The Skull Throne

by Peter V. Brett

  The moment the count dismissed them, Rojer was out of his chair, not wanting to spend a second longer in Jasin’s presence than necessary. He was moving for the door when Leesha’s voice checked him.

  “Will you join me for lunch, Rojer?”

  Rojer stopped and took a breath, turning back with a bright smile painted on his face as he gave his best court bow. “Of course, mistress.” He put out his arm and she took it, but she refused to pick up her stately pace however he tugged.

  They climbed into Leesha’s coach, Wonda taking seat next to the driver and leaving them alone in the carriage. The air was chill outside, winter threatening more with each day, but the inside of Leesha’s coach was warm. Still, he shivered.

  She knows, Rojer thought as she looked at him. Leesha had always known more than she should about most everything, her guesses almost as good as Amanvah’s dice at ferreting out information one would prefer to keep hidden. She’d always wondered what put him in her hospit, and set him running from Angiers the moment his bones had healed. Most likely she’d see the hate in his eyes and put the pieces together at last. In a moment she would ask, and perhaps it was time to give her the whole story. If anyone deserved it, it was Leesha Paper, who had stitched his broken body back together.

  Though many times since, he’d wished she’d let him die.

  Leesha took a deep breath. Here it comes, Rojer thought.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Rojer blinked. It was so easy to forget his wasn’t the only drama playing out. “I was wondering when you’d get around to telling me. Before the babe came, I’d hoped.”

  Now it was Leesha’s turn to blink. “Amanvah told you?”

  “Ent stupid, Leesha,” Rojer said. “Jongleurs hear every rumor in the Hollow. Think I’d miss that one? Once it was in my head, the signs were everywhere. You’re pale and never so much as look at food in the morning. Always touching your stomach. Scolding every servant that brings you meat that hasn’t been cooked to ripping char. And mood swings. Night, I thought you were dramatic before.”

  Leesha’s mouth was a tight line. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Waiting for you to trust me,” Rojer said, “but I guess you don’t.”

  “I’m trusting you now,” Leesha said.

  Rojer gave her a tolerant look. “You’re trusting me now because half the town already knows, and you don’t think you can keep a lid on the pot much longer. Night, even Amanvah knew! Had to act all surprised when she told me.”

  “You lied to your wife for me?” Leesha asked.

  Rojer crossed his arms. “Course I did. Whose side do you think I’m on? I love Amanvah and Sikvah, but I’m not a ripping traitor. You’ve waited to the last corespawned minute to trust me, when I could have been helping you all along. Could’ve made you a ripping folk hero by now for carrying the heir to the Krasian throne. Instead, you’ve got everyone thinking it’s the ivy throne’s heir you’re carrying. Do you know what the Rhinebeck family will do to you when they find out they’ve been played? To the child?”

  “We’ll soon find out,” Leesha said. “I told Thamos the truth.”

  “Night,” Rojer said. “That would explain how he’s been acting. Was hoping it was just that Royals hate a crank bow wedding.”

  “I hurt him, Rojer,” Leesha said. “He’s a good man, and I’ve broken his heart.”

  Rojer almost choked. “That’s what you’re worried over? All the Core about to break loose around you, and you’re worried about Thamos’ feelings?”

  Leesha pulled Bruna’s shawl off the seat next to her, pulling it tightly around her like a Cloak of Unsight. “I’m worried about everything, Rojer. Myself, my baby, the Hollow. It’s too much, and I don’t know what to do anymore. I just know I can’t keep lying. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I should have come to you sooner, but I was ashamed.”

  Rojer sighed. “Don’t add my guilt to your pile of worries. I’ve kept some important things from you, too.”

  Leesha looked up at him, and her tone sharpened like a mother who’d just heard a crash in the next room. “What things?”

  “The night we met,” Rojer said. “When Jaycob and I were brought to the hospit.”

  Leesha’s face softened immediately. She and Jizell had spent hours cutting, stitching, and casting him back together that night. And he was the lucky one.

  “It was Jasin Goldentone,” Rojer said. “Wasn’t royal herald then, just a pompous ass whose nose I broke in a fight. He and his apprentices started following me and Jaycob, watching our performances, and then, one night, they caught us alone. Beat Jaycob to death and made me watch before trying to do the same to me. Just a lucky break the watch came by in time.”

  Leesha scowled. “We can’t let that lie, Rojer.”

  Rojer laughed. “That’s what Gared said.”

  “You told Gared before me?” Leesha almost shrieked.

  Rojer stared at her until she had the decency to drop her eyes. “I’ll go to Thamos,” she said at last. “I am a witness to the event. He’ll have to listen.”

  Rojer shook his head. “You’ll do no such thing. I doubt Thamos is in a mood to do either of us the slightest favor right now, and you’re asking for the mother of all boons.”

  “Why?” Leesha demanded. “Why is putting a murderer in prison such a great boon?”

  “Because Jasin Goldentone is First Minister Janson’s nephew,” Rojer said. “His signature is on the payroll of every magistrate in the city, and the royal family couldn’t find their stockings without him. You might as well accuse Rhinebeck himself. And with what proof? The only witness was me. With a snap of his ripping fingers, Jasin can have a thousand swear he was elsewhere on whatever night it was.”

  “So you’re just going to let it go?” Leesha asked. “That’s not like you, Rojer.”

  “Ent letting anything go,” Rojer said. “Just saying Thamos ent our ally here.”

  He chuckled. “Used to imagine I might get Arlen to throw him off a cliff. You can get away with things like that when folk think you’re the Deliverer.”

  “Killing someone is never the answer,” Leesha said.

  Rojer rolled his eyes. “In any event, secret’s best kept, for now. So long as we do nothing, Goldentone’s got to worry about what we might. Once there’s a move, he can counter.”

  “If he’s so untouchable, what’s he worried about?” Leesha asked.

  “He’s not worried about punishment,” Rojer said. “But even he doesn’t want to cross the Jongleurs’ Guild and Guildmaster Cholls. Cholls saw me hit Jasin, and heard his threats. He’s the only one whose word might stand.”

  Leesha sighed. “This is going to be an interesting trip.”

  “That’s undersaid.” Rojer took out his trusted flask, shaking it. Not a drop left. “Got anything back at your cottage stronger than tea?”

  CHAPTER 18

  A WHISPER OF NIGHT

  333 AR WINTER

  The envelope was fine paper, sealed with wax and stamped with Araine’s crest, but the note within was surprisingly informal, written in the Duchess Mum’s own hand. Leesha could almost hear the old woman’s voice as she read it:

  L—

  The problem we discussed upon your last visit persists. This business in Lakton makes it all the more urgent. The Royal Gatherer has all but given up. Your expertise is required.

  It isn’t just Ward Witch the peasants are calling you now, did you know? Leesha Paper, neo-countess of the Hollow. Your name is expanding. Something else to discuss while you’re with us.

  —A

  Expanding. The word was like a stone, weighing the paper down. Araine knew about the child. But how much did she know? What had Thamos told her?

  Regardless, the tone of the letter was clear. Thamos and the others might have a brief stay in Angiers, but Leesha would not be coming home anytime soon. Not if she needed to ensure a royal heir before the Krasians found a way to strike at Lakton proper.

  On
ce the city on the lake was conquered, there would be nothing to stop the Krasians turning their attention to the north. But Euchor of Miln, secure in his mountains, would not join his forces with Angiers so long as he thought he could use the threat to leverage his own issue onto the throne.

  Leesha passed the paper wordlessly to Jizell, who read it with a frown.

  She shook her head. “You can’t go. They’ll keep you locked in the palace until the child is born.”

  “I don’t see what choice I have,” Leesha said.

  “You’re too ill to travel,” Jizell said.

  “I fainted from stress and exhaustion a fortnight ago,” Leesha said. “I’m not an invalid.”

  Jizell shrugged. “I’m your Gatherer, and I say otherwise. Send me in your stead. I am Bruna-trained, too. There’s nothing you can do for the duke that I can’t.”

  Leesha shook her head. “It’s not just a matter of skill. It’s one of access. Rhinebeck won’t even admit he has a problem. Araine needs someone she can hide in plain sight at court. If I need to operate, a Royal Gatherer and potential member of the family is the only one with a chance of being trusted to put the duke under the knife.” She left unsaid that Jizell had consulted her on complicated fertility matters far more often than the reverse.

  Jizell raised an eyebrow. “You’ll be lucky if the count keeps you on as his Royal Gatherer, much less promises you now.”

  Leesha nodded, biting the inside of her mouth to keep the wave of emotion the words brought from overcoming her. “Ay, but Araine may not know yet that the child isn’t his. In any event, she’s canny enough to keep that secret until she has what she needs from me.”

  I hope.

  “I’m sorry, Stela,” Leesha said. “I’ve been ordered to Angiers by the duke himself.”

  “But mistress, the blackstem will fade in just a few days.” The panic in the girl’s eyes was worrisome.

  “We’ll take up the experiments again when I get back, honest word,” Leesha said.

  “But the others get to keep their weapons when you go,” Stela protested. “They can still fight. It’s the rest of us that have to go back to being nothing.”

  “You’re hardly nothing, Stela,” Leesha said, but the girl wasn’t listening. Stela shifted from foot to foot, scratching at the blackstem wards on her skin. She stood in the shadows away from the window, trying to hold the power just a little bit longer, but even the ambient light in the room was enough to slowly leach the magic from her.

  The others whose skin Leesha had warded were much the same. They had taken to dressing in plain robes, much as Arlen had when she first met him, with long wide sleeves and deep hoods, shading the wards from the light. Many would hide in darkened cellars and barns during the day, stealing a few hours of fitful sleep rather than go back to mortal strength. Wonda flushed them out into the light when she could, but she couldn’t be everywhere.

  There were other problems with the blackstem-warded children as well. Domestic violence on the rise. Stefny had related an argument with the normally passive Stela where she had punched her fist down on a heavy table, cracking it in half. Ella Cutter had struck her boyfriend when she caught him talking to another girl, cracking his jaw. Jas Fisher might have been justified in protecting his mother from his abusive father, but he had nearly killed the man. Leesha had been forced to use precious hora just to save his life, and even now it was unclear if he would ever walk again.

  Perhaps it was best to let them have a few weeks to cool down before something truly terrible happened.

  “Can I come with you?” Stela asked hopefully. “A guard on your trip north?”

  Leesha shook her head. “Thank you, child, but I will have an escort of Cutters and Wooden Soldiers as well as Wonda to see to my protection.”

  “You could tattoo …” Stela began.

  “No,” Leesha said firmly. “We don’t know what that would do to you.”

  “Course we do!” Stela snapped. “I’d be like Renna Bales, who held back the demons when the Deliverer fell.”

  “Absolutely not,” Leesha said. Stela clenched a fist, and Leesha moved her hand away from her teacup to the pocket of blinding powder in her apron.

  Wonda was faster, between them before Leesha realized she’d moved. She raised her own balled fist, twice the size of Stela’s. “Ya want to open that hand, girl, and apologize to Mistress Leesha.”

  They locked stares, and Leesha worried for a moment that Wonda was only making things worse. Magic heightened the impulse to fight, even against unlikely odds, and Stela was still holding enough to be a problem.

  But the girl remembered herself, stepping back and opening her hands, bowing deeply. “Sorry, mistress. I just …”

  “I understand,” Leesha said. “The magic makes a spark of anger into a flame, and a flame into demonfire. All the more reason you and the others take some time off.”

  “But what if the mind demons come back at new moon with you away?” Stela pressed. “Hollow’ll need every hand.”

  “I should be back by then,” Leesha lied. “And the mind demons were scattered in their last assault. They’ll be back, but not soon, I think.”

  “Could you at least paint me fresh?” Stela begged, holding up her arm, the once dark stains of the blackstem faded to a light brown. “These ent gonna last but another few days.”

  Leesha shook her head. “I’m sorry, Stela. I haven’t the time. You’ll just have to make do without for a fortnight.”

  The girl looked like she had been asked to make do without her arms, but she nodded sadly and allowed Wonda to lead her out.

  “Stela’s a good kid,” Wonda said when she returned, though they were the same age. “Understand how she feels. Couldn’t you … ?”

  “No, Wonda,” Leesha said. “I’m starting to wonder if this whole experiment was a mistake, and I’m not about to leave it running while I’m away.”

  There was a knock at the door, and Wonda moved to answer. Leesha rubbed at her left temple, trying to massage the pain from her head. There were teas that could numb the sensation, but they left her dizzy and unable to think clearly. Worse, she worried over the effect they would have on her child.

  The one cure that always helped was beyond her. Thamos hadn’t touched her in weeks, and her own ministrations failed to have the same effect. She would just have to get used to the pain.

  But then her mother entered, and it got worse.

  “What’s this about the duchess throwing Gared a ball?” Elona demanded. “Parading every half-bloomed flower in Angiers for him to sniff and pluck?”

  “Good to see you, too, Mother.” Leesha looked to Wonda. “Be a dear and make sure Stela and the other Warded Children stand in a sunbeam.”

  “Yes mistress.” Like most everyone, Wonda was all too happy to disappear when Elona Paper came to call.

  Leesha poured a cup of tea for her mother. “You make it sound like Duchess Araine is taking him to a brothel.”

  “Ent much difference from where I sit,” Elona said, taking the tea.

  “For as long as I can remember you’ve tried to push Gared Cutter into my arms,” Leesha said. “Now he’s got good prospects for the first time in more than a decade, and you want him a bachelor forever?”

  “He was with you, I could keep an eye on him.” Elona winked. “And if you weren’t taking care of him, make sure I was first in line to keep his seedpods empty.”

  The pain in her eye flared, and Leesha thought she might slosh up. “You really are a horrid person, Mother.”

  Elona snorted. “Don’t play the innocent with me, girl. You’re no better.”

  “The Core I’m not,” Leesha said.

  “Demonshit,” Elona said. “You look me in the eye and speak honest word that you didn’t get a thrill, sticking the demon of the desert behind Inevera’s back.”

  Leesha blinked. “That’s different.”

  Elona cackled. “Keep telling yourself that, girl. Ent gonna make it any more tr
ue.”

  The demon was trying to claw its way out of her eye again. “What do you want, Mother?”

  “To come to Angiers,” Elona said.

  Leesha shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

  “You need me,” Elona said.

  Now it was Leesha’s turn to cackle. It sounded disturbingly like her mother’s. “Why? Are you a diplomat now?”

  “Duchess Mum’s going to try to marry you off to the count,” Elona said. “You need someone to make the arrangements.”

  “These aren’t Krasians,” Leesha said. “I can speak for myself. You just want a last chance to try and stick Gared on the road, and to hiss like a cat at the ladies on his dance card.”

  Elona looked ready to spit. “Those pampered court girls won’t be able to handle him, anyway. Cutter baby would split some royal skink like a log, if that tree in Gared’s pants don’t do it putting the little brat in her.”

  Leesha put her cup down, getting to her feet. “I don’t have time to listen to your filth, Mother. You’re not coming. You can see yourself out.”

  “I have to remind you I might be carrying Gared’s child?” Elona asked. “Ent showing as much as you, but I’m straining my stitches already.”

  “All the more reason you let him go,” Leesha said. “What’s the alternative? Divorce da and marry Gared? You think the Inquisitor would bless such a union? The count? The Duchess Mum?”

  Elona had no ready reply, and Leesha pressed the attack. “You think Gared will still love you if you cost him his title? Night, do you think he loves you now? The only reason he ever touched you was because you looked like me.”

  “That ent—” Elona began.

  “It is,” Leesha cut her off. “Told me himself. You were just an old rag to jerk his cock into while he thought of me.”

  Elona stared at her, eyes wide, and Leesha knew she’d taken it too far. Her mother never failed to bring out the worst in her.

  The silence hung in the air a moment, then Elona stood, brushing off her skirts. “You say I’m horrid, girl, but you can be mean as a demon when you want to.”

  Leesha watched sadly from the window of her coach as the Hollow passed by. It was foolishness, surely, that she felt she might be seeing it for the last time.