The Daylight War (43 page)

‘I’m sorry, Rojer,’ she said. ‘I have an empty stomach and a splitting headache and I was out of line. The whole reason they sent those girls to you in the first place was because they think you can pass on your talent for charming demons to your sons. Not much chance of that if they kill you, or take your stones. If you were some
khaffit
or
chin
off the street caught sleeping with the Deliverer’s niece out of wedlock, you might have to worry. But after Inevera made such a show of Sikvah not being a virgin, I think it’s safe to say this was planned from the start.’

Rojer cocked his head. ‘What, like a trap?’

Leesha smiled wanly. ‘One you fell right into. The question is, what will happen now that it’s sprung?’

Elona snorted. ‘May be they’ll lock you in a harem for the rest of your life, breeding and training them an army of little fiddle wizards.’

Gared roared a laugh, slapping a gigantic paw on his knee. ‘Beats cuttin’ wood all day, ay?’

Rojer did not seem to share his enthusiasm, paling and beginning to pace again. He rubbed his chest, where his family medallion rested safely beneath his shirt.

‘Why is everyone ignoring the obvious answer?’ Elona said. ‘Idiots, you and my daughter, both. Just marry them, you nit.’

‘Even if I wanted to,’ Rojer said, ‘they’ll expect a dower worthy of them. I have nothing to offer.’

‘The only thing they want from you is your seedpods.’ She grabbed a handful of material at the crotch of her seated dress and gave it a meaningful shake. ‘You have a power no one has ever seen or heard of outside a Jak Scaletongue story, and they want to know if you can breed it. Jardir told you as much when he offered to find you brides in the first place. And who knows? Maybe he’s right, and it’s something in your blood that lets you charm demons. Can’t hurt to check.’

‘I couldn’t …’ Rojer said.

But Elona didn’t relent, her voice a lash that made the pain in Leesha’s head flare. ‘Couldn’t what? Accept the best marriage offer anyone’s ever heard of? Jardir is rich and powerful beyond belief. Sit next to me and shut up for ten minutes alone with Inevera and the girls, and you can have it all. Lands. Titles. Peasants to tax and rule. More gold than a Milnese mine.’

‘Stolen gold,’ Leesha said. ‘Stolen people. Stolen lands.’

Elona waved a dismissive hand. ‘Everything’s stolen in the end, land most of all. Those people it was taken from ent getting it back in any event, and Rojer’ll be a better lord than some Krasian.’

She turned back to Rojer. ‘And let us not forget daily bed rights to two beautiful women. Creator! They’ll even help you pick more! Do you think offers like that come every day? Believe me, boy,’ her eyes flicked to Erny, just for an instant, ‘they don’t.’

‘I—’ Rojer began.

Elona cut him off with a cruel grin. ‘Or do you prefer boys? Ay, maybe that’s why you chase my unattainable daughter instead of more willing lasses. No shame if you want a man to bend you now and again, but you should still accept and put a pair of brats in those girls. Just close your eyes and picture Gared for the deed.’

‘Ay, now!’ Gared cried.

‘I don’t prefer boys!’ Rojer snapped.

Leesha leaned forward, massaging her temples. ‘If I don’t eat soon, I may scream.’

‘
Sharum
break their fast late,’ a voice said, and Leesha turned to find Abban standing in the doorway. ‘It comes from sleeping in after staying up all night killing demons. But fear not. I will escort you to the Deliverer shortly.’

Leesha wondered how much he had overheard as the fat
khaffit
hobbled over to her on his camel-headed crutch. Wonda tensed as he reached into his robes, but Abban bowed slightly to her, pulling his hand free to show he held only a ripe red apple. Leesha knew then he had heard everything. She wouldn’t put it past Abban to have engineered the entire delay, just for the chance to listen in.

‘Thank you.’ Leesha took the apple and immediately bit into it, the first delicious wet crunch as welcome a medicine as any in her herb pouches. Like smell, her senses of taste and touch were heightened during an attack, and she closed her eyes to savour every chew.

‘Remember, mistress,’ Abban said in a low tone the others could not hear. ‘
You
may be a creature of calculation, but Ahmann is one of passion. His blood tells him right from wrong, and he reacts immediately and without remorse. It is a trait that serves him well as a warrior and leader of men, I imagine.’

‘What of it?’ Leesha asked.

‘It means the Deliverer believes that one day, you are
fated
to marry him. That it is Everam’s will. He may let you go now, but he will never stop pursuing you.

‘As for you, Jongleur,’ Abban continued, raising his voice
and hobbling Rojer’s way, ‘I would worry less about the Deliverer and Damajah, and more about Hasik. If he learns you have lain with his daughter without marrying her honourably, he will consider it rape. The moment Ahmann turns his gaze elsewhere, he will return it tenfold on you, and your little knives might as well be silken kerchiefs, for all they will hinder him.’

Rojer’s mouth fell open, and he clutched for his medallion again. ‘Hasik is Sikvah’s father?’ They knew Jardir’s brutal, hulking bodyguard well.

‘That’s if Hasik finds out, Rojer,’ Leesha cut in, ‘and he won’t. Don’t let Abban scare you.’

The
khaffit
shrugged helplessly. ‘I speak only truth, mistress.’ He bowed. ‘Variables, for your calculus.’

‘Give them all, then.’ Leesha took another bite of her apple. She was close to the core now, nibbling it down to nothing but seed and stem. ‘We both know it’s not in Sikvah’s or Inevera’s interest to tell anyone. Evejan law forbids women to bear witness to rape. Ahmann would have to take Rojer’s word over theirs, and even if he didn’t, the admission would mean Sikvah’s death as well.’

‘Honest word?’ Rojer asked.

‘Disgusting, but true,’ Leesha said.

‘Evejan law can be flexible where the blood of the Deliverer is involved, mistress,’ Abban said. ‘Consider the insult of refusing the girls as unworthy.’

‘Hasik is going to kill me if I don’t accept,’ Rojer said, as if testing the words.

‘Rape and kill, yes,’ Abban agreed.

‘Rape and kill,’ Rojer repeated numbly.

‘Bah, he’s no bigger’n Wonda,’ Gared said, slapping one of his great paws on Rojer’s shoulder. ‘Don’t you worry, I ent gonna let him hurt ya, even if yur acting the fool.’

Rojer was a foot and a half shorter than Gared, but still seemed to look down at him. ‘Don’t shine yourself, Gared. You’re used to being the biggest kid at the swimming hole, but truer is Hasik would have you on the ground in seconds.’

‘And bugger you in front of the other
Sharum
so all see your shame,’ Abban agreed. ‘He is known for that.’

‘Why you fat little …’ Gared lunged, reaching for the
khaffit
’s throat, but Abban stepped smoothly aside on his good leg, then delivered a sharp rap of his camel-headed crutch to the back of the giant Cutter’s leg.

Gared roared in pain and fell to one knee. Stubborn, he turned to grab again, but froze when he found the crutch pointed right at his throat, a thin blade extended from its tip.

‘Ah,’ Abban said, lifting the blade into Gared’s beard, making him gulp. ‘I haven’t been in
sharaj
since my stones dropped, but even I recall enough
sharusahk
to put down a brainless oaf, and I have my tricks to keep them down.’

He stepped back, and the blade disappeared into his crutch with a well-oiled click. ‘So listen to me when I offer you wisdom. When Hasik comes to my house without Ahmann to hold his leash, I bow and stay out of his way, no matter what, or who, he does. That one is a killer of killers, and I have seen many. Heed Drillmaster Kaval and you may one day be his match, but it is not this day.’

He looked at Rojer. ‘Learn from your Mistress Leesha. If you do not wish to accept the girls, delay.’

‘How?’ Rojer asked.

Abban shrugged. ‘Say your custom is to be … promised, you say?’

‘Promised,’ Rojer agreed.

‘Say your custom is that you be promised for a year, or that you must first compose some great work of music to bless the day. Say you will not marry until you learn the Krasian tongue, or until the first day of spring. It does not matter
what
you say, son of Jessum, only that you save face for my master and the girls and give yourself time to get far away from here.’

Rojer and the others followed Abban into Jardir’s huge dining hall. Sunlight streamed in from high windows, filling the room with light. The main section of the marble hall was a collection of long, low tables, surrounded by pillows where hundreds of
Sharum
, the elite Spears of the Deliverer as well as the personal guards of the
Damaji
, sat cross-legged, spears and shields at hand as they gorged themselves on bread, couscous, and spits of roast meat, served in beautifully painted pottery by boys clad only in white bidos.

Rojer gave no outward sign, walking as casually as he would through a field of flowers, but he could feel his heart beating wildly as he passed the warriors. There would be no running from this room, no trick of smoke or fiddle that could spirit them past such a host. They would leave at Jardir’s sufferance, or not at all.

Abban led them through the warriors to a stair to the dais where sat the
Damaji
,
Jardir’s sons and heirs, and various other ranking clerics. There was thick carpet on the floor and warm tapestries on the wall. They sat on silken pillows and ate delicately from rich food piled upon moulded silver wares served by women clad in black from head to toe.

The clerics watched with hate-filled eyes as the Hollowers passed and ascended above them to the next dais. There was no change in his casual stride, no hint of it on his face, but Rojer felt his chest constrict as if the air were being slowly squeezed from his lungs. He knew the skill with which the clerics fought, deadlier with open hands than a Cutter with an axe.

On the next and smallest dais, though still a huge space rich with thick carpet and gilded marble, sat Jardir’s own table. The pillows were embroidered in gold, like the gem-studded bowls, pitchers, and plates, which were served by Jardir’s own women, many of them black-veiled
dama’ting
. Rojer’s stomach twisted at the thought of eating at a table where almost every server was skilled in poisoning. They were all covered from head to toe, but Rojer nonetheless caught sight of Amanvah and Sikvah among them, their shapes and the graceful way they moved etched forever into his mind.

Jardir sat at the head of the table with Inevera at his right, the Damajah clad as ever in diaphanous silk that drew the eye, yet promised a painful death to any man whose gaze lingered too long. At the foot of the table sat Damaji Ashan and Aleverak, their heirs Asukaji and Maji, Jardir’s first- and secondborn sons, Jayan and Asome,
kai’Sharum
Shanjat, and, of course, Hasik.

Despite the obvious futility, Rojer felt a mad urge to run for his life. Subtly, he slid a finger between the buttons of his motley shirt to touch the cold metal of his medallion. As he did, he felt much of his tension ease.

The medallion was the highest award of bravery from the Duke of Angiers, given to Rojer’s adoptive father Arrick Sweetsong as reward for throwing him and his mother to the corelings and then later lying about it. Even Arrick had been unable to stomach that, and when he gathered his things before being expelled from the duke’s palace, he had left the medallion behind even as he took everything else of value he could get his hands on.

But where Arrick abandoned him, others stood fast that night. Geral the Messenger had thrown his mother a shield, and he and Rojer’s father interposed themselves between mother and child and the demons that poured through the ruin of their front door. They had died, much as Arrick many years later, protecting Rojer.

Leesha had etched the names of all who had given their lives for Rojer into the medal of valour, and it had become his talisman. It was a comfort when fear threatened to overwhelm him, but also a reminder that his remaining days were bought with the lives of everyone who had ever cared for him. He wanted to believe it was because there was something special about him, something worth saving, but in truth he had never seen much evidence that was the case.

Leesha took the pillow to Jardir’s left with Rojer after, followed by Elona, Erny, Gared, and Wonda. Abban took his customary place, kneeling a pace behind Jardir, almost invisible in the backdrop.

Sikvah immediately set a tiny cup of thick coffee in front of him, and as he caught her eye, she winked at him, her lashes thick and black. No one else caught the look, and it was a warm, artful gesture that sent a little thrill through Rojer. But he had practised such looks in front of a mirror enough times not to be taken in. Amanvah and Sikvah might be fond of him, and willing to be his brides, but they did not love him. Did not know him well enough for it to be true even if they believed it.