The Daylight War (61 page)

Shamavah was haggling with the innkeeper. As usual, she found fault with everything, and based on Sim’s posture, he looked inclined to let her name her price, if she would only go.

Without shifting her attention, Shamavah pointed a finger and one of the black-clad
dal’ting
women moved to take Leesha’s bag. Normally she would have protested, but Leesha was exhausted, head hurting and knees weak. A bowl had been set out for her, but she ignored it, waiting impatiently. All she wanted was to climb into her cart and be left alone.

In truth, no one seemed much inclined towards talking, looking around uncomfortably as Shamavah berated Sim over things that had been totally acceptable. It went on and on until Leesha wanted to scream.

‘Night, just ripping pay him, already!’ she snapped at last. ‘The rooms were fine!’ Everyone jumped at the sound.

Shamavah bowed. ‘As the intended wishes.’ The words were tight. She quickly counted out the coins, and they were on their way. Enkido, standing atop the steps, knocked on a door then, and Amanvah, Sikvah, and Rojer emerged.

Rojer’s wives surrounded him like bodyguards as they went down the steps and out the door, glaring as if daring Leesha to approach.

Not that Leesha had the slightest desire to do so. The pendulum had swung back and forth so many times last night that she could barely remember who was mad at who for what. She could not get to her carriage fast enough.

Light pained her when the headaches were this bad. Just the few feet from the porch awning to the carriage steps felt like Ahmann’s description of the beating sun on the cracked flats of the Krasian desert. Inside, she pulled the curtains close.

Erny took the far corner, closing his curtains without being asked, though he left himself a sliver of sunlight to illuminate the book on his lap. Elona sat across from her but was blissfully silent, staring at nothing, her thoughts far away.

She was still beautiful, Leesha had to admit. So much so that one who did not know her might take that stare for the blank one of a pretty, dim-witted thing. Like her every other pose, Elona had cultivated that look. She was anything but dim-witted, as many learned to their regret. Everyone always said Leesha got her brains from her father, but she wasn’t so sure. Elona Paper was many things, but she was no fool.

There was no music from Rojer’s carriage as the morning wore on, nor cries of pleasure. But there was shouting. Plenty of that. And worse, long painful silences.

When they stopped for lunch, Leesha stepped out long enough to make water and have a bowl brought to her carriage. She caught a glimpse of Rojer stretching his legs, but kept her distance so as not to provoke Sikvah, who stood close by.

Krasians of all castes grew silent as Rojer drew near, pointing and whispering as he passed. Word of his exploits had obviously spread.

Leesha felt much better by evening. Without asking, the Krasians had bypassed the next hamlet and circled the carts some miles down the road. Leesha moved about the camp, inspecting the wards, but the Krasian circles were strong.
Sharum
patrolled the perimeter, killing any demons that drew near with neat spear thrusts from behind the safety of the wards. Wonda did the same, picking off corelings with her bow to clear the area. Gared moved in each time, finishing them quickly with chops of his warded axe and machete.

Leesha looked at him, thinking of what her mother had said. Indeed, Gared was handsome, and Leesha had loved him once, before he proved selfish and possessive to a degree she could not abide.

But did that make him so different from the other men she’d known? None of them had ever truly met her needs. Was Gared any worse than Rojer, Marick, or Arlen, or even Ahmann?

She was given her own tent, its carpeted floor warm and the cluster of pillows that served as the bed inviting. Wonda stood watch outside the flap, her bow ready.

At her request, the girl had provided Leesha with a small bowl of demon ichor from one of her kills, glowing brightly in wardsight. Leesha took a horsehair brush and her plainest shawl, painting wards of misdirection and confusion, adding wards gleaned the night Inevera had used magic to trap Leesha in her pillow chamber. Wards that would direct the power towards humans as well as demons.

The wards glowed dimly as she threw the shawl over her shoulders and lifted the tent flap. Wonda stiffened, looking around and listening carefully, but her eyes slipped away from Leesha as easily as Rojer had done to the corelings. She moved to inspect the flap, peeking inside to see the blankets and pillows Leesha had arranged to appear as her sleeping body. She grunted and replaced the flap, resuming her station outside the tent.

Hidden in plain sight, Leesha passed through the camp towards Gared’s tent, ignored by the
Sharum
sentries. She still wasn’t entirely sure what she meant to do. Even if she went through with it and lay with him, she did not think she would have the nerve to let herself be caught at it as her mother instructed. And if not, what was the point?

She drew a deep breath, decided, and reached for the tent flap. A deep voice from within checked her.

‘Ma’am, we can’t keep doin’ this. It ent right.’

‘You didn’t mind me teaching you what goes where with your da asleep ten feet away,’ Elona said, ‘but now it’s so wrong?’

There was a shuffling sound, and Gared groaned.

‘One last time,’ Elona said. ‘Just so you don’t forget me.’

‘We’ll get caught,’ Gared said, but there was more shuffling, and this time Elona groaned.

‘We ent been caught at it yet,’ she gasped. A rhythmic slapping of flesh followed, and Leesha felt ill. She threw open the tent flap and strode inside, tossing back her shawl. Elona’s arms were around Gared’s neck, and he held her suspended in mid-air, skirts around her waist and his breeches around his ankles.

‘You have now,’ Leesha said.

‘Night!’ Gared shouted, dropping Elona, who gave a yelp as her bare bottom hit the hard canvas floor of the tent.

Leesha put her hands on her hips. ‘Every time I think I’ve seen the lowest you can sink, Mother, you find a deeper place.’

‘Oh, if that ent the night calling it black,’ Elona muttered, getting to her feet and smoothing her skirts. Gared had yanked up his breeches and was attempting to force his still-stiffened member back inside. It was a futile task.

‘When I tell Da …’ Leesha began.

‘You won’t,’ Elona said, ‘if not out of respect for what it would do to your poor father, then on your Gatherer’s oath.’

‘This isn’t Gatherer’s business,’ Leesha said.

‘Everything is Gatherer’s business when you wear the apron!’ Elona shot back. ‘Did Bruna ever belie the affairs of the town? I promise you, she knew every one.’

She looked down her nose. ‘And besides, I’m not the only one with a secret. What are you doing here in the middle of the night, Leesha?’

Leesha glanced at Gared, but he had turned his back on them, still fumbling. Her mother had her checked, and she knew it.

‘Come along,’ she said, lifting one side of her shawl to wrap it around Elona’s shoulders. It would protect them both as they went back to the tents where they belonged.

Gared finally managed to lace his trousers back up and turned back to them, a guilty look on his face.

‘You’ve disappointed me again, Gared Cutter,’ Leesha said. ‘And just when I was beginning to think you a changed man.’

Gared looked stricken. ‘It ent my fault!’

‘Course not,’ Elona snapped as she stepped into Leesha’s shawl and they turned to go. ‘Mrs Paper had her way with you and you were helpless as a Rizonan girl when the
Sharum
came.’

Leesha was prepared for the morning sickness this time, and managed to deal with it without alerting anyone that anything was amiss. By lunchtime, she was feeling normal.

Gared came to her as she stretched her legs. ‘All right if we talk a bit?’

Leesha sighed. ‘I don’t think there’s much you can say, Gar.’

Gared nodded. ‘Guess I deserve that.’

‘You guess?’ Leesha asked. ‘Gared, you had sex with my mother!’

‘What’s it to you?’ Gared demanded. ‘You declared our promise broken a long time ago, and I ent bothered you since. I don’t owe you anything.’

‘What about my father, who took you in when your home was destroyed?’ Leesha demanded. ‘Did you owe him anything? Or your own da?’

Gared spread his hands. ‘You don’t know what it was like, Leesh. After Bruna made me tell the town I’d lied about you, no girl would let herself be caught alone with me for a second. Even after you left town for Angiers, I was as popular as itchweed.’

‘I don’t blame them,’ Leesha said.

Gared swallowed a scowl, keeping his patience. ‘Ay, maybe so. But it was lonely, too. Yur mum was the only woman in the whole town paid any attention to me. Only one who acted like I was worth more’n spit.’

He sighed. ‘And in the right light, she looked just like you. I could close my eyes and pretend …’

‘Ugh!’ Leesha cried. ‘I do
not
need to hear that you thought of me while you …’ She felt her nausea returning, tasting bile in her mouth.

‘Sorry,’ Gared said. ‘Just tryin’ to give honest word. Never stopped wanting you.’

Leesha spat the sour taste from her mouth at his feet. ‘Could have had the real me fifteen years ago, you’d kept your mouth shut.’

‘Know that,’ Gared said. ‘Curse myself for it every night. It’s why I was always so angry. But I wonder, maybe it was the Creator’s Plan?’

‘Eh?’ Leesha asked.

‘Whole world would be different, we’d kept our promise,’ Gared said. ‘You might never have trained with Bruna, or gone away to study in the Free Cities. Might not have brought the Deliverer back with you.’

‘The Painted Man is not the Deliverer, Gared,’ Leesha said.

‘How do you know?’ Gared asked. ‘What makes you so sure you got it all figured out? Maybe the Creator din’t make him perfect for a reason. Maybe he’s testing the rest of us, too. Maybe the Deliverer’s just supposed to show the path, and we’re the ones to walk it.’

Leesha looked at him curiously. ‘Why, Gared Cutter, when did such deep thoughts climb into that thick head?’

Gared scowled. ‘Just an idiot to you, ent I? Not worth the attention of that big brain of yurs?’

‘Gared, I didn’t mean—’

‘Course you did,’ Gared cut her off. ‘Yur always so humble, but it’s all an act as you talk to the simpletons.’ He turned to leave.

Leesha reached out, taking his arm. ‘Don’t go.’

But Gared yanked his arm away, refusing to even look at her. ‘No, I get it. I’m just a strong axe and a hard cock to the Paper women.’

He stormed off, leaving Leesha feeling lonelier and more confused than ever.

I
nevera tugged at the thick cloth, stifling in the humid greenland summer. Every breath into the veil seemed to add a blast of steam into the hood. It clung to her hair, matting it with sweat. It had been years since she had been forced to wear even the robes and veil of
dama’ting
, so white the brightest sun slid off them and so fine her skin could breathe as if bare. Save for these few excursions, she had never been forced to wear the blacks of
dal’ting
, and wondered how women could bear them.

She took a breath.
It
is
only
wind. There is nothing other women can bear that you cannot.

The disguise was necessary, and worth any discomfort, for it allowed her to escape the palace and move through the New Bazaar unmolested. She did not fear for herself – few would dare attack her, and more would leap to her defence if any was needed – but the Damajah could not travel without an entourage, and would draw a gawking crowd like scattered crumbs did birds, risking her most precious secret.

Without her dice, she needed her mother’s counsel more than ever, a respite from the wind threatening to snap even the most supple palm.