“I’m afraid so,” Arther said. “The people needed a symbol to rally to in the absence of the count and yourself. Especially after Mr. and Mrs. Bales disappeared. In that, Baron Cutter was a great success. As an administrator, he…left much to be desired.”
Leesha nodded. She could not pretend this was news to her; she had known Gared all her life. The people loved and trusted him. He was one of them—first of the Cutters to answer Arlen Bales’ call to take their axes into the night. He’d put himself between the Hollowers and the demons every night since, and they all knew it. Folk slept better, knowing Gared Cutter was in charge.
But he was much better at spending money than he was at counting it. Leesha could stamp an endless number of klats, but they were only worth as much as the people believed them to be.
“Would you still seek his employ if I asked for your resignation?” Leesha asked.
Arther blew a breath through his nose. “That was an empty threat, mistress. Baron Cutter goes through clerks faster than mugs of ale. Squire Emet resigned after the baron threatened to tear his arms off.”
Leesha sighed. “And if I ordered you to go, and him to take you?”
“I might break my oath and defect to Krasia,” Arther said, and Leesha laughed so hard it rasped her throat.
Her eyes moved back to the pile of papers, and the humor left her. She rubbed her temple, massaging the dull ache that would soon blossom into pain if she didn’t have something to eat and an hour alone in her garden. “Gared needs a clerk that’s not afraid of him.”
“I don’t know where you’ll find such a man, this side of Arlen Bales,” Arther said.
“I wasn’t thinking of a man,” Leesha said. “Wonda?”
“Don’t look at me, mistress,” Wonda said. “I’m worse with papers than Gar.”
“Be a dear and fetch Miss Lacquer, then,” Leesha said.
Wonda smiled. “Ay, mistress.”
—
“Thank you for coming, Emelia.” Leesha swept a hand at one of the chairs by her desk. “Please, take a seat.”
“Thank you, Countess.” Rosal dipped a smooth, practiced curtsy, snapping her skirts as she rose so that when she seated herself, not a fold was out of place.
“Please just call me mistress,” Leesha said. “Tea?”
Rosal nodded. “Yes, please, mistress.”
Leesha signaled to Wonda. The woman could thread a needle with her bow, and she had an equally adept pour, carrying two steaming cups and saucers in one hand like a pair of klats.
“How have you found the Hollow thus far?” Leesha asked as she took her cup.
“Wonderful.” Rosal dropped a sugar in her tea, stirring. “Everyone’s been so welcoming. They’re all excited about the wedding. Even your mother has offered to help with the planning.”
“Oh?” This was the first Leesha had heard of it. It seemed unthinkable that Elona might offer to help anyone out of the goodness of her heart, Emelia Lacquer most of all.
Rosal nodded. “She’s introduced me to the best florists and seamstresses, and offered some…interesting advice on the dress.”
“My mother isn’t one to waste excess cloth,” Leesha said. “Especially on top.”
Rosal lifted her cup with a wink. “I’ve worn worse than anything your mum can dream up. But not this time. Rosal was for other men. Gared’s going to get a bride out of a Jongleur’s tale.”
“Gared’s not getting anything until his paperwork gets done,” Leesha said, indicating the pile on her desk.
Rosal nodded. “Papers aren’t Gar’s strength. After the wedding I can…”
“That’s not going to do, dear,” Leesha said. “Need I remind you of your debt to me?”
Rosal shook her head. Leesha had kept the Duchess Mum from throwing her in prison after the scandal at court. “Of course not, mistress.”
“Good,” Leesha said. “Amanvah’s dice said I could trust you to be loyal to the Hollow, and I need someone like that on my side right now.”
Rosal set down her saucer and sat up straight, hands in her lap. “How can I help?”
Leesha pointed to the stack. “Tell your promised he doesn’t get his seedpods drained until you sit him down and make him balance his ledgers.”
Rosal raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk twitching at her mouth. “Why, mistress, I have never once drained the baron’s seedpods. We are unwed! Think of the scandal!”
The smirk spread into a smile. “But I keep his tree at attention. Told him I won’t have it out of his breeches unless he’s tied down. Now whenever we’re alone he runs for the shackles.”
“Creator,” Leesha said. “You’re as bad as my mother. Be careful he doesn’t have his night strength, or he might break those shackles.”
Rosal’s eyes glittered. “Deep down, mistress, he doesn’t want to.”
“All right I wait outside, mistress?” Wonda cut in.
Rosal smiled at her. “Why, Wonda Cutter, you’re blushing!”
“Like listenin’ to you talk about my brother,” Wonda said.
“I’ve two brothers myself,” Rosal said. “I know more than I’d ever wish about their love lives.” She winked. “But I won’t say the information wasn’t useful.”
“Can I assume, then, you will quickly have the problem…ah,” Leesha smiled in spite of herself, “…in hand?”
All three women shared a laugh.
“Think no more on it, mistress,” Rosal said. “I’ll put the shackles under his desk.”
—
“The sun is set, mistress,” Tarisa said.
Leesha pried Olive from her breast, handing her to Elona. “Is everyone arrived and given tea?” Tarisa moved to fix her neckline, adding deft pats of powder.
“Lot of ’em been waiting over an hour, now,” Wonda said.
Leesha nodded. Keeping the councilors waiting was something Thamos had done to show his power, and it seemed apt to keep the practice for her first council meeting since she returned.
More, by calling the meeting late in the day, Leesha could wait out the sun, which flooded the western windows of the council chamber in the evenings. She slipped on her warded spectacles and rose, gliding out into the hall. She’d been home a week now and couldn’t put this off any longer.
“Leesha Paper, Mistress of the Hollow,” Arther said simply as he ushered her in through the royal entrance to the council chamber, all but hidden behind Thamos’ monstrosity of a throne. Eventually Leesha meant to be rid of the thing, but for now it served its purpose well, looming over the council.
Leesha had purposely removed the title from her name. Countess was something given to her by the throne of Angiers, but she had no intention of remaining beholden to them. It was high time the Hollow stood on its own.
Everyone rose, bowing and curtsying. She nodded in acknowledgment and swept a hand for them to take their seats. Only Arther kept his feet, taking up position beside the throne.
Leesha looked over the councilors. Her father, Erny, spoke for the Warders’ Guild. Smitt for the Merchants’. Shepherd Jona had taken Inquisitor Hayes’ great wooden chair, but Hayes had found another nearly as grand and sat next to him. Likewise, Baron Gared had Captain Gamon beside him. Darsy and Vika had the far end of the table, Darsy in the great padded chair Leesha once occupied. Next to them sat Amanvah, Kendall, and Hary Roller, master of the Jongleurs’ Guild.
“Thank you all for coming,” Leesha said. “I know there are many preparations to make for tonight’s ceremony, so we’ll keep this first meeting brief. First, as you all know, Lord Arther will retain his position as first minister.” She nodded to the man. “Minister?”
Arther stepped forward, writing board ready. “The Hollow has sixteen baronies now, mistress, not counting Gatherers’ Wood. Eleven have active greatwards. Four have begun to pay taxes. The others remain…unstable as the people settle into their new lives.”
Most of those baronies were formed of refugees from the Krasians, a steady flow over th
e last year. The Hollow had grown exponentially to accommodate them, printing klats to start their economies and providing structure and materials to rebuild their lives.
“All of ’em are sendin’ folk to join the Cutters,” Gared noted. “Got recruits comin’ in every day, which is good. Demons are getting pushed out by the greatwards, but it ent thinnin’ their ranks. Anythin’, it’s gettin’ worse.”
“We’re using molds and stencils to ward their weapons and shields,” Erny said. “Not as effective as those warded by hand, but it’s allowed us to keep up with demand. We’re working on bolts of cloth, as well, to mass-produce Cloaks of Unsight.”
Leesha nodded. “What are we doing to rebuild the cavalry?”
“Jon Stallion has more horses coming,” Smitt said. “The Wooden Lancers…”
“Hollow Lancers,” Leesha said, looking at Gamon.
“Eh?” Smitt asked.
“The Wooden Soldiers are dissolved as of today,” Leesha said. “Any who wish to join the Hollow Soldiers shall be automatically enrolled and keep their rank and pay, upon oath of allegiance to the Hollow. The rest…”
Gamon held up a hand. He and Arther had already discussed this. “I have spoken to the men, mistress. There are none who wish to return to Angiers.”
Leesha gave a nod. “We will see them back to strength soon, Captain.”
She looked to Jona, sitting with the rigid Inquisitor Hayes. “And your Tenders, Shepherd?”
“It will be some time before they are returned to strength,” Jona said. “The Krasian invaders executed Tender and Child alike, whenever they found them. We have only a handful to minister to many. I wish your blessing to appoint Inquisitor Hayes to speak for the Hollow’s first Council of Tenders.”
Leesha and the inquisitor eyed each other. He, too, had worn spectacles to the meeting. Leesha could see wardlight dance across them, and knew he was watching her aura as she did his.
This, too, had been agreed in advance. A way for both of them to keep face as they followed their script before the council.
“How do you think Duke Pether will react,” Leesha asked, “if you renounce the Church of Angiers and swear oath to an independent Church of the Hollow, with Jona as Shepherd?”
Hayes sketched a quick warding in the air. Leesha could see the script ripple across the ambient magic, impressed at his skill. His own eyes were drawn to it as well.
Leesha smiled at the dawning understanding in his aura. The Tenders have more power than they know.
Hayes shook off his surprise. “I trained Pether. He will take this as a personal betrayal. The Church of Angiers will declare me a heretic and likely issue a warrant for me to be burned alive if I set foot on Angierian soil ever again.”
“And still you wish to do this?” Leesha asked.
“I was sent here to quell heresy,” Inquisitor Hayes said. “To bring the Hollow back under the control of Shepherd Pether and the Church of Angiers. But in the months I have served here, I have seen people of tremendous faith and courage, and witnessed things the Angierian Council of Tenders can only imagine.
“I do not pretend to know the Creator’s Plan, but I know that He put me here for a reason, to stand between these people and the Core. To let them know the Creator is watching, and He is proud.”
His aura shone with conviction, and Leesha gave a bow of her head to Jona. “You do not need my blessing, Shepherd, but you have it.”
“Thank you, mistress,” Jona said. “We will begin promoting Tenders and bringing in new Children, but it may be years before our ranks are secure.”
“Of course,” Leesha said. “Perhaps it is time to promote Child Franq?”
The auras of both men colored. They cast nervous glances at each other, and Gared. Slowly the color rippled around the table, until it was clear everyone else knew something Leesha did not. Even Darsy.
“What?” she demanded.
“Franq’s a small part of a bigger problem,” Darsy said. “One growin’ like chokeweed in the middle of the Hollow.”
“The Warded Children,” Leesha said.
“Can’t tell ’em anythin’ anymore!” Gared slapped one of his giant hands on the table, and the whole thing shook, rattling everyone’s tea. “Don’t show up to muster, don’t listen to anyone but their own.”
“They live in the Gatherers’ Wood,” Smitt said. “They refuse to sleep inside walls.”
“Like they ent folk anymore,” Gared said. “Becomin’…somethin’ else.”
It was Leesha’s turn to slap the table. “Enough of that, Baron. These are not demons we’re talking about. These are brothers, sisters, and children of the Hollow. We’re talking about Evin and Brianne’s son Callen.” She looked to Smitt. “Your son Keet and granddaughter, Stela.”
“Callen broke Yon Gray’s arm,” Gared said.
“I caught Keet and Stela stealing from one of my warehouses,” Smitt said. “Food, weapons, tools. My own son knocked me down when I tried to stop them. I put a new lock on the warehouse, and the next time they came they kicked in the six-inch goldwood door like it was kindling.”
“What does all this have to do with Child Franq?” Leesha asked.
“It came to my attention that the Children had begun to self-train, forming their own rituals,” Hayes said. “Fearing a growing risk of heresy, I sent Franq to minister to them. Reports indicated they were hungry to learn warding, and Franq is a skilled Warder. He used it to gain access.”
“And?” Leesha asked.
Hayes blew out a breath. “He has…joined them, mistress.”
Leesha blinked. “You’re telling me that Child Franq, a man made entirely of starch, has joined the Warded Children?”
Hayes nodded grimly. “The last time I saw him, mistress, he had taken to wearing a simple brown robe.”
“That isn’t unusual,” Leesha said.
“His sleeves were cut away to show the wards tattooed on his arms,” Hayes said. “And he stank of sweat and ichor.”
“I’ll need to meet with them,” Leesha said. “And soon.”
“Ent a good idea, mistress,” Wonda said.
“She’s right, Leesh,” Gared said. “Children’re dangerous.”
“I trained ’em,” Wonda said. “Listen to me. Know they will.”
Leesha shook her head. “I need to see for myself. I assure you, we will go prepared and do nothing to provoke them until we have their measure.”
“Must be someone you can send,” Wonda said, “just to feel things out.”
“Normally that would be a job for my herald,” Leesha said, “but with Rojer gone, that position is empty.” She looked to Kendall. “The job is yours, Kendall, if you want it.”
Kendall blinked. “Me, mistress? Ent much more’n an apprentice…”
“Nonsense,” Leesha said. “Rojer himself told me you are the only one he’s ever met with his talent for charming demons. The Hollow needs that with him gone, and Rojer’s word is more than good enough for me. Guildmaster?”
Hary Roller smiled, producing a scroll and handing it to the young woman. “Your Jongleur’s license, Kendall Demonsong.”
“Ay, like the sound of that,” Kendall said, taking the scroll.
“So will you take the job?” Leesha pressed. “The license is yours regardless, but there is no one else I would have in the position.”
Kendall looked to Amanvah, who nodded. “Yes, mistress, of course.”
Hayes harrumphed. Leesha raised an eyebrow his way. “Something on your mind, Inquisitor?”
Hayes pursed his lips. “Only that your new herald appears to answer to an Evejan priestess first and her countess second.”
Amanvah’s brows knit together, aura spiking. Hayes saw it, too, and flinched. Leesha raised a hand before she could retort. “I trust Kendall implicitly, Inquisitor, which is more than I can say for your judgment at the moment. As for Amanvah…” She looked to the dama’ting. “You might as well tell them.”
Amanvah drew a
breath, returning to serenity. “Sikvah and I will be returning to Everam’s Bounty after our husband’s funeral. The Damaji’ting of the Kaji was slain in my brother’s coup. I am to take her place.”
There were gasps around the table. “Damaji’ting…” Jona began.
“ ‘Shepherdess’ is the closest translation,” Amanvah said, “though it falls short, as it is a secular title as well. I will have direct control of the dama’ting and women of the Kaji, Krasia’s largest tribe.”
“Shepherdess and duchess both, then,” Jona said, bowing to her. “Congratulations, Your Highness.”
Similar sentiments echoed around the table. Amanvah acknowledged them with regal nods before turning to meet Leesha’s eyes. “I cannot speak for my mother and brother, mistress, but know by the blood we share that you and the Hollow will always have an ally in me.”
Leesha nodded. “Of that I have no doubt.” She turned back to Arther. “What news from Lakton?”
Arther eyed Amanvah warily. “Mistress…”
“There’s nothing you can say that Amanvah won’t learn on her return, Minister,” Leesha said.
Arther pursed his lips, choosing his words carefully. “The island remains free, though the waters now host a growing number of Krasian privateers.”
“And the mainland?” Leesha asked.
“Still under Krasian control,” Arther said, “but their positions are weaker. The remains of Prince Jayan’s army have not returned. Half have deserted, preying like wolves on any settlements they come upon. The rest have taken refuge behind the walls of the Monastery of Dawn.”
“And the refugees who took succor there?” Leesha had sent Briar Damaj to find any that may have escaped the slaughter.
“Briar’s been in and out,” Gared said. “Brought in a group already. Due this evening with the last of ’em, includin’ a couple of Milnese dignitaries he wants you to meet.”
Leesha took a sip of her tea. “Have rooms ready for them, and an invitation to call on me once they’ve had a day or two to refresh themselves.”
The Core Page 5
