Authors: Peter V. Brett
'What will you say to her'' Abban asked.
Jardir looked back at him. 'I have no idea,' he said honestly. 'But this is Everam's will, so I trust that whatever I say will be the right thing.'
Abban frowned. 'I do not think it works that way, Ahmann.'
Jardir looked at Abban, knowing all the words unspoken. Abban was much like the Par'chin in that regard. Polite. Tolerant. And utterly disbelieving.
Jardir looked at his old friend and felt great pity in his heart, understanding at last what it meant to be
khaffit.
Everam did not speak to them. Abban might use the Creator's name in every other sentence, but had never truly heard His voice or felt the rapture of submitting to His divine will. Only profit spoke to Abban, and he would ever be its slave.
But that, too, was part of Everam's plan, for the
khaffit
saw things no other man did, things essential to Jardir, if he was to win Sharak Ka.
Jardir put a hand on Abban's shoulder, smiling sadly. 'I know you do not, my friend, but if you do not trust in the Creator, hold faith in me.'
Abban bowed. 'Of course. But at the very least, avoid mention of your other wives. Her mother tells me that Mistress Leesha's jealousy is like a storm.'
Jardir nodded, not surprised in the least that such a woman would know her own worth and expect other women to make way for her. It only made him want her more.
Rojer led his apprentices through their exercises halfheartedly. They had improved a little, but whenever Kendall bent to her fiddle case, he could see the tops of the scars that ran across her chest. A mark of honor demon scars might be, but they were also a reminder to Rojer of just how far his apprentices had yet to come before they could be of any real use in the night. He hoped the instructors from the Jongleurs' Guild arrived soon.
Across the way, the Cutters trained in the Corelings' Graveyard. There was plenty of work to be done to build the new greatward, but so long as the Krasians were camped in the clearing, none of the Cutters had any interest in doing it. Gared had groups of them patrolling the town, and the rest had gathered at the graveyard to train and stand ready if needed. Leesha would be furious when she saw the work wasn't getting done, but even after all she had been through, Leesha was too trusting of people.
There was a shout, and Rojer looked up to see the Krasian leader approaching, followed by his two bodyguards, Hasik and Shanjat. They wore their spears and shields on their backs, but while Jardir looked relaxed and serene, the warriors had the look of men surrounded by enemies. Their hands flexed unconsciously for want of a spear.
Jardir headed toward Rojer, and Gared gave a shout as he and a few Cutters hurried to intercept. Jardir's bodyguards whirled to face them, spear and shield appearing in their hands instantly. The Cutters lifted their own weapons at the sight, and it seemed a clash was inevitable.
But Jardir turned, taking in Cutter and
Sharum
alike. 'We are guests of Mistress Leesha!' he cried. 'No blood will be shed between our peoples until she decrees otherwise.'
'Then tell your men to put their spears down,' Gared said, holding an axe in one hand and his warded blade in the other. Dozens of Cutters hurried across the graveyard and gathered at his back, but Hasik and Shanjat seemed unfazed'more than willing to fight the lot of them. Having seen the Krasian warriors fight, Rojer expected they would give far better than they got.
But then Jardir shouted something in Krasian, and his bodyguards sheathed their spears, though they kept their shields out.
'Din't say put 'em away, I said put 'em
down,
' Gared growled.
Jardir smiled. '
Guests
are not asked to leave their knives at the door, Gared, son of Steave.'
Gared opened his mouth to reply, but Rojer cut him off.
'Of course, you are correct,' he said loudly, looking at Gared. 'Put up your axe,' he told the giant Cutter.
Gared's eyes widened. It was the first time Rojer had ever publicly given Gared an order, and it was one the Cutter might well refuse to accept, for if he put up his weapon, every other Cutter would as well.
Their eyes met, and Gared challenged him in that look, but Rojer was a mummer, and his face easily imitated the harsh look of the Painted Man, his voice deepening to the rasp Arlen used to frighten people and distance himself from them.
'Ent gonna tell you again, Gared,' he said, and he felt it as the giant's will broke. Gared nodded and stepped back, returning his axe to its harness and his blade to its sheath. The other Cutters looked at him in surprise, but they did the same, taking comfort in their numbers.
Rojer turned to face Jardir. 'Is there something I can help you with''
'Indeed,' said Jardir, bowing. 'I wish to speak with Mistress Leesha.'
'She's not in town,' Rojer said.
'I see,' Jardir said. 'Can you tell me where I might find her''
'The Core we will!' Gared growled, but Rojer and Jardir both ignored him.
'Why'' Rojer asked.
'She has given me a gift of incredible value in the cloak,' Jardir said. 'I wish to bestow a gift of equal value upon her.'
'What gift'' Rojer asked.
Jardir smiled. 'That is a matter between Mistress Leesha and myself.'
Rojer considered him. Part of him screamed not to trust this smiling desert demon who had slaughtered and raped so many, but Jardir seemed to have his own code of honor, and he did not think the man would try to harm Leesha while the truce held. And if the gift he offered was truly magic of equal value, they might be fools to refuse it.
'I'll take you to her if you leave your warriors behind,' Rojer said.
Jardir bowed. 'Of course.' The guards gave a cry of protest, as did Gared and a few of the Cutters, but again Rojer and Jardir ignored them. 'My intentions toward Mistress Leesha are honorable, and I will of course accept a chaperone while in her presence.'
It seemed an odd choice of words, but Rojer could not find further cause to argue. Soon they were walking the path to Leesha's cottage. Gared insisted on coming along, and glared at Jardir the whole way, though the Krasian leader seemed thankfully oblivious.
'Why does the mistress not live on your village's wondrous greatward'' Jardir asked. 'I would think her too valuable to risk to the
alagai.
'
Rojer laughed. 'If all the Core rose up tonight, you'd be safer in Leesha's cottage than anywhere else in the world.'
Jardir found that hard to believe, but as they came close to the cottage, he found the path laid with a walkway of stone wards, each large enough to stand upon without marring it.
Jardir stopped short, looking at the stones in amazement. He squatted, pressing against the stone with his hand. 'Everam's beard. It must have taken a thousand slaves to carve these.'
'We ent a bunch of filthy desert slavers like you,' Gared muttered. Jardir's first impulse was to kill the man, but that was no way to impress the mistress. He embraced the insult instead and gave it no further thought, returning his focus to the path.
'The wards were poured, not carved,' Rojer said, 'made from a mixture of stone and water called crete, which hardens as it dries. Leesha cut them into the ground herself, and
free men
poured the stone.'
Jardir scanned the path ahead in amazement. 'These are combat wards. And linked.'
Rojer nodded. 'Any demon that sets foot on this path might as well step into a sunbeam.'
Jardir realized he had been arrogant and na've to scoff before. For all their savage ways, not even Sharik Hora held the power of some of the Northern woman's wardings.
The yard was no less stunning, filled with more crete walkways that wove a complex wardnet around the cottage and its environs. A large garden bloomed brightly, the herbs and flowers arranged in neat groupings, their lines forming yet more wards. Jardir couldn't recognize many of them, but he saw enough to know that these did far more than banish or kill corelings.
Stronger than ever, he felt Everam's will thrumming within him. This woman was destined to be his bride. With her and Inevera behind him, what in the world could he not accomplish'
Leesha listened to the comforting rhythm of Wonda chopping firewood as she prepared lunch. The simple task helped give her mind clarity as she went over the night's events and compared the men she had met with the tales of the refugees and Arlen's words of warning.
It was not that she did not trust the accounts, but Leesha preferred to form her own opinions. Many of the refugees spoke hearsay and exaggeration, and Arlen's heart could be hard and unforgiving at times. Something had happened to him in Krasia, some hurt done he could not forgive, but since he would not speak of it, Leesha could only guess as to what it was.
Whatever else might be true of the Krasians, they were warriors without equal. Leesha had seen that instantly as she watched them fight. The Cutters were generally larger and more heavily muscled, but they moved with none of the precision that marked the
dal'Sharum.
The fifty camped in the clearing could cut a swath of destruction across the Hollow before they were pulled down, and if the rest of Jardir's army had half their skill, the Hollowers would stand little chance against them, even with all the secrets of fire she could muster.
And so she had determined that they must not fight, if it could be avoided. It was one thing to kill demons, but every human life was precious. The books of the old world said mankind had once numbered in the billions, but how many remained after the Return' A quarter million' The thought of the last men in the world fighting one another sickened her.
Yet neither could she surrender. She would not spit on her hand and wet the Hollow for the Krasians. She had worked too hard to hold the Hollowers together after the flux to assimilate the refugees from Rizon and Lakton to just turn them over. If there was a way to negotiate a peace, she had to find it.
The first meeting with the Krasian leader had seemed to indicate that was a possibility. He was cultured and intelligent, nothing like the rabid animal the accounts had portrayed, and clearly held true to his beliefs, even if Leesha thought them brutal and cruel at times. She had looked deeply into his eyes, and there was no cruelty there. Like a stern father administering a needed spanking, Ahmann Jardir was doing what he thought best for humanity.
Leesha paused in her work, realizing that the chopping outside had stopped. She looked up as the door opened and Wonda stood in the threshold.
'Wash up and set the table,' Leesha said. 'Lunch will be another few minutes.'
'Beggin' your pardon, mistress, but Rojer and Gared are here to see you,' Wonda said.
'Tell them to come in and set another pair of places at the table,' Leesha said.
But Wonda just stood there. 'They're not alone.'
Leesha set her knife on the cutting board and toweled her hands clean as she went to the door. Ahmann Jardir stood on her front porch, standing calmly and ignoring the way Gared glared at him. He wore a fine white robe over his warrior blacks, matching the white turban his crown nestled within. Leesha's eyes danced across its wards, but she forced herself not to stare. She dropped her gaze to his eyes, but that was worse, for they bored into her with such intensity that she felt as if he could see her very soul.
Jardir bowed deeply. 'Forgive my appearing unannounced, mistress.'
'Just say the word and I'll haul him back where he came from, Leesha,' Gared said.
'Nonsense,' Leesha said. 'Welcome,' she told Jardir. 'Wonda and I were about to sit down to lunch. Would you care to join us''
'I would be honored and delighted,' Jardir said, bowing again. He followed Leesha into the cottage, pausing to remove his sandals and leave them by the door. Leesha noted that even his feet were covered in ward scars. A kick from him would likely do as much to a coreling as one by the Painted Man.
The meal Mistress Leesha had prepared was a meatless stew served with fresh bread and cheese. Jardir bowed his head as she invoked a blessing over the food, and then everyone began eating at once. He began to lift his bowl to drink when he noticed the greenlanders were leaving theirs on the table, using some sort of tool to bring the food to their lips.
He glanced at his own setting, and saw a similar utensil there'a wooden strip with a depression at the end. He looked at Leesha and mirrored her actions as he tasted the stew. It was delicious, with heavy vegetables he had never tasted. He began to eat more vigorously, using the thick greenland bread to soak the last drops from his bowl as he saw Gared and Wonda do.
'Exquisite,' he told the mistress, and felt a thrill run through him as he saw her pleasure at the compliment. 'We do not have such food in Krasia.'
Leesha smiled. 'There is much we could learn from each other, if we can find a way to live in peace.'
'Peace, mistress'' Jardir asked. 'There is no such thing on Ala. Not while the
alagai
hold the night and men cower before them.'
'So the tales are true'' Leesha asked. 'You mean to conquer us and levy our people for Sharak Ka''
'Why should I wish to conquer you'' Jardir asked. 'Your people are humble before the Creator, stand tall in the night, and shed blood in
alagai'sharak
alongside my warriors. That makes you Evejan, though you know it not.'