The Core

by Peter V. Brett

  Abban arrived before his master to prepare for Jardir’s arrival. The fat khaffit walked on two camel crutches now, but he was smiling. “Everam’s beard, it is good to see you, daughter of Erny!”

  Leesha bit back a scowl at all the pain he’d caused, but Abban’s advice to her had always been honest, and he paid a heavy price for his failings.

  “I am glad to see you recovered, son of Chabin,” she said in Krasian.

  Abban bowed as much as his crutches allowed. “I am nothing short of amazed at how quickly you have mastered our language.”

  Leesha winked. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

  “I am to warn you,” Abban said, “the Damajah will arrive with my master.”

  “Of course.” Leesha expected as much. “It would not be proper for Shar’Dama Ka to visit without his Jiwah Ka to chaperone.”

  Abban bowed again. “I see you have come to understand our ways as well as our language.”

  The rest of the Krasians arrived soon after, their honor guard of dal’Sharum met by Gared and an equal number of Hollow Soldiers. Leesha met their delegation in her receiving hall, but she stepped down from the throne to greet them in friendship. Wonda and Stela flanked her, eyes alert.

  Briar was with them, looking almost unrecognizable in Sharum blacks, bathed and groomed. He carried a toddler on his shoulder, accompanied by a Sharum’ting in a white turban.

  “Who’s she?” Stela asked.

  Leesha did not reply, tightening her throat against the forming lump as Amanvah appeared, carrying an infant girl. Kendall was with her, carrying the boy.

  Finally, Inevera and Ahmann were presented. The Damajah’s eyes were cold, but her nod was respectful. Jardir, looking handsome and regal, beamed and embraced her under Inevera’s watchful glare.

  “Intended.”

  “Will you ever stop calling me that?” Leesha asked, but she was smiling.

  “Of course.” Ahmann bowed. “As soon as you agree to my proposal.”

  “You may be waiting a long time for that,” Leesha said. “You are here to sign something greater than a marriage contract.”

  —

  Jardir felt Inevera bristle at the words.

  “Only if we agree on the final—”

  “Peace, jiwah,” Jardir said. “There will be no further negotiations. My gift to bless this day.”

  “You give away too much,” Inevera hissed, too low for the Hollowers to hear.

  “I must agree with the Damajah,” Abban said.

  “I made a promise to the Par’chin,” Jardir said loudly. “Let it be kept, and without delay.”

  The ceremony was short. Leesha’s minister produced five copies of the newly penned Pact of the Free Cities, formally calling an end to the Daylight War. The signatories recognized one another’s sovereignty, including the newly independent duchy of the Hollow and the restored duchy of Lakton. Everam’s Bountry was ceded as Krasian lands, but with new laws governing trade and the treatment of chin.

  There were pledges of unity against the demons, but it seemed a distant thing, now. The few demons that remained were leaderless, pushed farther and farther from their territories by the growing greatwards.

  When copies were all signed and witnessed, General Cutter approached, slapping Jardir on the back in that overly familiar way the greenlanders had. Jardir’s bodyguards stiffened, but he gave them no signal to interfere.

  “Men are all goin’ to the parlor for a drink and a smoke,” Gared said, “you and Abban want to join.”

  Jardir’s eyes flicked to Inevera.

  “Go, husband.” The whispered words were carried to his earring alone, but he could see the quirk of a smile behind her translucent veil. “I will not kill the daughter of Erny before your return.”

  Abban, watching the exchange, caught Jardir’s subtle nod and turned to Gared to facilitate. “Of course, son of Steave. We would be honored. Please, lead the way.”

  The greenlanders were informal; men of various station mingled amid the haze of pipe smoke in the parlor. But even among the chin true royalty stood apart. Dukes Ragen and Isan were an island amid the crowd.

  Isan drifted a step back at their approach, but Ragen returned the gesture when Jardir reached out to clasp wrists in the Northern fashion.

  “It is an honor, Duke Ragen,” Jardir said. “The Par’chin spoke to me of you many times. If you carry a fraction of the honor he lauds upon you, your place in Heaven is assured.”

  “The honor is mine.” Ragen’s aura was wary, but mention of the Par’chin helped put him at ease.

  Gared gave a signal, and a tray of Nothern ale was brought over. “Thought we’d have a toast to Mr. Bales.”

  Jardir held up a hand. “Forgive me, son of Steave, but the Evejah forbids…”

  “Nie’s black heart, Ahmann!” Abban cried, startling everyone—Jardir most of all. Abban had never dared speak to him so in front of others.

  “You are Shar’Dama Ka.” Abban’s tone was the kind reserved for a child. “You can edit the Evejah with a word. If a fraction of the honor you laud upon the Par’chin is truth, then this once you can honor the customs of his people and drink a toast in his name.”

  Jardir blinked, speechless as Abban reached into his vest, producing a small clay bottle and a handful of tiny porcelain cups. “And I have brought just the thing.”

  Ragen’s eyes glittered. “Can’t remember the last time I had couzi.”

  “Horrible stuff.” Gared seemed eager nonetheless.

  Abban passed out the cups, filling them from the small bottle. “The Par’chin visited my pavilion often, and we would drink three times before conducting business.”

  Jardir said nothing as Abban filled his cup. The last time he drank couzi had not gone well for him. That, more than Evejan law, had stayed him all these years.

  Abban raised his cup. “To the son of Jeph, a hard negotiatior who never once tried to cheat me.”

  They all laughed at that, touching cups and drinking in one smooth motion. Jardir grimaced as the liquid burned his tongue and throat like boiling water. Around the circle, other men did the same.

  Abban filled the cups again, and Ragen lifted his. “To Arlen Bales, who was as much a son to me as any of blood.”

  Again they touched cups and threw them back. There was no burning this time, Jardir’s mouth still numb from the first. He relaxed, and knew his friend had been right. The pact wasn’t the only thing he owed the Par’chin.

  Abban filled the cups a third time, and this time Jardir was first to raise his. “To the Deliverer, who sits with honor at the table of Heaven.”

  Jardir did not hesitate as the other men gaped, clicking the nearest cup and tossing back his third cup of couzi.

  This time, it tasted like cinnamon.

  —

  Safely ensconced in the women’s wing, Leesha reached eagerly for the child. Olive seldom suckled anymore, eating solids as voraciously as she had her mother’s milk. She was little more than a year old now, Darin barely ten months, but already the two of them and young Kaji were chasing each other around the room.

  But Rojer’s son Arick, not yet six months old, was still hungry for the teat. Leesha sobbed as he latched on to her, looking down at her friend’s face in perfect miniature. Arick’s skin was darker than his father’s, but the shock of red hair atop his head was unmistakable. His eyes closed contentedly as he sucked.

  Amanvah handed her daughter Rojvah to Inevera and produced a tear bottle, gently scraping the wetness from Leesha’s cheek. “You honor my husband with your milk, mistress.”

  Leesha shook her head. “The honor is mine.”

  “Sikvah would have been proud to see this moment,” Amanvah said. “Perhaps from Heaven she can.”

  “It must have been difficult, nursing two,” Leesha said.

  “At first,” Amanvah agreed, “but Ashia helped.”

  “It was the least I could do for my spear sister’s child,” Ashia said.

  L
eesha bent to kiss the top of Arick’s head. “You will grow up strong, nursed by a Damaji’ting and the Sharum’ting Ka.”

  “Not to mention the Duchess of the Hollow,” Elona said, rocking young Selen, who had only just drifted off to sleep.

  Inevera watched the others with a hawkish eye, but then Araine whispered something to her, and the Damajah’s laugh was deep and genuine.

  “Nice, seein’ the kids all together like—!” Renna left the sentence unfinished, crossing the room in an instant to catch a vase the children knocked from a side table. “Ay, you scamps! Settle down!”

  “Sorry, Auntie Ren!” Olive called, but then Darin poked at Kaji and he shrieked, setting all three off running again.

  “Swear to the Creator,” Renna muttered as she returned to the couches, “that boy’s more likely to give me a heart attack than his da.”

  “Of course, none of that wildness comes from his mum,” Leesha noted.

  Renna winked at her. “Course not.”

  “Kaji is no innocent,” Ashia said. “No crib can hold him now. The boy climbs like a Watcher, sneaking off in the middle of the night to find Briar.”

  “Olive just breaks the slats now,” Leesha said. “Not fifteen months, and strong as a mule.”

  “If she is anything like her father, she is twice as stubborn,” Inevera said, and Leesha laughed. She and Ahmann’s Jiwah Ka might never be friends, but they were no longer enemies, and that was a start.

  “Darin doesn’t even bother breakin’ slats,” Renna said. “Boy’s already mistin’ through ’em at night. Scared half to death he’s going to skate all the way to the desert, or down to the Core to look for his da.”

  “He can dissipate?!” Leesha tried to hide her alarm. Renna was right to be worried. She glanced at Olive, praying her daughter never learned the skill.

  “Just a little at a time,” Renna said, “like a mouse squeezin’ through a crack. Ent gone all the way to smoke yet, but it’s only a matter o’ time.”

  “Night,” Elissa said. “And here I thought Arlen was a handful.”

  They all laughed at that, and amid the sounds of babies crying and children scampering about, Leesha found hope for a lasting peace.

  For Sirena Lilith, who is already changing my life in countless ways.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  In the decade since I first sold The Warded Man, countless people have helped make the Demon Cycle series a reality. Editors, agents, publishers, marketing and publicity, booksellers, and you, the reader, all deserve more thanks than I can possibly convey, but if I may call out a few…

  Special thanks to Dr. Bill Greene for the herb lore, and Lauren Greene for bringing a perfect little girl into my life the day after this book went to the publisher. Sirena has made every moment since a treasure. Cassandra Brett, who is becoming a great little writer herself.

  Myke Cole, who believed in my work before anyone, and pushed me to submit to Joshua Bilmes, whose team at JABberwocky Literary Agency has been a bedrock of support.

  My editors, particularly Tricia Narwani and Natasha Bardon, who tackled a rough 1,043-page first draft and helped me polish it down to a gem, and Laura Jorstad, my copy editor, who does more heavy lifting behind the scenes than you might realize.

  Larry Rostant, whose cover art catches eyes from across the store, and the cover models, as well as Millennium FX, who sculpted a real-life Alagai Ka. Lauren K. Cannon for her ward designs and Dominik Broniek for his haunting illustrations. Narrators Pete Bradbury, Colin Mace, and the cast and crew at GraphicAudio. The international publishers and translators whose work introduces me to new readers all over the world.

  My assistant Karen, who takes care of so much so I can focus on writing.

  And to everyone in previous acknowledgments whom I didn’t have space to mention again. Thank you all—I couldn’t have made it through this journey without you.

  WARD GRIMOIRE

  DEFENSIVE WARDS

  Defensive wards Draw magic to form a barrier (forbiddance) through which demons cannot pass. Wards are strongest when used against the specific demon type to which they are assigned, and are most commonly used in conjunction with other wards in circles of protection. When a circle activates, all demonflesh is forcibly banished from its line. A mixed group of demons is referred to as a host.

  BANK DEMON

  Description: Called frog demons or froggies, these demons appear much like common fly frogs, but they are large enough to swallow humans whole. They lie in wait in shallow water, springing only when prey comes within range. One hop puts them up onto land, and they lash out with long, powerful tongues, catching victims around the midsection or limbs and dragging them into the corelings’ wide maws. Bank demons will then return to the water, drowning their struggling prey. A group of bank demons is called an army.

  CAVE DEMON

  Description: Cave demons, also known as spider demons, have eight segmented legs and can run at great speed. Cave demons excrete a sticky silk that is magic-dead—invisible to wardsight and immune to wards of protection. They will prepare traps and lie in wait for the unwary. These demons seldom rise to the surface unless summoned by a mind; they are more commonly found in deep caves and the tunnels of a demon hive. They are the guardians of the larder. A group of cave demons is called a clutter.

  CLAY DEMON

  Description: Clay demons are native to the hard clay flats on the outskirts of the Krasian desert. They are about as big as a medium-sized dog, with compact bunched muscle and thick, overlapping armor plates. Their short, hard talons allow them to cling to most any rock face, even hang upside down. Their orange-brown armor can blend invisibly into an adobe wall or clay bed. The blunt head of a clay demon can smash through nearly anything, shattering stone and denting steel. A group of clay demons is known as a shattering.

  FIELD DEMON

  Description: Sleek and low to the ground, with long, powerful limbs and retractable claws, field demons are the fastest thing on four legs when they have open ground to accelerate. Tough scales on their limbs and back can turn aside most weapons, but their underbelly—if exposed—is more vulnerable. A group of field demons is known as a reap.

  FLAME DEMON

  Description: Flame demons have eyes, nostrils, and mouths that glow with a smoky orange light. They are the smallest demons, ranging from the size of a rabbit to that of a large cat. Like all demons, they have long, hooked claws and rows of razor-sharp teeth. Their armor consists of small, overlapping scales, sharp and hard. Flame demons can spit fire in brief bursts. Their sticky firespit burns intensely on contact with air and can set almost any substance alight, even metal and stone. A group of flame demons is known as a blaze.

  LIGHTNING DEMON

  Description: Though lightning demons are nearly indistinguishable from their wind demon cousins, their spit is charged with electricity that can paralyze a victim. They spit as they dive, snatching up their helpless victims to devour them alive. A group of lightning demons is known as a thundercloud.

  MIMIC DEMON

  Description: Mimics are the elite bodyguards to mind demons. Less vulnerable to light than their masters and more intelligent than the lesser breeds, mimics serve as lieutenants and are able to summon and exert their will upon coreling drones. Their natural form is unknown, but they are able to assume the form of nearly anything they encounter, from inanimate objects to creatures, clothing, and equipment. One of their favorite tricks is to learn the names of their prey and take the form of a friend, feigning distress and calling to their victims to convince them to leave the safety of their wards. A gathering of mimic demons is known as a troupe.

  MIND DEMON

  Description: Also known as coreling princes, mind demons are the generals of demonkind. The only male-sexed caste among demonkind, minds are physically weak and have little in the way of the natural defenses of the other corelings, but they have vast mental and magical powers. They can read and control minds, communicate telepathically, and implant
permanent suggestions. They can draw wards in the air and power them with their own innate magic. Coreling drones follow their every mental command without hesitation, and will give their lives to protect them. Sensitive to even moonlight, mind demons only rise on the three-night period of the new moon cycle, in the hours when night is darkest. A gathering of mind demons is known as a court.

  ROCK DEMON

  Description: The largest of the coreling breeds, rock demons can range in height from six to twenty feet. Hulking masses of sinew and sharp edges, they have thick carapaces knobbed with bony protrusions, and their spiked tails can shatter stone. They stand hunched on two clawed feet, with long, gnarled arms ending in talons the size of butcher knives and multiple rows of bladelike teeth. No known physical force can harm a rock demon. A group of rock demons is called a quake.

  SAND DEMON

  Description: Cousins to rock demons, sand demons are smaller and more nimble, but still among the strongest and best armored of the coreling breeds. They have small, sharp scales that are a dirty yellow almost indistinguishable from gritty sand. They run on all fours but can rise to two legs in combat. Their short snouts have rows of sharp teeth, with nostril slits just below large, lidless eyes. Thick horns curve upward and back, cutting through the scales. Their brows twitch continually as they displace the ever-blowing desert sand. Sand demons hunt in packs known as storms.

  SNOW DEMON

  Description: Similar to flame demons in build, snow demons are native to frozen Northern climates and high mountain elevations. Their scales are such pure white, they scintillate with color if caught in the light. Snow demons are nearly invisible in the snow, and spit a liquid so cold it instantly freezes anything it touches. Steel struck with coldspit can become brittle enough to shatter. A group of snow demons is called a blizzard.

  STONE DEMON