The Skull Throne (38 page)

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.”

“Is that you talking, or Amanvah?” Leesha asked.

Rojer threw up his hands. “Corespawned if I know.”

It was nearly midnight when Rojer finally left. Leesha watched him leave the yard, scripting her next meeting with Lusy.

If Kendall is willing, there’s nothing you can do to stop this,
she would say, pausing for the shock of the words to set in.
All you can do it delay it and hope the girl comes to her senses. Agree to negotiate, but ask for ridiculous things
… 

She shook herself. There would be time for it in the morning.
If I get in bed right now, I might get six hours before Wonda and the children come back and folk start stomping on the porch.

Leesha closed the door and went straight to her bedroom, leaving a trail of hairpins and shoes. Her dress was falling as she entered the room, the silk shift she wore underneath nightgown enough. She climbed into bed, forgoing even her nightly cleansing rituals. Her face and teeth would have to survive a few hours.

It felt like she had just closed her eyes when there was a pounding at the door. Leesha sat bolt upright, wondering how the night could have passed so soon.

But then she opened her eyes, and saw the room was still dark, lit only by the soft glow of wards.

The thumping continued as Leesha fumbled on her robe, staggering out of the room. She had deliberately not used
hora
tonight that she might sleep naturally, and now felt worse than she had the morning after she got drunk at Arlen’s wedding. Her head throbbed with agony at every rap on the wood.

Either there’s someone bleeding to death on the other side of that door, or there’s going to be.
Leesha made no effort to disguise her displeasure as she opened the door, only to find her mother on her front porch.

The Creator is punishing me,
she thought.
It’s the only explanation.

Elona looked her up and down as she stood frazzled and fuming in the doorway. “Putting on a little weight, girl. Folk are already whispering that the count may have an heir on the way.”

Leesha crossed her arms. “Rumors you’re no doubt fueling.”

Elona shrugged. “A wink here, a nudge there. Nothing to hold before a magistrate. You put your klats on the table when you got drunk and stuck the count in front of his carriage driver, Leesha. Too late to pull the bet now.”

“We didn’t do it in front of …” Leesha began, but cut herself off. Why was she even engaging? Her bed still beckoned. “Why are you here in the middle of the night, Mother?”

“Pfaw, it’s barely midnight,” Elona said. “Since when are you in bed so early?”

Leesha breathed. It was a fair point. She was used to receiving visitors at all hours, but most of them sent word first.

Elona tired of waiting for an invitation and pushed past Leesha. “Put the kettle on, that’s a girl. Nights are turning chill as a coreling’s heart.”

Leesha closed her eyes, counting to ten before closing the door and refilling the kettle. Elona, of course, didn’t lift a finger to help. She was in the sitting room when Leesha brought the tray. Bruna’s rocking chair was by no means the most comfortable place to sit, but Elona took it anyway, if only because she knew Leesha preferred it.

Leesha kept her dignity as she settled on a divan, back straight. “Why are you here, Mother?”

Elona sipped her tea, made a face, and added three more sugars. “Got news.”

“Good or bad?” Leesha asked, already knowing the answer. She could not recall a time her mother had ever delivered good news.

“Bit of both, from where you stand,” Elona said. “I don’t think you’re alone.”

“Alone?” Leesha asked.

Elona arched her back, rubbing her free hand on her stomach. “Might have my own scandal brewing, just in time to distract from yours.”

Leesha tried to speak, but no words would come. She stared at her mother a long time. “You’re …”

“Sick as a cat, and my flow ent come,” Elona confirmed. “How that’s even possible is beyond me, but there it is.”

“It’s certainly possible,” Leesha said. “You’re only forty-f—”

“Ay!” Elona cut her off. “No need to throw barbs! Ent talking about age. Quarter century ago Hag Bruna—your sainted teacher—told me you were my womb’s last chance. Ent had a lick of pomm tea or made a man pull out since, but not an egg in the warmer. You mean to tell me all of a sudden I’m a fresh flower again?”

“Anything’s possible,” Leesha said, “but if I had to guess, I’d say it was the greatward.”

“Ay?” Elona said.

“Everyone in Cutter’s Hollow has been living for nearly a year on a ward that charges the very land with magic,” Leesha said. “Even folk who don’t fight are getting a bit of the feedback, making them younger, stronger—”

“—and more fertile,” Elona guessed. She lifted a biscuit, then gagged and put it back on her saucer. “Ent all bad, I suppose. Your sibling and your child can crap the same crib and chase each other in the garden.”

Leesha tried to imagine that, but it was just too much. “Mother, I have to ask …”

“Who’s the da?” Elona asked. “Core if I know. Gared was sticking me regular the last few years …”

“Creator, Mother!” Leesha cried.

Elona ignored her and went on. “But the boy’s gotten all religious since he stood up for the Warded Man. Hasn’t touched me since you caught us on the road.”

She sighed. “Could be your father’s, I suppose, but Erny’s not the man he used to be. You’d be amazed, what I have to do just to get him stiff enough to …”

“Augh!” Leesha covered her ears.

“What?” Elona said. “Ent you the town Gatherer? Ent it your job to listen to this kind of talk and help folk figure things out?”

“Well, yes …” Leesha began.

“So everyone else is good enough, but not your own mum?” Elona demanded.

Leesha rolled her eyes. “Mother, no one else comes to me with stories like this. And what about Da? He’s a right to know the child might not be his.”

“Hah!” Elona laughed. “If that ent the night callin’ it dark, I don’t know what is.”

Leesha pressed her lips together. It was true enough.

“He knows, in any event,” Elona said.

Leesha blinked. “He knows?”

“Course he knows!” Elona snapped. “Your da has many failings, Leesha, but he ent dumb. Knows he can’t plow the field well as it needs, and looks the other way when I get it done proper.”

She winked. “Though I caught him watching a couple times. Didn’t need help getting stiff those nights.”

Leesha put her face in her hands. “Creator, just take me.”

“Point is,” Elona said, “Erny’s fine so long as no one rubs his nose in it.”

“Like you do every chance you get?” Leesha asked.

“I do no such thing!” Elona snapped. “I may talk that way around you, but you’re family. Ent like I’m telling the prissy wives at the Holy House that your da likes to—”

“Fine!” Leesha would rather give her mother the win than endure this conversation a moment longer. “So we don’t know who the father of your baby is. We can be run out of town together.”

“Core with that,” Elona said. “We’re Paper women. Town’s just gonna have to get used to us.”

CHAPTER 16

DEMON’S HEIR

333 AR WINTER

“Apologies, mistress,” Tarisa said, trying for a third time to fasten the back of Leesha’s gown. “The material appears to have shrunk. Perhaps you should choose another while I have the seamstresses let it out.”

Shrunk.
Tarisa, bless her, was far too discreet to ever tell Leesha she was putting on weight, but it was clear as day in the silvered mirror. The face that stared back at her was plumper, a change shared by her bosom, which seemed to have doubled in size over the last fortnight. Thamos was paying them more attention, but had not yet put the evidence together. Tarisa, however, had a knowing look in her eye, and a hint of smile at the corner of her mouth.

“Please.” Leesha stepped behind the changing screen, running a hand over her stomach as she slipped out of the gown. It remained flat enough, but that wouldn’t last. Her mother had told her the gossip was already beginning weeks ago. None dared speak of it to her face, but the moment her belly began to swell, there would be no stopping the goodwives from swarming her, causing such a stir Thamos couldn’t help but notice.

Her hands clenched as panic took her. Her heart pounded, and it felt like her chest was bound tight, unable to draw a full breath. She gasped for air, eyes beginning to water, but she bit back her sobs. It would not do for Tarisa to see her so.

She fumbled for a kerchief, but none was to be found. She was about to lift the hem of her shift to dry her eyes when Tarisa’s hand appeared, passing a clean cloth behind the screen.

“Tears will come and go, my lady,” the woman said. “Better by far than sloshing up.”

She knows.
It was not a surprise, but the confirmation still terrified Leesha. Her time was fast running out. In some ways, it was already too late.

“Had enough of both to last a lifetime,” Leesha said. “Please fetch the green gown.” That one had laces more easily adjusted.

There was no council session this day, and Thamos had already left for his office. Tarisa, having planted the seed, kept her talk about frivolous things. She had made herself available if Leesha wished to talk, but knew her place too well to press. She and the other servants would no doubt be elated. They all loved the count, and had welcomed Leesha openly. Everyone wanted an heir.

What will they think when they discover the child is heir to the demon of the desert and not their beloved count?

Leesha hurried from the palace as quickly as possible, needing distance from prying eyes of the servants. Tarisa might not speak of her suspicions to Leesha directly, but no doubt gossip was rampant in the servants’ quarters.

The hospit was little safer. The women might not see her in a state of undress as Tarisa did, but they saw with trained eyes. A good Gatherer was taught to suspect that every woman might be pregnant, and looked for the signs reflexively. Leesha hurried through the main floor to her office, closing the door. She sat at her desk and put her head in her hands.

Creator, what am I going to do?

There was a knock at the door, and Leesha swore under her breath. Was a moment’s peace too much to ask?

She arched her back, drawing a deep breath and blocking away her own concerns. “Enter.”

Amanvah slipped into the room, followed by Lusy Yarnballer, shooting daggers into the young priestess’ back.

It was all Leesha could do not to burst into tears. Why couldn’t it have been a rock demon?

Fortunately, the women were too involved in their own drama to even notice as Leesha composed herself. Both strode to the chairs in front of Leesha’s desk, taking seats without invitation. Lusy’s mouth was a hard line, veins throbbing at her temples. Just the sight of it made Leesha’s own head ache.

Amanvah was more composed, but Leesha could tell it was an act. The woman looked ready to pull her silk veil aside and spit. “We must speak with you, mistress.”

Leesha’s nostrils flared. Amanvah was respectful, but she could not mask the imperious tone that came with her requests, as if they were mere formalities and complicity assured.

“The negotiations are not going well?” she asked, knowing well the answer.

Amanvah’s serenity broke. “She wants a palace. A palace! For a
chin
third wife whose family are servants to shepherds.”

“Ay!” Lusy cried.

“Do not be so quick to judge those of low station,” Leesha said. She had been the one to suggest the palace to Lusy, after studying Krasian marriage laws. “Was not Kaji born to a family of lowly fruit pickers? Dozens of his wives had palaces of their own.”

“Kaji was the Deliverer, touched by Everam,” Amanvah said.

“By your own words, Rojer is touched by Everam as well,” Leesha noted.

Amanvah paused at that. “He is …”

“And also by your own words, Kendall shares something of his gift. Does that not mean she, too, is touched?”

Amanvah leaned back, crossing her arms defensively. “Everam touches all in some way. Not everyone gets a palace. Do I have one? Does Sikvah? We are Blood of the Deliverer. Should this Kendall be put above us?”

“Ay, that’s right,” Lusy said. “Maybe
she
ought to be
Jiwah
First or whatever.”

Amanvah’s eyebrow twitched, and Leesha knew she had taken it too far.

“That’s enough, Lusy.” She put a touch of lash into the words, and the woman started. “I know you love your daughter and want the best for her, but what in the Core do you need a palace for? Night, have you ever even seen one?”

Lusy looked ready to cry. Not the sharpest spear. “B-but you said …”

Leesha had no time to coddle her, cutting the woman off before she gave away the ruse. “I never said for you to be insulting. Apologize. Now.”

Lusy, a terrified look on her face, turned to Amanvah, pulling her skirts in a clumsy, seated imitation of a curtsy. “Sorry, your, er …”

“Highness,” Leesha supplied.

“Highness,” Lusy echoed.

“I think it’s best we give this a little time for everyone to think it through.” Leesha said. “Amanvah to remind herself Kendall is not some pack mule to haggle over, and Lusy to remind herself of the Canon’s passages on greed. Roni will schedule a time we can meet again. Perhaps at full moon?”

Full moon was a blessed day to the Evejans, a day for oaths and alliances. It also happened to put the problem off for nearly a month, when she and Lusy would look for another reason to delay.

Amanvah nodded. “That is acceptable.”

Lusy wasted no time getting out of her seat. She curtsied and was gone. Amanvah remained seated, shaking her head as the door closed behind her.

“Everam’s balls, I am not sure if that woman is a bazaar grand master or a complete idiot.”

Leesha was shocked. “Why Amanvah, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse.”

“I am a Bride of Everam,” Amanvah said. “If I cannot speak of His balls, who can?”

Leesha laughed at that—her first real laugh in what felt like forever. Amanvah joined her, and for a moment there was peace between them.

“Is something else on your mind, Amanvah?” she asked.

“You are carrying a child,” Amanvah said. “I want to know if it is my father’s.”

And just like that, the peace was gone. So, too, was Leesha’s weariness and frustration. Adrenaline flooded her, every sense on alert. If Amanvah dared make the slightest threat to her child … 

“I don’t know what you’re talking …”

Amanvah held up her
hora
pouch. “Do not lie, mistress. The dice have already confirmed it.”

“But not whose it is?” Leesha asked. “Curious things, these dice. Fickle, it seems. Unreliable.”

“That you are with child, there is no doubt,” Amanvah said. “To know more, I would require blood.”

She looked at Leesha pointedly. “Just a drop or two, and I could tell the father, the sex, even the very future of the child.”

“Even if I was, what business of yours is any of that?” Leesha asked.

Amanvah gave a rare bow. “If child is my half sibling, blood of the Deliverer, it is my duty to protect it. Few know better than I how many assassins a child of Shar’Dama Ka will draw.”

It was a tempting offer. The sex of the child might mean a difference of years in the coming war with Krasia, and Leesha desperately wished to know the path to keep the child safe.

But she did not hesitate to shake her head. Giving Amanvah even a drop of blood would let her cast a foretelling that could lay out Leesha’s every weakness. No
dama’ting
would ever have the nerve to so bluntly ask another
hora
user for her blood. It was an insult that could create enmity to last generations.

Leesha turned her voice to a lash. “You forget yourself, daughter of Ahmann. That, or you think me a fool. Begone from my sight. Now, before I lose patience with you completely.”

Amanvah blinked, but Leesha’s stare was hard, her words sincere. Leesha was in her place of power. Everyone in the Hollow would turn on Amanvah if she so much as raised a finger. Most of them were waiting eagerly for the day.

The young priestess kept her dignity as she rose. Her quick strides to the door were not quite a scurry.

As the latch clicked shut, Leesha put her head back in her hands.

Amanvah had a queer look about her as she climbed into the motley coach. Rojer had become accustomed to her moods, reading them in her eyes and bearing as easily as he did with the corelings.

But no empathy could tell him what Amanvah was thinking now. Her manner was unprecedented, showing nothing of her usual haughtiness. She seemed almost shaken.

Rojer reached for her hand. “Are you all right, my love?”

Amanvah returned the squeeze. “All is well, husband. I am simply frustrated.”

Rojer nodded, though he knew how frustration looked on Amanvah, and this wasn’t it.

“Mum still won’t see reason?” Kendall asked.

“Surely Mistress Leesha has convinced her,” Sikvah said.

“Wouldn’t count on that,” Rojer said. “She may not openly oppose it, but Leesha ent thrilled about the idea, either.”

“It remains to be seen,” Amanvah said. “Mistress Leesha appears willing to mediate the contract, but I am not convinced she is impartial. She may drive the dower beyond our ability to pay.”

“Don’t care about any dower,” Kendall said. “Let me talk to her …”

Amanvah shook her head. “Absolutely not. It is not proper for you to involve yourself in these proceedings, little sister.”

“Ay, so everyone gets a say in my marriage but me?” Kendall said.

Rojer had to laugh at that. “Had more say than me. Wasn’t even asked if I wanted it.” When Kendall stared at him, he quickly added, “Though of course I do. Sooner, the better.”

“This is exactly why both of you must be kept above the debate,” Amanvah said. “You will both see the contract before you are asked to sign, but hearing your flaws laid bare as the haggling continues can only do harm. As it is written in the Evejah,
The cold of negotiating a marriage can douse the fires in which it must burn.
”

Kendall sighed. “Just tired of having to sleep at my mum’s. Don’t care about some piece of paper.”

Rojer walked in the naked night, his warded cloak thrown back despite the chill air. He breathed deep, filling his lungs with winter’s bite. He had suffocated in that cloak for too long.

Rojer and Kendall played an easy melody on their fiddles, subtly nudging corelings in the area away, while Amanvah and Sikvah sang a harmony to make them invisible to demon senses.

There were five of them in all. Kendall and Sikvah at the rear, joined in their music like lovers. He and Amanvah were similarly linked. He could feel her voice resonating inside him, more intimate than the touch of their sexes. All four played the same piece, but Amanvah’s voice was led by Rojer’s fiddle, while Sikvah followed Kendall’s. This allowed them to break in two as needed, the blend of strings and voice enhancing each other’s power. Ahead strode Coliv, vigilant, shield and spear at the ready.

They carried no light—the world lit by magic. Rojer and Kendall wore motley warded masks Amanvah and Sikvah had made, allowing them to see its glow. The princesses wore delicate gold nets in their hair, dangling warded coins that offered the same power. Amanvah had sewn the sight wards into Coliv’s turban and veil that he might accompany them.

They walked until they found their favorite practice spot, a wide knoll that let them see far in every direction. Coliv was atop it in an instant, surveying the land. He gave sign all was clear, and the others followed.

When they were in position, Rojer lifted bow from string, his fiddle and Amanvah’s voice falling silent as one.

Kendall nodded, changing the easy melody that kept the demons at bay to a call that reached far into the night, drawing corelings to them with promise of easy prey. Sikvah kept singing, her voice still masking their presence.

Wind demons were the first to reach them, two of the creatures circling down from above. Kendall drew them close, and then her music suddenly shifted. Sikvah smoothly dropped her masking spell, joining her voice to Kendall’s music, and the demons shifted in midflight, colliding with one another and falling from the sky in a jumble of snapping beaks and slashing talons. They struck the ground so heavily Rojer almost could hear their hollow bones shattering.