphs.”
He smiled. “Only natural to want to kiss, after.”
“So kiss!” Leesha said. “Night, stick each other silly. No one’s business but yours and your wives. But marriage …”
“Told you, we don’t need a Tender’s blessing,” Rojer said. “Kendall’s my apprentice. Only natural she live with us. She’ll have her Jongleur’s license soon, and we’ll invite Lusy to stay. It’s certainly better than the hovel the women are sharing.”
“You think no one will notice?” Leesha asked.
“Course they will,” Rojer said. “Be the talk of the town. Rojer with his harem. I’ll seed the tale myself.”
“Why?” Leesha said. “Why invite scandal?”
“Because it’s coming whether I like or not,” Rojer said. “Amanvah and Kendall struck a deal before I knew what was going on, and it was a deal only a fool would turn down. So let people gossip now, and get used to it. I’ll make them love me in spite of it, so when Kendall gets pregnant, no one’s surprised when I ledger it a legitimate child.”
