The Skull Throne (39 page)

He and Amanvah applauded, and Kendall and Sikvah bowed as he had taught them.

“Field demons to the west,” Coliv called. The reap was small, only five of the beasts, but five field demons could rend them to pieces in seconds.

Both women were calm as they turned to regard the approaching threat. Already Sikvah had resumed her song of unsight, masking the five humans atop the hill from the demons’ senses as surely as a warded cloak.

As the reap came in, pulled by Kendall’s insistent call, she knit her brow and layered another melody over the first, wracking them with pain. Sikvah layered a harmony to match, keeping them hidden even as she added power to Kendall’s attack.

Rojer’s hand clenched on the neck of his fiddle as the demons closed, remembering the night she had been cored because of his failing.

But Kendall had been out in the naked night without him many times since, and it was time to stop coddling her.

“Too easy,” he called, as Kendall set the corelings fighting. “Any two-klat Jongleur with one of my music sheets can make demons fight each other.” It wasn’t entirely true, but Kendall was still being timid in her harmony with Sikvah. She needed to push herself.

Kendall smiled at him. “Ay? How about if they fight themselves?”

She twisted the music like a knife in a wound, and the field demons turned their teeth and talons upon themselves. First Kendall made them claw their own eyes, leaving them stumbling blind in agony and rage. Soon after she had them lying on their backs, biting and clawing at themselves in a frenzy until the sheer number of wounds overwhelmed them. Hot, stinking ichor, glowing bright with magic, pooled like syrup around them.

After a few moments, only one of the demons was still kicking. It was a thickly armored creature, the leader of the reap. Kendall eased her melody away, and it leapt to its feet, wounds already beginning to close. In minutes it would be fully healed, and those milky blind eyes would see once more.

Kendall gave it no time. She reached out tendrils of music, catching the demon fast and leading it in a blind charge right into an exposed rock face on the hilltop. It stumbled back, shrieking, but Kendall might as well have had it on a string, using the demon’s own legs to smash its head back into the stone. Again and again, until there was only a wet slapping sound and the creature collapsed, its skull smashed.

Rojer gave a shrill whistle to accompany their applause. Even Coliv banged his spear on his shield. But then he pointed. “Flame demons coming from the south. Wood from the east.”

Rojer looked and saw the approaching corelings, still a few moments away. “Fiddle down, Kendall. Amanvah and Sikvah’s turn.”

Amanvah glided over to join Sikvah, her voice lifting and falling naturally into Sikvah’s song of unsight, weaving in a song of summoning.

Kendall was smiling proudly as she came to Rojer, pressing right up against him. He felt his heart quicken and his face flush. It took little, these days, for his apprentice to excite him. She was a whole new person to him now.

“You’ll soon be as good as me,” Rojer said, meaning it.

Kendall kissed his cheek. “Better.”

“From your lips to the Creator’s ears,” Rojer said. “I’d have it no other way.”

The flame demons came racing up the hill, but before they could reach the top, his wives seduced them. Rojer tried other words to describe it, but none was so apt. The corelings circled Amanvah and Sikvah, giving off a soft, rhythmic noise that sounded disturbingly like purring.

The copse of wood demons drew near, spreading out to surround the hilltop. Coliv dropped into a crouch, and Rojer and Kendall gripped their instruments, ready to raise them at a moment’s notice.

Amanvah led the way as the singers dropped a pitch. The flame demons arched their backs, hissing, and darted to take up guard around the hilltop. They kept hissing as the woodies approached, and when they were in range, spat fire at them.

The resulting battle was fierce, but ultimately one-sided. Wood demons were wary of flame demons, but nevertheless killed them on sight. Flame demons could hurt them, even kill occasionally, but seldom before a wood demon crushed several of them.

Then Sikvah began a counterpoint to Amanvah’s seduction, extending the song of unsight to cover their new allies. Woodies swung wildly, but the nimble flame demons danced around the lumbering blows, hawking great gobs of firespit. The spit stuck where it landed, burning with an intense flame that left Rojer seeing spots. He flexed his right hand, crippled where a flame demon had bitten off his index and middle fingers.

Soon the last of the wood demons had collapsed, bright pyres that burned out into a charred and blackened remain.

“Might as well have stepped into a sunbeam,” Kendall said, applauding.

“Ay,” Rojer said loudly, “but like I told you, making demons fight each other is easy.” Of course, what his wives had done was far beyond that, but like Kendall, they were here to test their boundaries.

Amanvah smiled at him, and Rojer knew his confidence was well placed. She touched her choker as she climbed octaves, the song that moments before had the flame demons dancing their victory becoming a lash that drove them north at a frantic run. There was a cold fishing pond barely a mile in that direction. His senses enhanced by the wardsight, Rojer heard the splashes as the flame demons leapt in, and saw the rising clouds of steam that marked their passing.

There was a flash of magic above their heads, and Rojer looked up to see a wind demon plummet to the ground a few feet away, Coliv’s spear embedded in its chest. The spear survived the fall. The coreling did not.

The Watcher bowed deeply. “You are all touched by Everam, it is true. But this will not save you, if you drop your guard. Everam has no time for fools who do not respect Nie’s might.”

Rojer expected Amanvah to snap at his haughty tone. Instead, she gave a fraction of a bow. More than he had ever seen her give a mere warrior. “You speak wisdom, Watcher, and we hear.”

Coliv bowed again. “I live to serve, Holy Daughter.”

Leesha kept her door shut as she tackled the mounds of paper covering her desk. Outside, Wonda kept visitors away, even Jizell and Darsy. She was in no mood to see anyone.

Wonda’s distinctive knock came at the door, and Leesha sighed, wondering who it was she thought urgent enough to disturb over. “Come in, dear.”

Wonda poked her head in. “Sorry, mistress …”

Leesha did not look up from her papers, pen scratching as she marked, signed, and annotated. “Unless someone’s dying, Wonda, I haven’t the time. Tell them to make an appointment.”

“Ay, that’s just it,” Wonda said. “You asked me to get you at dusk. Supposed to test the Warded Children this evening.”

“It can’t possibly be dusk already …” Leesha began, but looking through her window at the darkening sky, she realized it was true. Already her office so dim she was straining her eyes without realizing.

Leesha looked at the barely dented pile of papers beside her and fought down the urge to weep. Dusk came earlier each day as they approached Solstice, making the tasks she need to accomplish seem that much more insurmountable. Night was a vise, crushing her. New moon in summer had nearly destroyed them. Hollowers died every minute, the entire county holding on for dawn’s succor and time to refortify. What would happen if the coreling princes returned when dark was half again as long, and daylight a scant few hours?

“And Stela wrestled a rippin’ wood demon!” Wonda was saying as Leesha’s carriage made its way home. She and Wonda used to walk the mile from her cottage to the hospit, but now there was no peace for Leesha when she did. Too many well-wishers, petitioners, and would-be advisors.

“Creator, you should have seen it.” Wonda went on. “Corespawn’s thrashing and kicking fit to tear itself in two, and there’s Stela on its back, calm as a tree, waiting patiently for her next hold. Broke its spine in two when she found it.”

“Eh?” Leesha shook her head. “She did what?”

“Ent heard a word I said the last ten minutes, have you?” Wonda asked.

Leesha shook her head. “I’m sorry, dear.”

Wonda squinted at her. “When’s the last time you slept, mistress?”

Leesha shrugged. “A few hours last night.”

“Three,” Wonda said. “Counted. Ent enough, mistress. You know it. ’Specially with you …”

“With me what?” Leesha demanded. They were quite alone. Leesha had put sound-muffling wards in the carriage for privacy.

Wonda paled. “With you … I mean …”

“Out with it, Wonda,” Leesha snapped.

“In a family way,” Wonda said at last.

Leesha sighed. “Who told you?”

Wonda looked at the carriage floor. “Mistress Jizell. Said you needed extra looking after, and were too stubborn to admit it.”

Leesha puckered her lips. “She did, did she?”

“Only trying to look out for you and the little one,” Wonda said. “Din’t know what it was, but I seen how sick you been since we left the south. It’s the demon’s heir, ent it?”

“Wonda Cutter!” Leesha snapped, making the girl jump. “I don’t ever want to hear you call my child that again.”

“Din’t mean …”

Leesha crossed her arms. “You did.”

Wonda looked like she might be sick. “Mistress, I …”

“This once,” Leesha cut in when she hesitated, “I’ll let it pass. This once, for the love I bear you. But never again. When I want you or anyone else to know my business, I’ll tell you. In the meantime, I’ll thank you to keep your nose out of it.”

Wonda nodded, her giant woman’s body shrunk back like the teenage girl she was inside. “Ay, mistress.”

It was full dark by the time they returned to her cottage, but the yard was abustle with apprentices, Gatherers, and the mustering Warded Children. It was standing room only in the theater, where Vika was giving a lesson in warding Cloaks of Unsight. Leesha wanted every Gatherer and apprentice in the Hollow to have one before winter was out.

Vika was seated beside the speaker’s podium, drawing wards onto vellum in the lens chamber. The mirrors and lenses bounced the image onto a white screen as hundreds of women copied the marks into their warding books.

“Children are still gathering,” Wonda said, “and it’ll take Roni and the girls a while to set the weights and measures. Why not nap for a bit? I’ll come knock when we need you.”

Leesha looked at her. “No scolding’s going to keep you from mothering me now, is it?”

Wonda smiled helplessly. “Sorry, mistress. Ent like I can stop knowin’ something.”

Leesha regretted the harsh tone she had used on the girl. Wonda might only be sixteen, but she carried an adult’s responsibilities with a grace few of any age could match. Leesha feared nothing when Wonda was watching over her.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you, Wonda,” she said. “You’re only looking out for me, and I love you for it. You keep at it, even when I’m being …”

“Stubborn as a rock demon?” Wonda supplied.

Leesha laughed in spite of herself. “I’m straight to bed, Mum.”

The way to the cottage door was clear when Wonda moved off to meet the children. They looked at her in wonder, crossing fists over hearts as they gave a
sharusahk
student’s bow. Many of them were older than she was, but nevertheless looked to her as their leader.

Leesha quickened her pace, every step drawing her closer to a few stolen moments of peace. She would brew a tea to put her out, and have another ready to counter it when Wonda woke her. Dare she hope for four uninterrupted hours?

“Leesha,” a voice came from behind her, “glad I caught you.”

Leesha turned, putting a smile on her face that was indistinguishable from the real thing. It was Jizell, the last person in Thesa she wanted to see right now. A visit from Elona would have been preferable.

“Why aren’t you in Vika’s class?” Leesha said.

“Time was, Vika was my student, not the other way around.” Jizell waved her hand. “Let the girls learn warding. I’m too old to put my apprentice apron back on.”

“That’s enough of that,” Leesha snapped.

Jizell started. “Eh?”

“Did you not hear my speech?” Leesha pressed. “Or did you think you could ignore it because I was once your apprentice, too?”

Jizell’s face hardened. “You’ve got stones to say that, girl, after all I’ve done for you. Been working my fingers to the bone since we came to the Hollow when I could’ve headed back to Angiers a moon ago.”

“You have,” Leesha agreed. “So much that the other women look to you when I’m not around. And that is why you need to set a better example, for everyone’s sake. If you ignore me and skip warding class, what’s to stop every Gatherer above fifty from doing it?”

“Not everyone needs to learn warding, Leesha,” Jizell snapped. “You’re asking too much of these women too quick. Piling books and rules on them without even checking to see if they have letters.”

“No,” Leesha said. “You’re asking too little. I nearly died on the road from Angiers because I couldn’t ward so much as a circle of protection. I won’t see that happen to any Gatherer again, if I can help it. Every woman’s life is worth a few hours’ study.”

“Won’t we all soon have Warded Children to protect us?” Jizell asked. “The gossips say that’s your master plan. A warded bodyguard for every Gatherer.”

Leesha wanted to tear her hair. “Night, it’s just a ripping class! Stop undermining me and go!”

Jizell put her hands on her hips. “Undermining? How in the Core have I been undermining?”

“You argue requests that will save lives!” Leesha said. “You ignore rules I set. You act like I’m still your apprentice. Night, you even call me ‘girl’ in front of the other Gatherers!”

Jizell looked surprised. “You know I don’t mean anything by that …”

“I do,” Leesha said. “But the others don’t. It needs to stop.”

Jizell gave a mocking curtsy, hurt clear in her voice. “Anything else you need to get off your paps, mistress?”

Leesha wondered if things would ever be the same between them after this, but she had learned no good came from running away from problems. “You told Wonda I was pregnant.”

Jizell only took a moment to answer, but the desperate search for a lie flashed across her aura so brightly Leesha would have seen it with her eyes closed. “Figured she must already know—”