The Daylight War (59 page)

Next Rojer laid the music over the stone demon. The field demons leapt at it as well, but the stone demon caught one by the head in its talons and crushed its skull against the cobbles. It took the other by the tail, swinging it like a man might swing a cat. Another wind demon swooped in, but veered off as the stone swung the field demon at it, then threw the field demon so hard it smashed against one of the porch wardnets in a lightning flare and fell to the ground, smoking and still. A flamer spat on the stone demon’s feet, setting them ablaze, but that did not save it from being kicked clear across the square to strike the wardnet with a flash of magic. When the flame died, the stone demon’s feet were unharmed.

Rojer allowed himself a smile. It was all teachable. All these refrains, these ‘spells’ he had cast on the demons, were melodies they had practised and written down. Other players might not be able to bring the power and harmony of their trio to bear, but they could learn by rote how to call demons or repel them, how to hide from them or send them into a frenzy.

But that was only the barest surface of the power Rojer felt with the women at his side. The truly subtle work he could never hope to write down. It had to be lived and felt in the moment, dependent not only on the demon breeds, but local variables as well, building on the very atmosphere.

This was what he had never been able to teach. He looked back at his
jiwah
, seeing awe in their wide eyes, and a little fear. Even Amanvah had lost her mask, her
dama’ting
serenity overwhelmed. They could imitate him, but not innovate.

There’s more, my loves
,
Rojer thought, turning back to regard the demons again. He took on a predatory demeanour,
stalking the corelings as he and his wives herded them, separating them by breed. The song was done now, but Rojer kept on playing, building the final refrain louder and stronger, adding shifts and changes as quickly as Amanvah and Sikvah could pick them up. The demons backed into tight knots, hissing and clawing at the air, terrified of the power that was building but afraid to run lest they turn their backs on whatever hunted them.

And then Rojer began to hurt them, driving the music into them in jarring, discordant waves that seemed to strike the creatures like physical blows. They screamed, some falling to the cobbles, clawing at their own heads as if they could tear the sound out and be free of it. Even the wind demons above shrieked in agony, but the music held them fast, and they could not flee, circling endlessly.

Rojer looked up and changed his tune again, calling the wind demons down from the night sky.
The
source
of
your
pain
is
here! Strike now and silence it!

The windies dived with terrifying speed, but Rojer and his wives were not where the music led – off to the side, and several feet low. The wind demons struck the cobbles with incredible force, their hollow bones crunching and splintering on impact. In seconds, the square was littered with their corpses.

He turned to the wood demons next, howling like trees bent near to breaking in a gale. Rojer thought of the fire-eaters, Jongleurs in Angiers who pretended to swallow fire, then spat it back out again with a spark and a mouthful of alcohol. It was generally thought a ‘low’ act – dangerous flash used to hide a lack of talent. Jongleurs who did it often got hurt, and in the forest fortress, spitting fire was against the law save in very specific circumstances. It was usually an opening act for a Jongleur of more renown.

I
have
flame
demons
to
open
my
act
now
, Rojer thought as he made the flamers spit fire on the wood demons, aiming them as easily as Wonda might her bow.

The wood demons caught fire immediately, and unlike the stone they were not immune to its effects. They shrieked and flailed, snatching up the flame demons and crushing the life from them, but it was too late. Black smoke billowed into a thick stinking cloud as they collapsed to the ground, immolated.

Only the stone demon remained, close to eight feet of muscle and sinew, covered in indestructible knobs like river stones. It stood silent as a statue, but Rojer knew it was desperately seeking them, a killing rage barely contained. He smiled.

The trio began to circle, intensifying the refrain, notes going ever higher even as they revealed more and more of the wards of amplification. The demon began to shriek, covering its head in its talons and looking frantically about for an escape, but they tightened their circle, and it seemed the pain came from all sides. The demon wobbled, then dropped to one knee, letting out a roar of agony as sweet as any music.

Even the folk around the square were covering their ears now. Rojer’s own head was ringing, ears aching, but he ignored the pain, taking his chin from the fiddle entirely.

The stone demon gave a final twist, and there was a
crack!
like an old oak snapping in a windstorm. Fissures spiderwebbed through the demon’s armour, and it fell to the ground, dead.

Rojer stopped playing instantly, and his wives followed. The square fell silent, and Rojer inhaled the hush before the roar.

‘C
lose your mouth, dear,’ Elona told Leesha. ‘You look like a woodbrained bumpkin.’

Leesha turned to retort, but realized she was indeed standing with her mouth open. Her teeth clicked as she snapped it shut, just as everyone around the Northfork town square burst into a roar, hooting and clapping and stomping their feet. One of the
Sharum
let out an ululating cry of delight, and even Kaval looked as if he had forgotten his rage.

It was understandable. The
Sharum
respected nothing more than a man’s ability to kill demons, and Rojer had just displayed incredible power, killing corelings without even touching them. Even the Shar’Dama Ka could not do that. They looked at him awestruck, but no less so than the local villagers. Even Gared had that fanatical gleam in his eye, the one she thought reserved for Arlen alone.

But the power was not all Rojer’s. She had heard him charm demons with his fiddle many times, but never so loudly her ears rang and the floorboards rattled. There was
hora
magic at work, she would bet her bottom.

At barely seventeen, it was easy to think Amanvah just a girl – one Leesha had dominated before. But she wore the white of
dama’ting
, and that meant she was schooled in the secrets of demon bone magic. Magic Leesha had seen Inevera display to powerful effect. She had done something to Rojer’s fiddle, as well as the golden chokers she and Sikvah wore, using the magic to amplify their music.

Leesha understood the principles now – using bones to power wardings even when there were no demons about. Already she had begun to experiment, but the Krasian holy women had centuries of experience to draw on, while she was only just now feeling her way.

The crowd was still cheering when she left the porch, going out to the trio. Rojer was bowing like a master showman, gesturing for his wives to do the same. Sikvah did, bowing lower than her husband, as was the custom, though in her bed silks the move was downright scandalous. Amanvah looked decidedly uncomfortable at the idea of bowing to her lessers, and settled for nodding to the crowd like the Duchess Mum acknowledging a curtsy.

Rojer beamed at Leesha as she approached, and she embraced him, ignoring Amanvah’s hiss. ‘Rojer, that was incredible. Amazing.’

Rojer’s boyish smile threatened to take in his ears. ‘I couldn’t have done it without Amanvah and Sikvah.’

‘Indeed.’ Leesha nodded to the women. ‘You sounded like the Creator’s own seraphs.’ Both women’s eyes widened at the compliment, and Leesha turned her attention back to Rojer before they could recover.

‘Did Amanvah ward your fiddle?’

Rojer nodded. ‘Just the chinrest. The wards let me play loud enough to break the barn. And using it makes me feel …’

‘Energized?’ Leesha asked. ‘You should be half deaf after that.’

Rojer started, wiggling a finger in his ear. ‘Huh. Not even a ring.’

‘May I see?’ Leesha asked, her tone casual. Rojer unclipped the piece and handed it to her without a thought. Amanvah moved to stop him – too late. Leesha snatched it and took a quick step back. She unbuttoned a special pocket on her apron, slipping out the pair of gold-rimmed spectacles Arlen had made for her.

The lenses were not corrective, but wards in the frame and glass granted her the same wardsight Arlen used, letting her see the flow of magic. The chinrest was bright with power, its wards shining as if carved from lightning. She recognized almost all of them, wards of siphoning and linking, along with projection and … resonance.

‘There’s more here than just amplification, Rojer,’ she said. ‘There are resonance wards.’

Rojer looked at her blankly. ‘What does that mean?’

‘It means anything said near this fiddle will resonate somewhere else.’ Leesha turned to Amanvah. Several of the many piercings in her ear glowed bright with magic. ‘With an earring, perhaps?’

Amanvah kept her expression calm, but her hesitation betrayed her nevertheless. Rojer looked at his wife and his joyous expression fell into a stung look. ‘Is that how you knew what we said in the taproom?’

‘You were conspiring—’ Amanvah began.

‘Don’t hand me that demonshit!’ Rojer snapped. ‘You spent weeks making that chinrest. This wasn’t a reaction to anything I did on the road, it was your plan all along to spy on me.’

‘You are my husband,’ Amanvah said. ‘It is my duty to support you and keep you from trouble, sending aid when you are in need.’

‘Always lies with you!’ Rojer shouted. The
Sharum
stiffened at that – shouting at a
dama’ting
was an unthinkable crime, but they did not move to intercept as they might have before, still awestruck at Rojer’s power. Even Enkido hung back, waiting for a signal from his mistress.

‘You are so fast to quote the Evejah when it suits you,’ Rojer went on, ‘but does it not command truthfulness?’

‘Actually,’ Leesha cut in, ‘the book expressly states that oaths and promises to
chin
are meaningless if they in any way hinder service to Everam.’ Amanvah glared at her, but Leesha only smiled, daring her to contradict.

‘The Core with this,’ Rojer said, snatching the chinrest back from Leesha and lifting it high to hurl it down at the cobbles.

‘No!’ Amanvah and Leesha shouted at once, both reaching to grab his arm and forestall him. Amanvah looked at her curiously.

‘You saw the power it gave you,’ Leesha said. ‘Don’t throw that away in your anger.’

‘The mistress speaks truth, husband,’ Amanvah said. ‘It would be a month and more to make a new one, if we could even find a piece so fine to work with.’

Rojer looked at her coldly. ‘When you first gave me the box, I wondered if it might be a pair of golden shackles. Seems I wasn’t far off. I won’t be your slave, Amanvah.’

‘Are we slaves to fire because it can burn us?’ Leesha asked. ‘You are wise to its power now, Rojer. I can paint wards of silence on a box for it. Put it away when you want your privacy, but don’t destroy it.’

‘Throwing it to the stones would do little in any event,’ Amanvah added. ‘The magic strengthens the metal and wood. You will find it hard to destroy, and there is none other worthy of its power.’

Rojer seemed to deflate. He looked at the object sadly, then shoved it into a pocket and turned back to the inn. ‘I’m going to bed.’ He headed off without waiting to see if anyone followed. Amanvah and Sikvah heeled him like dogs, Enkido with them.

A few villagers had wandered out into the square to look in fascinated horror at the demon corpses, but a wind demon cry cut the night and sent them scurrying back inside. Leesha moved to do the same, though the wards on her shawl were enough to turn any coreling attention from her.

Before she went inside, she took one last look down the way to the Messenger road, where even now one of the
Sharum
raced back towards Everam’s Bounty.