Demon Cycle 04 - The Skull Throne

by Peter V. Brett

  “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.”

  Leesha sighed. “You’re right of course. I’m sorry, Rojer.”

  “Ay,” Rojer’s eyes grew wide as saucers, “did Leesha Paper just admit she was wrong?”

  Leesha snorted as she got up. “Something to
tell your grandchildren about. I’ll make tea.”

  Rojer followed her to the kitchen, fetching the cups as she put the kettle on the fire. He kept his in hand. Mistress Jessa—madam of Duke Rhinebeck’s brothel, where Rojer had spent much of his formative years—taught him never to trust an Herb Gatherer not to put something in your tea.

  Even me, Rojer, Jessa said with a wink. Night, especially me.

  Leesha put her hand on her hip, leaning against the counter while they waited for the kettle to boil. “You can’t have expected everyone to think it sunny, taking Kendall as your third wife. Two isn’t enough for you? Night, she’s only sixteen!”

  Rojer rolled his eyes. “A whole two years younger than me. The demon of the desert has, what, a dozen years on you? At least Kendall isn’t trying to enslave everyone south of the Hollow.”

  Leesha crossed her arms, a sign Rojer was getting to her. “Ahmann is gone, Rojer. He had nothing to do with this attack.”

  “Open your eyes, Leesha,” Rojer said. “Just because a man curls your toes doesn’t make him the Deliverer.”

  “Ay, you should talk!” Leesha snapped. “Not a season ago, your precious little wives tried to poison me, Rojer. But they emptied your seedpods, so you went and married them anyway, no matter what I thought.”

  Rojer’s instinct was to snap back, but Leesha Paper was stubborn as a rock demon if you tried to lock horns with her. He kept his voice calm and quiet. “I did. I ignored your advice and did what felt right. And you know what? I’ve no regrets. Don’t need your permission to marry Kendall, either.”

  “You need a Tender’s,” Leesha said. “It’ll be easier to find a snowball in the Core.”

  “Tenders’ words don’t mean a corespawned thing to me, Leesha,” Rojer said. “Never have. Hayes wouldn’t recognize Sikvah, either. You think we lose any sleep on it?”

  “And Lusy?” Leesha asked. “You plan to ignore her, as well?”

  Rojer shrugged. “That’s Kendall’s worry. She’s old enough to promise whether her mum likes it or not. Just as well she disapproves. Less chance she’ll want to move in with us.”

  “So you’re going through with it?” Leesha asked. “You used to say marriage was a fool’s game. Now you go and do it every time I turn ’round.”

  Rojer chuckled. “Tried to talk to you about it. Night of the Gathering, remember? But then Renna showed up …”

  “And we all had bigger worries,” Leesha agreed.

  “Had my doubts at first,” Rojer said. “Never thought of Kendall like that. Honest word.” He looked at his hands, trying to find a way to express what he was feeling. He could do it easily with his fiddle, but notes always came to him more easily than words.

  “This thing I have.” A woeful beginning. “This … affinity with the demons, this way of influencing them with music that you and Arlen expected me to be able to teach—Kendall’s the only one who really gets it. The Jongleurs, even Amanvah and Sikvah, can follow a lead and mimic the notes, but they don’t … feel it like Kendall does. When she and I play together, it’s as transcendent and intimate as anything in marriage. When the four of us play, it’s a ripping choir of seraphs.”

  He smiled. “Only natural to want to kiss, after.”

  “So kiss!” Leesha said. “Night, stick each other silly. No one’s business but yours and your wives. But marriage …”

  “Told you, we don’t need a Tender’s blessing,” Rojer said. “Kendall’s my apprentice. Only natural she live with us. She’ll have her Jongleur’s license soon, and we’ll invite Lusy to stay. It’s certainly better than the hovel the women are sharing.”

  “You think no one will notice?” Leesha asked.

  “Course they will,” Rojer said. “Be the talk of the town. Rojer with his harem. I’ll seed the tale myself.”

  “Why?” Leesha said. “Why invite scandal?”

  “Because it’s coming whether I like or not,” Rojer said. “Amanvah and Kendall struck a deal before I knew what was going on, and it was a deal only a fool would turn down. So let people gossip now, and get used to it. I’ll make them love me in spite of it, so when Kendall gets pregnant, no one’s surprised when I ledger it a legitimate child.”

  “Is that you talking, or Amanvah?” Leesha asked.

  Rojer threw up his hands. “Corespawned if I know.”

  It was nearly midnight when Rojer finally left. Leesha watched him leave the yard, scripting her next meeting with Lusy.

  If Kendall is willing, there’s nothing you can do to stop this, she would say, pausing for the shock of the words to set in. All you can do it delay it and hope the girl comes to her senses. Agree to negotiate, but ask for ridiculous things …

  She shook herself. There would be time for it in the morning. If I get in bed right now, I might get six hours before Wonda and the children come back and folk start stomping on the porch.

  Leesha closed the door and went straight to her bedroom, leaving a trail of hairpins and shoes. Her dress was falling as she entered the room, the silk shift she wore underneath nightgown enough. She climbed into bed, forgoing even her nightly cleansing rituals. Her face and teeth would have to survive a few hours.

  It felt like she had just closed her eyes when there was a pounding at the door. Leesha sat bolt upright, wondering how the night could have passed so soon.

  But then she opened her eyes, and saw the room was still dark, lit only by the soft glow of wards.

  The thumping continued as Leesha fumbled on her robe, staggering out of the room. She had deliberately not used hora tonight that she might sleep naturally, and now felt worse than she had the morning after she got drunk at Arlen’s wedding. Her head throbbed with agony at every rap on the wood.

  Either there’s someone bleeding to death on the other side of that door, or there’s going to be. Leesha made no effort to disguise her displeasure as she opened the door, only to find her mother on her front porch.

  The Creator is punishing me, she thought. It’s the only explanation.

  Elona looked her up and down as she stood frazzled and fuming in the doorway. “Putting on a little weight, girl. Folk are already whispering that the count may have an heir on the way.”

  Leesha crossed her arms. “Rumors you’re no doubt fueling.”

  Elona shrugged. “A wink here, a nudge there. Nothing to hold before a magistrate. You put your klats on the table when you got drunk and stuck the count in front of his carriage driver, Leesha. Too late to pull the bet now.”

  “We didn’t do it in front of …” Leesha began, but cut herself off. Why was she even engaging? Her bed still beckoned. “Why are you here in the middle of the night, Mother?”

  “Pfaw, it’s barely midnight,” Elona said. “Since when are you in bed so early?”

  Leesha breathed. It was a fair point. She was used to receiving visitors at all hours, but most of them sent word first.

  Elona tired of waiting for an invitation and pushed past Leesha. “Put the kettle on, that’s a girl. Nights are turning chill as a coreling’s heart.”

  Leesha closed her eyes, counting to ten before closing the door and refilling the kettle. Elona, of course, didn’t lift a finger to help. She was in the sitting room when Leesha brought the tray. Bruna’s rocking chair was by no means the most comfortable place to sit, but Elona took it anyway, if only because she knew Leesha preferred it.

  Leesha kept her dignity as she settled on a divan, back straight. “Why are you here, Mother?”

  Elona sipped her tea, made a face, and added three more sugars. “Got news.”

  “Good or bad?” Leesha asked, already knowing the answer. She could not recall a time her mother had ever delivered good news.

  “Bit of both, from where you stand,” Elona said. “I don’t think you’re alone.”

  “Alone?” Leesha asked.

  Elona arched her back, rubbing her free hand on her stomach. “Might have my own scandal brewing, just in time to distract from yours.”

 
Leesha tried to speak, but no words would come. She stared at her mother a long time. “You’re …”

  “Sick as a cat, and my flow ent come,” Elona confirmed. “How that’s even possible is beyond me, but there it is.”

  “It’s certainly possible,” Leesha said. “You’re only forty-f—”

  “Ay!” Elona cut her off. “No need to throw barbs! Ent talking about age. Quarter century ago Hag Bruna—your sainted teacher—told me you were my womb’s last chance. Ent had a lick of pomm tea or made a man pull out since, but not an egg in the warmer. You mean to tell me all of a sudden I’m a fresh flower again?”

  “Anything’s possible,” Leesha said, “but if I had to guess, I’d say it was the greatward.”

  “Ay?” Elona said.

  “Everyone in Cutter’s Hollow has been living for nearly a year on a ward that charges the very land with magic,” Leesha said. “Even folk who don’t fight are getting a bit of the feedback, making them younger, stronger—”

  “—and more fertile,” Elona guessed. She lifted a biscuit, then gagged and put it back on her saucer. “Ent all bad, I suppose. Your sibling and your child can crap the same crib and chase each other in the garden.”

  Leesha tried to imagine that, but it was just too much. “Mother, I have to ask …”

  “Who’s the da?” Elona asked. “Core if I know. Gared was sticking me regular the last few years …”

  “Creator, Mother!” Leesha cried.

  Elona ignored her and went on. “But the boy’s gotten all religious since he stood up for the Warded Man. Hasn’t touched me since you caught us on the road.”

  She sighed. “Could be your father’s, I suppose, but Erny’s not the man he used to be. You’d be amazed, what I have to do just to get him stiff enough to …”

  “Augh!” Leesha covered her ears.

  “What?” Elona said. “Ent you the town Gatherer? Ent it your job to listen to this kind of talk and help folk figure things out?”

  “Well, yes …” Leesha began.

  “So everyone else is good enough, but not your own mum?” Elona demanded.

  Leesha rolled her eyes. “Mother, no one else comes to me with stories like this. And what about Da? He’s a right to know the child might not be his.”