The Skull Throne

by Peter V. Brett

  The resulting battle was fierce, but ultimately one-sided. Wood demons were wary of flame demons, but nevertheless killed them on sight. Flame demons could hurt them, even kill occasionally, but seldom before a wood demon crushed several of them.

  Then Sikvah began a counterpoint to Amanvah’s seduction, extending the song of unsight to cover their new allies. Woodies swung wildly, but the nimble flame demons danced around the lumbering blows, hawking great gobs of firespit. The spit stuck where it landed, burning with an intense flame that left Rojer seeing spots. He flexed his right hand, crippled where a flame demon had bitten off his index and middle fingers.

  Soon the last of the wood demons had collapsed, bright pyres that burned out into a charred and blackened remain.

  “Might as well have stepped into a sunbeam,” Kendall said, applauding.

  “Ay,” Rojer said loudly, “but like I told you, making demons fight each other is easy.” Of course, what his wives had done was far beyond that, but like Kendall, they were here to test their boundaries.

  Amanvah smiled at him, and Rojer knew his confidence was well placed. She touched her choker as she climbed octaves, the song that moments before had the flame demons dancing their victory becoming a lash that drove them north at a frantic run. There was a cold fishing pond barely a mile in that direction. His senses enhanced by the wardsight, Rojer heard the splashes as the flame demons leapt in, and saw the rising clouds of steam that marked their passing.

  There was a flash of magic above their heads, and Rojer looked up to see a wind demon plummet to the ground a few feet away, Coliv’s spear embedded in its chest. The spear survived the fall. The coreling did not.

  The Watcher bowed deeply. “You are all touched by Everam, it is true. But this will not save you, if you drop your guard. Everam has no time for fools who do not respect Nie’s might.”

  Rojer expected Amanvah to snap at his haughty tone. Instead, she gave a fraction of a bow. More than he had ever seen her give a mere warrior. “You speak wisdom, Watcher, and we hear.”

  Coliv bowed again. “I live to serve, Holy Daughter.”

  Leesha kept her door shut as she tackled the mounds of paper covering her desk. Outside, Wonda kept visitors away, even Jizell and Darsy. She was in no mood to see anyone.

  Wonda’s distinctive knock came at the door, and Leesha sighed, wondering who it was she thought urgent enough to disturb over. “Come in, dear.”

  Wonda poked her head in. “Sorry, mistress …”

  Leesha did not look up from her papers, pen scratching as she marked, signed, and annotated. “Unless someone’s dying, Wonda, I haven’t the time. Tell them to make an appointment.”

  “Ay, that’s just it,” Wonda said. “You asked me to get you at dusk. Supposed to test the Warded Children this evening.”

  “It can’t possibly be dusk already …” Leesha began, but looking through her window at the darkening sky, she realized it was true. Already her office so dim she was straining her eyes without realizing.

  Leesha looked at the barely dented pile of papers beside her and fought down the urge to weep. Dusk came earlier each day as they approached Solstice, making the tasks she need to accomplish seem that much more insurmountable. Night was a vise, crushing her. New moon in summer had nearly destroyed them. Hollowers died every minute, the entire county holding on for dawn’s succor and time to refortify. What would happen if the coreling princes returned when dark was half again as long, and daylight a scant few hours?

  “And Stela wrestled a rippin’ wood demon!” Wonda was saying as Leesha’s carriage made its way home. She and Wonda used to walk the mile from her cottage to the hospit, but now there was no peace for Leesha when she did. Too many well-wishers, petitioners, and would-be advisors.

  “Creator, you should have seen it.” Wonda went on. “Corespawn’s thrashing and kicking fit to tear itself in two, and there’s Stela on its back, calm as a tree, waiting patiently for her next hold. Broke its spine in two when she found it.”

  “Eh?” Leesha shook her head. “She did what?”

  “Ent heard a word I said the last ten minutes, have you?” Wonda asked.

  Leesha shook her head. “I’m sorry, dear.”

  Wonda squinted at her. “When’s the last time you slept, mistress?”

  Leesha shrugged. “A few hours last night.”

  “Three,” Wonda said. “Counted. Ent enough, mistress. You know it. ’Specially with you …”

  “With me what?” Leesha demanded. They were quite alone. Leesha had put sound-muffling wards in the carriage for privacy.

  Wonda paled. “With you … I mean …”

  “Out with it, Wonda,” Leesha snapped.

  “In a family way,” Wonda said at last.

  Leesha sighed. “Who told you?”

  Wonda looked at the carriage floor. “Mistress Jizell. Said you needed extra looking after, and were too stubborn to admit it.”

  Leesha puckered her lips. “She did, did she?”

  “Only trying to look out for you and the little one,” Wonda said. “Din’t know what it was, but I seen how sick you been since we left the south. It’s the demon’s heir, ent it?”

  “Wonda Cutter!” Leesha snapped, making the girl jump. “I don’t ever want to hear you call my child that again.”

  “Din’t mean …”

  Leesha crossed her arms. “You did.”

  Wonda looked like she might be sick. “Mistress, I …”

  “This once,” Leesha cut in when she hesitated, “I’ll let it pass. This once, for the love I bear you. But never again. When I want you or anyone else to know my business, I’ll tell you. In the meantime, I’ll thank you to keep your nose out of it.”

  Wonda nodded, her giant woman’s body shrunk back like the teenage girl she was inside. “Ay, mistress.”

  It was full dark by the time they returned to her cottage, but the yard was abustle with apprentices, Gatherers, and the mustering Warded Children. It was standing room only in the theater, where Vika was giving a lesson in warding Cloaks of Unsight. Leesha wanted every Gatherer and apprentice in the Hollow to have one before winter was out.

  Vika was seated beside the speaker’s podium, drawing wards onto vellum in the lens chamber. The mirrors and lenses bounced the image onto a white screen as hundreds of women copied the marks into their warding books.

  “Children are still gathering,” Wonda said, “and it’ll take Roni and the girls a while to set the weights and measures. Why not nap for a bit? I’ll come knock when we need you.”

  Leesha looked at her. “No scolding’s going to keep you from mothering me now, is it?”

  Wonda smiled helplessly. “Sorry, mistress. Ent like I can stop knowin’ something.”

  Leesha regretted the harsh tone she had used on the girl. Wonda might only be sixteen, but she carried an adult’s responsibilities with a grace few of any age could match. Leesha feared nothing when Wonda was watching over her.

  “I’m sorry I snapped at you, Wonda,” she said. “You’re only looking out for me, and I love you for it. You keep at it, even when I’m being …”

  “Stubborn as a rock demon?” Wonda supplied.

  Leesha laughed in spite of herself. “I’m straight to bed, Mum.”

  The way to the cottage door was clear when Wonda moved off to meet the children. They looked at her in wonder, crossing fists over hearts as they gave a sharusahk student’s bow. Many of them were older than she was, but nevertheless looked to her as their leader.

  Leesha quickened her pace, every step drawing her closer to a few stolen moments of peace. She would brew a tea to put her out, and have another ready to counter it when Wonda woke her. Dare she hope for four uninterrupted hours?

  “Leesha,” a voice came from behind her, “glad I caught you.”

  Leesha turned, putting a smile on her face that was indistinguishable from the real thing. It was Jizell, the last person in Thesa she wanted to see right now. A visit from Elona would
have been preferable.

  “Why aren’t you in Vika’s class?” Leesha said.

  “Time was, Vika was my student, not the other way around.” Jizell waved her hand. “Let the girls learn warding. I’m too old to put my apprentice apron back on.”

  “That’s enough of that,” Leesha snapped.

  Jizell started. “Eh?”

  “Did you not hear my speech?” Leesha pressed. “Or did you think you could ignore it because I was once your apprentice, too?”

  Jizell’s face hardened. “You’ve got stones to say that, girl, after all I’ve done for you. Been working my fingers to the bone since we came to the Hollow when I could’ve headed back to Angiers a moon ago.”

  “You have,” Leesha agreed. “So much that the other women look to you when I’m not around. And that is why you need to set a better example, for everyone’s sake. If you ignore me and skip warding class, what’s to stop every Gatherer above fifty from doing it?”

  “Not everyone needs to learn warding, Leesha,” Jizell snapped. “You’re asking too much of these women too quick. Piling books and rules on them without even checking to see if they have letters.”

  “No,” Leesha said. “You’re asking too little. I nearly died on the road from Angiers because I couldn’t ward so much as a circle of protection. I won’t see that happen to any Gatherer again, if I can help it. Every woman’s life is worth a few hours’ study.”

  “Won’t we all soon have Warded Children to protect us?” Jizell asked. “The gossips say that’s your master plan. A warded bodyguard for every Gatherer.”

  Leesha wanted to tear her hair. “Night, it’s just a ripping class! Stop undermining me and go!”

  Jizell put her hands on her hips. “Undermining? How in the Core have I been undermining?”

  “You argue requests that will save lives!” Leesha said. “You ignore rules I set. You act like I’m still your apprentice. Night, you even call me ‘girl’ in front of the other Gatherers!”

  Jizell looked surprised. “You know I don’t mean anything by that …”

  “I do,” Leesha said. “But the others don’t. It needs to stop.”

  Jizell gave a mocking curtsy, hurt clear in her voice. “Anything else you need to get off your paps, mistress?”

  Leesha wondered if things would ever be the same between them after this, but she had learned no good came from running away from problems. “You told Wonda I was pregnant.”

  Jizell only took a moment to answer, but the desperate search for a lie flashed across her aura so brightly Leesha would have seen it with her eyes closed. “Figured she must already know—”

  “Demonshit,” Leesha hissed. “You’re not some fool gossip, letting out scandals by accident. You told her because you wanted her mothering me.”

  “Ay, what if I did?” Jizell put fists on her hips. Leesha might be an adult now, but the woman still loomed over her. “You trust the girl with your life, but not your babe’s? You’re pushing all of us hard, Leesha, but yourself most of all. You’re a woman grown, ay, and can make that choice for yourself, but you’re making choices for two, and neither Wonda nor I is going to let you forget that. Keep arguing and I’ll tell Darsy, as well.”

  Leesha’s face heated. She loved Darsy like a sister, but the woman kept a Canon in the apron pocket over her heart. She wouldn’t even brew pomm tea for women. This … Leesha had no reason to think Darsy or many of the other Gatherers would stand by her if it was known she was carrying any child out of wedlock, much less Ahmann Jardir’s.

  And with that thought, Jizell started drifting away, blackness closing on Leesha’s vision. She felt herself falling, and the jolt as Jizell caught her, but they were distant things.

  “Mistress Leesha!” Wonda called, but she was miles away.

  Leesha woke in her own bed. She sat up, looking around the darkened room in confusion. It felt like there were weights on her eyelids.

  “Wonda?” she called.

  “Mistress Jizell!” Wonda rushed to her bedside. “Gave us all a scare, mistress.”

  Jizell appeared with a candle, squeezing Wonda aside. She lifted Leesha’s drooping eyelids with a firm but gentle grasp, holding the candle flame close to check dilation.

  “Everything’s sunny, Leesha,” Jizell said, caressing her cheek. “You go on back to sleep. Nothing happening that can’t wait until morning.”

  Leesha scraped her dry tongue around the inside of her mouth. “You gave me tampweed and skyflower.”

  Jizell nodded. “Sleep. Gatherer’s orders.”

  Leesha smiled, snuggling her head back into the pillow and letting blessed sleep claim her.

  When she awoke the next morning, Leesha felt stronger than she had in months. Her thoughts were still fogged from the sleeping draught, but it was nothing a good strong tea wouldn’t fix.

  Jizell was waiting as she shuffled out of her bedroom, clutching her shawl tight. Her mentor moved about Leesha’s kitchen as comfortably as she did her own. She pushed a steaming teacup into Leesha’s hand, deep black with a dollop of honey, like they had shared on countless mornings. “Bathwater’s hot. See to your privy and take a seat at the table. I’ll have breakfast ready before you know it.”

  Leesha nodded, but lingered. “I’m so sorry for what I said.”

  Jizell waved a hand. “You oughtn’t be. You were right about most of it. Could have been politer, but a pregnant woman who ent slept right in a month is apt to be prickly. Now go wash up.”

  By the time Leesha had finished her bath and tea, her thoughts were clear. She chose her favorite dress and sat to breakfast. As promised, Jizell had a steaming plate of eggs and vegetables waiting.

  “Examined you while you were out cold,” Jizell said. “Child’s heart thumps like a Cutter’s axe. Strong.” She pointed her fork at Leesha. “But you’re already starting to show. Thamos might not notice with his face buried in your paps, but the rest of the town will be happy to point it out to him, if they haven’t already. If you mean to tell him before someone else does, now’s the time.”

  Leesha kept her eyes on her food. Jizell, like most of the Hollowers, assumed the child belonged to Thamos. “I’ll speak to him. I have to tend the Royal Garden today anyway.”

  Jizell laughed. “That what you’ve been calling it? Good a name as any. You make sure that garden is good and tended before you tell him about the crop.”

  The carriage took Leesha and Wonda right up to the entrance to the Royal Garden. Some of the count’s men approached, but Wonda moved to intercept them as Leesha disappeared into the boughs. None save her would pass into the garden with Wonda at the gate.

  Her heart fluttered as she passed out of sight. Sneaking into Thamos’ Keep was ever a thrill. The fear of getting caught and the anticipation of sex was as strong as a bottle of couzi. But today was different. She would have him one last time as Jizell suggested, but as much for her as for him.

  Leesha had once dismissed Thamos as a spoiled fop, good for little more than violence and easily manipulated. But Thamos had proven her wrong again and again. He was not creative, handling things in a by-the-book military fashion, but he was known for his fairness, and folk knew where they stood with him. He never hesitated to use his royal advantages, but neither did he hesitate to stand before the least of his people when the corelings came.

  This visit might well end with their betrothal, and Leesha was surprised to find how badly she wanted that. The child would not come for half a year. Who could say what fate the Creator had in store between now and then?

  In moments Leesha was through the maze of hedges and slipped through the hidden door into the count’s manse. Tarisa was waiting, escorting her discreetly to a waiting room with another hidden door, leading directly to Thamos’ bedchamber.

  The count was waiting, taking her into his arms and kissing her deeply. “Are you all right, my love? There was word you fainted …”

  Leesha kissed him again. “It was nothing.” She let her hand
drift down, tugging at his belt. “We can steal an hour, at least, before Arther has the nerve to knock. You can take me twice, if you’re man enough.”

  Leesha knew the count was up to the task. Thamos fought demons most every night, and she had worked hora into his armor and spear. The count was taller now than when she’d met him, and his lust, formidable even then when roused, was doubled now. Since their first night together, there had been no hint of the performance anxiety that had robbed him of stiffness. Already, she could feel his breeches tightening.

  Surprisingly, Thamos pulled back, holding her arms at the elbow as he moved his manhood out of reach. “Nothing? You fell unconscious in front of half the Gatherers in the Hollow and it’s nothing?”

  Thamos waited for her response, the silence heavy between them. He squeezed her shoulders, putting a gentle finger under her chin to lift her eyes to meet his. “If you have something to tell me, Leesha Paper, now is the time.”

  He knows. Leesha wondered if it had been Tarisa who told him, but in truth it did not matter. “I’m pregnant.”

  “I knew it!” Thamos boomed, grabbing her. For a moment she thought it was an attack, but his crushing embrace only lasted an instant before he lifted her from her feet, swinging her around with a whoop of joy.

  “Thamos!” Leesha cried, and the count’s eyes widened.

  He put her down instantly, staring at her belly in concern. “Of course. The child. I hope I did not …”

  “It’s fine,” Leesha said, relief flooding her. “I’m just surprised to see you so pleased.”

  Thamos laughed. “Of course I am pleased! Now you will have to become my countess. The people will insist on it, and I would have it no other way.”

  “Are you certain of that?” Leesha asked.

  Thamos nodded eagerly. “I can’t do this without you, Leesha, nor you without me. The Warded Man may be gone, but together, we can drive back the corelings and rebuild the Hollow into one of the great cities of old.”

  Leesha could not deny the tingle his words brought to her. Her heart leapt into her throat as Thamos dropped to one knee, taking her hands in his. “Leesha Paper, I promise myself …”