Authors: Peter V. Brett
'Like I'm safe here'' Renna asked. 'Even if they don't stake me again soon as you leave, who I got to turn to now' Who, that wern't willing to stand by and watch me get cored''
He looked at her a long time, trying to find the words to refuse her. The Fishers were no different from any bullies'he would cow them come nightfall, if he hadn't already. Renna would be safe in the Brook. She deserved to be safe.
But was simple safety enough' It wasn't for him, so who was he to say it was for her' He 'd always looked with derision on those who spent their lives in fear of the night.
Being around Renna was like salt in the wound, a reminder of everything he had given up when he began warding his flesh. It was hard enough around those who never knew him before. Renna made him feel like he was still eleven years old.
But she needed him, and that kept the call of the Core away. Today was the first dawn he had looked forward to since Miln. In his heart, the Painted Man knew he would never survive if he tried to enter the demon world, but seeing his own people put Renna out at night made him want to leave humanity behind forever. If he left Tibbet's Brook alone, he might.
'All right,' he said at last, 'so long as you keep the pace. You slow me down, and I'll leave you at the first town we come to.'
Renna looked around the barn, spotting a beam of sunlight streaming in through the hayloft doors above. She stepped carefully into the sunlight and met his eyes. 'I ent gonna slow you,' she promised, drawing Harl's knife, 'sun as my witness.'
'You clutch that knife like it could help you against a coreling,' the Painted Man said. 'Let me ward it for you.' Renna blinked, looking at the knife, then held it out. He reached for it, but she drew it back suddenly, clutching it protectively.
'Knife's one of the only things in the world that's mine,' she said. 'Like to ward it myself, if you'll teach me.'
The Painted Man looked at her doubtfully, remembering her poor warding when they were children. Renna noted the look and scowled.
'I ent nine years old anymore, Arlen Bales,' she snapped. 'Been warding my property nigh ten years now and ent no demon ever got past, so you quit looking down. Reckon I can draw a ripping circle or a heat ward good as you.'
Shocked, the Painted Man shook his head to clear it. 'Sorry. The Warders in the Free Cities treated me the same way when I left the Brook. Forgot how insulting it was.'
Renna went over to where his gear was stored, pulling a warded knife from a sheath on his saddle. 'Here,' she said, coming over to him. 'What's this'un do'' She pointed to the single ward at the tip. 'And why's the rest of the edge just a repeat of this other ward, only rotated' How's it form a net without connectors'' She turned the weapon over in her hands, running her finger over the dozens of wards on the flat.
The Painted Man pointed to the tip. 'This is a piercing ward, to break the armor. Those on the side are cutting wards, to let the blade slide in once the armor is broken. Cutting wards are self-linking, if you rotate them proper.'
Renna nodded, her eyes dancing along the lines. 'And these'' She pointed to the symbols inside the cutting edge.
After supper, Jeph hitched his cart, and the whole family climbed in to head to Town Square. Renna rode with the Painted Man, seated behind him on Twilight Dancer.
They arrived scant minutes before sunset. If the square had been packed the day before, it was near bursting now. Every borough of Tibbet's Brook was represented in full, man, woman, and child. They filled the street and most of the square, more than a thousand souls in all, succored only by hastily hauled and painted wardstones.
Everyone looked up when they rode in, ignoring Jeph's family entirely as they stared at the hooded stranger on his enormous warded stallion, and the girl who rode behind him. The crowd parted as the Painted Man rode through to the center of the square, turning Twilight Dancer back and forth a few times so all could see them. He reached up and pulled his hood down, drawing a collective gasp from the crowd.
'I came from the Free Cities to teach the good people of Tibbet's Brook to kill demons!' he shouted. 'But so far, I've seen no 'good people.' Good people do not feed helpless girls to the corelings! Good people do not stand by while someone is cored!' As he spoke, he continued to turn his horse back and forth, meeting as many eyes as possible.
'She wern't no helpless girl, Messenger!' Raddock Lawry shouted, coming to the fore of those from Fishing Hole. 'She's a cold killer, and the council voted to have her staked for it.'
'Ay, they did,' the Painted Man agreed loudly. 'And none stood up against them for it.'
'Folk trust in their Speakers,' Raddock said.
'That true'' the Painted Man asked the crowd at large. 'You folk trust your Speakers''
There was a chorus of passionate
Ays
from every section. The folk of Tibbet's Brook were proud of their boroughs and the surnames they shared.
The Painted Man nodded. 'Then I reckon it's your Speakers I'll test.' He leapt down from the horse and, from the harnesses on Twilight Dancer's saddle, selected ten light spears he stuck point-down to stand quivering in the dirt.
'Every man or woman of the town council who stands with me and fights tonight, or their heir if they're killed, will get a battle-warded spear,' he said, raising one of the weapons, 'and the secrets of combat warding, so they can make their own.'
There was a shocked silence as everyone looked to their Speaker.
'Kin we have some time to think on it'' Mack Pasture asked. 'Don't care to be hasty.'
'Of course,' the Painted Man said, looking at the sky. 'I'd say you have'ten minutes. By this time tomorrow, I intend to be back on the road to the Free Cities.'
Selia Barren came out of the crowd. 'You expect us, the Brook's elders, to stand in the naked night with naught but them spears''
The Painted Man looked at her, still tall and intimidating after all these years. She 'd switched his backside more than once, and always for his own good. The idea of standing up to Selia Barren was more alien to him than staring down a rock demon, but this time it was her that needed a switching.
'It's a sight more'n you gave Renna Tanner,' he said.
'Not all of us voted her out, Messenger,' Selia said.
The Painted Man shrugged. 'You let it happen, all the same.'
'Ent no one above the law,' Selia said. 'When the council voted, we had to put the town first, no matter how we felt.'
The Painted Man spat at her feet. 'The Core with your law, if it says to throw your neighbor to the night! You want to put town first, come out here and show you can get as you give. Elsewise, I'll take my spears and go.'
Selia's eyes narrowed, and then she picked up her skirts, striding firmly into the square. There were gasps of shock from all sides, but Selia ignored them, taking up one of the spears. She was followed immediately by Tender Harral and Brine Broadshoulders. The giant Cutter took up his spear with a hungry look in his eyes. The Squares and Cutters gave a cheer.
'Anyone else have a question'' the Painted Man asked, looking around. As a boy in Tibbet's Brook, he'd had no voice, but now he finally meant to speak his mind. The crowd had suddenly become animated, but he picked the Speakers out easily, islands in the brook.
'Reckon I do,' Jeorje Watch said.
The Painted Man faced him. 'Ask, and I'll answer with honest word.'
'How are we to know you're really the Deliverer'' Jeorje asked.
'Like I said, Tender,' the Painted Man said, 'I ent. Just a Messenger.'
'The Messenger of whom'' Jeorje asked.
The Painted Man hesitated, seeing the trap. If he said no one, many would assume it was because he was a Messenger of the Creator. His best choice would be to name Euchor as his patron. Tibbet's Brook was technically part of Miln, and the people would assume the combat wards were a gift of his. But he had promised to speak honest word.
'No patron for this message,' he admitted. 'Found the wards in a ruin of the old world, and took it upon myself to spread them to all good folk, so we can start fighting back.'
'The Plague cannot end without the coming of the Deliverer,' Jeorje said, as if the Painted Man were caught in a logic trap.
But the Painted Man simply shrugged, handing Jeorje a warded spear. 'Could be it's you. Kill a demon and find out.'
Jeorje dropped his walking stick and took the weapon, a hard glint in his eyes.
'Seen a hundred years and more of the Plague,' he said. 'Seen everyone I know pass on, even my own grandkin. Always wondered why it was, Creator kept me alive so long when he called so many others to his side. Reckon it was on account of me having something left to do.'
'They say in Fort Krasia that a man can't get to Heaven, 'less he takes a coreling with him,' the Painted Man said.
Jeorje nodded. 'Wise folk.' He went to stand beside Selia, and the Watches all drew wards in the air as he passed.
Rusco Hog stomped into the square next, rolling his sleeves up thick and meaty arms. He grabbed a spear of his own.
'Da, what are you doing'' his daughter Catrin cried, running out to grasp his arm.
'Use your head, girl!' Hog snapped. 'Anyone selling warded weapons is gonna make a fortune!' He yanked his arm away and went to stand by the other Speakers.
There was movement from the Marsh contingent, where Coran Marsh sat in a hard-back chair. 'My da can't even stand without his cane,' Keven Marsh called. 'Let me fight for him.'
The Painted Man shook his head. 'Spear's as good a cane as any for a man thinks he can sit in council and play Creator.' The Marshes began to shake their fists and shout angrily at him, but the Painted Man ignored them, keeping his eyes on Coran, daring him to step forward. The aged Marsh Speaker scowled, but he stood up from his chair and hobbled slowly over to take a spear. He left his cane on the ground beside Jeorje 's walking stick.
The Painted Man's eyes came to Meada Boggin as she broke an embrace with her son and strode out of the cluster from Boggin's Hill. She looked to Coline as she passed, but the Herb Gatherer shook her head. 'I got sick to tend,' she said, 'not to mention any of you lucky enough to make it back out of there.'
Mack Pasture shook his head as well. 'Ent fool enough to step over them wards,' he said. 'Got folk and livestock dependin' on me. Din't come here to be cored.' He stepped back, and there was a roar of discontent from Baleses and Pastures alike.
'Let us call a new Speaker, if this one ent got the sack!' someone cried.
'Why should I'' the Painted Man shot back at them. 'None of you had the sack to stand up for Renna Tanner!'
'That ent true!' Renna called, and the Painted Man turned to her in surprise. She met his eyes with a hard look. 'Jeph Bales stood in front of a flame demon for me not five nights hence.'
All eyes turned to Jeph, who shrank under the glare. The Painted Man felt like Renna had kicked him in the teeth, but his father was under the test now, and he wanted to know the result more than any.
'That honest word, Bales'' he asked. 'You fight a demon in your yard''
Jeph looked at the ground a long time, then glanced to his children. He seemed to draw strength from the sight, and his back straightened. 'Ay.'
The Painted Man looked to the Baleses and Pastures, farmers and shepherds from every end of the Brook. 'You make Jeph Bales Speaker before sundown, and I'll let him stand.'
The roar of approval was immediate, and Norine gave Jeph a shove to get him walking. The Painted Man turned at last to Raddock Lawry.
'Ent no proof them spears even work!' Lawry shouted.
The Painted Man shrugged. 'You come out on trust, or you don't come out.'
'Don't know you, Messenger,' Lawry said. 'Don't know where yer from or what you believe. Don't know nothin' but what you say, and what you say is Fishers get no justice!' Many of the Fishers nodded and grunted their agreement.
'So you'll forgive me,' Raddock went on, striding into the square and looking out at not just the Fishers, but other Brook folk as well, 'if I don't entirely trust your word.'
The Painted Man nodded. 'I forgive you.' He pointed to the mist beginning to rise at the Speaker's feet. 'Now I'd advise you either pick up a spear or head back to your wards.'
Raddock Lawry made a most undignified sound and scampered back to the Fishers' wards as fast as his old legs would carry him.
The Painted Man turned to regard the Speakers who had stepped forward. They gripped their spears awkwardly, used to holding tools and not weapons, but there was a surprising lack of fear. Except for Jeph who looked white as a snow demon's scales, they seemed at peace. Speakers didn't question decisions once they were made.
'The demons are most vulnerable now, when they are half formed,' the Painted Man said. 'If you are quick''
Before he even finished speaking, Hog grunted, striding over to a solidifying wood demon. The Painted Man remembered the summer solstice festivals each year from when he was a boy. Hog would have whole pigs on great spits he paid the children to turn over the fire. He lifted his spear and stuck it in the coreling's chest with the same calm efficiency he used to skewer those pigs.