The Skull Throne (37 page)

Leesha stole a moment to boil a kettle and take it to the bathing chamber. She nibbled on a biscuit and stripped for a quick rag bath before changing into a fresh dress.

She took a deep breath. It would get easier soon. The flow of refugees continued, but the Hollow’s reach lengthened daily, now scooping folk still fresh on the road, with live animals and food on their backs. Several towns that had not yet broken were conducting organized evacuations under Cutter protection.

The Hollow would still need to absorb them, but it was more easily done when people came as settlers, with supplies and possessions in hand, rather than the first waves of exhausted folk, carrying nothing but their wounded.

Tonight, Leesha could afford to sleep. Perhaps. But already, young volunteers were gathering in her courtyard, being tested for strength and reflexes to serve as baselines and split into groups by her apprentices. The chatter of the assembled young Hollowers fell into an excited hush as Leesha and Wonda appeared at the door.

The volunteers were all in their late teens or early twenties, Hollowers who had volunteered to join the Cutters only to be turned away for one reason or another. One had trouble breathing. Another needed lenses to see. Others simply because they weren’t large or strong enough to keep up.

A growing class of
khaffit,
if we’re not careful,
Leesha thought.

“They’re staring at me,” Wonda said.

“Ay,” Leesha said. “See how it feels, for once. You might as well be the Warded Man to these children.”

“Don’t jest about the Deliverer,” Wonda said.

“We’re all Deliverers,” Leesha said. “His words. It’s your job to inspire these children, same as he did for you. World needs all the Deliverers it can get.”

“Why not ward the Cutters and
Sharum,
then?” Wonda asked. “Why only the rejects?”

“We’re still testing,” Leesha said. “We need a small group. A group we can control, to test the process before we try it on men the size of goldwood trees.”

There were three groups. Stela had made it into one. Her uncle Keet, only a couple of years her senior, another. None was the finest fruit the Hollow could provide in terms of warriors.

The first dozen, including her friend Brianne’s son Callen Cutter, would be given specially designed spears Leesha had warded personally. They had short shafts and long warded blades, designed to maximize the magic leached from the corelings and fed back into the wielder.

The second group would be given weapons that appeared identical to the first, but contained slivers of
hora,
coated in warded silver. The spears would hold some limited power in day as well as night, and recharge when spent.

Finally, Stela’s group, the most coveted of the three, would have blackstem wards painted on their skin, and study
sharusahk
with Wonda.

The testing would take months, but if Leesha’s hypotheses were right, they could have an army of Deliverers waiting in the Hollow the next time the demon princes came calling.

Her Warded Children.

“There, finished.” It was dark by the time Leesha painted the last ward on Stela’s skin. The others all waited with Wonda in the yard, marveling at warded weapons and skin. All knew that soon they would be going out into the night, a place many seasoned warriors had gone, never to return.

Excitement was building in the air. A chance to die, yes, but also a chance to avenge, to show the Hollow that they were to be counted. None of them could keep still, shifting from foot to foot or pacing the yard, waiting for Stela, that they might begin.

Leesha sent her off, watching the girl with her warded spectacles. The yard was awash with magic, only a fraction of it visible to the naked eye. Some wards were designed to glow, casting light in the yard, but others thrummed with power unseen by any without wardsight.

She saw the power draft to Stela’s ankles as it already had begun to do with the others. It danced up the blackstem wards on her legs, pulled along by the interlinked wards, swirling around her torso and out to her limbs and head like a heart pumping magic instead of blood. Just standing in the yard, the Warded Children would be feeling a tingle. At first it would feel like a strong stimulant tea, then an adrenaline rush. Soon after, their senses would expand, confusing them with every faint scent, every whisper heard from a mile away. It would be overwhelming until their thoughts sped as well.

Then they would begin to feel invincible.

“This here,” Wonda held up a long metal tube with braided steel rope extended in a loop at the end, “is a Krasian weapon called an
alagai
-catcher.” She whipped the loop over a hitching post in the yard, tightening it in an instant with a twist and pull. “Each of you go and take one. I set coreling traps in the Gatherers’ Wood. We’re going to use these to haul demons out so we can use ’em for practice.”

“Ay, just like that?” Keet asked. “We ent gonna, dunno, practice in the yard a bit before going into the naked night?” Others murmured their agreement.

Leesha kept the smile from her face. Naked night, indeed. Leesha had greatwards and warded paths throughout her land. The children might feel they were out with the demons, but in truth they would be in safe succor almost the entire time.

But it was important they get in contact with demons as soon as possible, and the feeling of constant danger would keep them respectful. This was no game.

It was like a dream, watching Wonda lead the children away. The world had become fuzzed at the edges. Her focus remained sharp, even after ten straight hours of warding. Pain in her temple throbbed and turned her stomach, but it was a near constant companion now, and she had learned to shut it out.

But as the last of the children vanished into the darkness at the edge of her wardsight, she began to fill the vacuum with images. Callen Cutter screaming for his mother as he slowly bled out from talon wounds. Brianne would never speak to her again. Nor Smitt, if anything should happen to Stela or Keet. An image flashed across her mind of a wood demon biting Stela’s head clean off. Her heart would still beat a few times before it her body realized it was dead. The blood would jet high into the air.

She shook herself out of the vision, rubbing her eyes. At last. At last she was free to sleep, lest she go insane. If Arlen, Ahmann, and Thamos all walked into her yard this instant and began fighting one another for her hand, she would still go to bed.

Her stride was strong as she headed for her cottage door, but her mind was already in its nightgown, blowing out the candles. Her bed would be warm and soft.

“Mistress Leesha!” the frantic call came from behind. Leesha didn’t recognize the voice, but the tone was clear. Having seen her, this was not someone who would stop until they spoke.

She took a deep breath, counting to five as her mind threw on a robe. Her countess smile was back in place as she turned to face the woman, recognizing her immediately from the hours she had spent at her daughter’s bedside in the hospit. Lusy Yarnballer. Kendall’s mother.

Yarnballer was not a proper surname, rather a jibe that had stuck when the spinner’s apprentice had never developed a skill with the spindle. Lusy was a sweet but altogether unremarkable woman who had somehow managed to produce an exceptional daughter.

“A bit late for a social call, Lusy,” she said.

Lusy dipped a curtsy. “Apologies, mistress. Wouldn’t have bothered you if it wern’t important.” She choked on a sob. “Just don’t know who else to turn to.”

Leesha’s mind shook off its robe and put a dress back on. Her sigh was invisible as she went over to the woman and took her in her arms. “There, child,” she said, though Lusy was years her senior. “It can’t be as bad as all that. Come inside and I’ll brew some tea.”

Lusy blubbered interminably in Leesha’s sitting room. Leesha sat in Bruna’s rocking chair, the old woman’s shawl wrapped around her. More than once her eyes slipped closed, and it was only the fall of her head as she drifted off that startled her awake.

At last, the mild sedative Leesha had put in the woman’s tea took effect, and she calmed.

“All right, Lusy,” she said. “I’ve enjoyed our visit, but it’s time we got to the point.”

Lusy nodded. “Sorry, mistress, I just don’t know—”

“—what to do. Yes, you’ve said,” Leesha’s patience was at an end. “About what?”

“About Kendall and those Krasian witches!” Lusy all but shrieked.

Leesha looked at her curiously. “Who? Amanvah and Sikvah?”

“Ay, you know what they did?” Lusy demanded.

“I’m sure I don’t,” Leesha said, though she had a sinking suspicion. “Why don’t you take another sip of tea, lower your voice, and start at the beginning.”

Lusy nodded, taking a noisy slurp from her cup and letting out a long shuddering breath. “They came to me this afternoon. Said they wanted to buy Kendall from me. Buy her! Like a ripping sheep!”

“Buy her?” Leesha asked, though she knew full well by now what the woman meant.

“As a whore for that coreson Rojer,” Lusy said. “Seems two wives ent enough of an abomination for him. Wants my sweet Kendall for his harem, too. Plans to breed her like a cow, to hear them put it.”

“The Krasians can be … indelicate in these matters,” Leesha said carefully. “Marriage is a contract to them, but when the negotiations are through they take their vows no less seriously than we. I am sure they meant no insult.”

“Like I give a demon’s shit what they meant,” Lusy said. “Told them Rojer could have Kendall over my dead body.”

Poor choice of words.
Leesha wouldn’t put it past Amanvah make it so.

“Them two harlots went off in a huff, acting like
I
was the one being rude,” Lusy continued. “Then not twenty minutes later, Kendall is in my face, cryin’ and screamin’, saying she’s marryin’ Rojer and that’s that. Told her no Tender would let her put hand to the Canon and vow to be a man’s third wife, and you know what she said?”

“Do tell,” Leesha sighed.

“Said she didn’t care. Said the Core with Canon and Tenders both. Said she’d make her oath on an Evejack—”

“Evejah,” Leesha corrected.

“Book of sin,” Lusy countered. “Kendall’s always had her eye on Rojer, but not like this. Girl’s got no sense! Bad enough them Krasian tramps witched poor Rojer off the Creator’s path, but I ent gonna let them take my daughter as well.”

“You may not have a choice,” Leesha said.

Lusy looked up at her, startled. “Night, mistress, you can’t possibly approve.”

“Of course not.” Leesha was already planning the scolding she was going to give Rojer. “But Kendall’s a grown woman with the right to choose her own path.”

“Don’t think you’d be so calm,” Lusy said, “it was your daughter being bid on like a laying hen.”

Leesha raised an eyebrow and Lusy started, suddenly remembering she was talking to the future Countess of the Hollow, a woman who had herself been the subject of Krasian bride bidding. She could not match Leesha’s stare and looked down, trying to bury her face in her teacup. She gulped too fast, and coughed. “Meant no offense, mistress. Course you understand.”

“I daresay I do,” Leesha said. “I will speak to Rojer and Amanvah as soon as possible, and summon you again when it’s done.”

“Thank you, mistress,” Lusy got to her feet, bowing awkwardly as she backed out of the room, turned, and scurried away.

“Are you out of your corespawned mind?” Leesha was already wearing Bruna’s shawl. Never a good sign.

Rojer exaggerated his sigh just a touch for effect, taking his time hanging his motley Cloak of Unsight by the door. Leesha’s face was ablaze, and it was always best to stall when she got this way. Leesha didn’t have the stamina to be unreasonable for long. Not with him, anyway.

He wondered how he had once been so intimidated by her. After dealing with Amanvah, Leesha Paper was a sunny stroll through town square.

He left his fiddle case by the door, shut tight to ward away Amanvah’s prying ears. He felt naked without his cloak and fiddle, but that was all the more reason to put them down now and again, lest they claim him completely.

Never let an act own you,
Arrick had said,
or it will be all you do for the rest of your life. Rather go to the Core than have to tell the same ripping jokes every night from now till I die.

Pointedly ignoring Leesha’s aggressive stance and tone, he made his way into the sitting room, taking his favorite chair. He put his feet up on the stool and waited. A moment later, Leesha huffed into the room and sat in Bruna’s chair. She did not offer tea.

Night, she must be furious,
Rojer thought.

“Lusy paid you a visit, ay?” He had assumed this was why Leesha sent word she wanted to see him in the middle of the night. Not that he slept much at night. Few Hollowers did, anymore. Wardlight lit the streets and paths, proof that all were safe from the corelings. People had taken to the new freedom with a vengeance, and now the streets were busy at all hours. Shamavah’s bazaar and Smitt’s General Store both kept night hours now.

“Course she did,” Leesha snapped. “Someone needed to talk some sense into you.”

“You’re my mother, then?” Rojer asked. “Your job to wipe my bottom when it’s dirty and smack it when I’m bad?” He stood up, pretending to fumble with his belt. “You want I should just lay over your knees and we can have done?”

Leesha put a hand up to shield her eyes, but her scowl had fallen away. “Rojer, you keep your pants on or I will give you such a dose of pepper!”

“These are my best pants!” Rojer said, aghast. “I hear you cut your switches fresh, mistress. Sap on silk is impossible to clean.”

“I’ve never switched anyone in my life!” Leesha was fighting a smile now.

“How is that my fault?” Rojer scratched his head. “I could give you pointers, I suppose, but it seems odd to teach someone how to switch you.”

Leesha choked on a laugh. “Corespawn it, Rojer, this isn’t a joke!”

“Ay,” Rojer agreed. “But neither is it a breach at new moon. No one’s bleeding and nothing’s on fire, so there’s no reason not to be civil. I’m your friend, Leesha, not your subject. I’ve shed as much blood for the Hollow as you have.”