The Daylight War (55 page)

‘Since when do Herb Gatherers go on diplomacy missions?’ the man asked. ‘That’s Messenger work.’

Rojer stepped forward, extending a hand with a sweep of his motley cloak. ‘I am the herald of Deliverer’s Hollow. Rojer Halfgrip, former apprentice to Arrick Sweetsong, one-time herald of Duke Rhinebeck of Angiers.’

‘Halfgrip?’ the man asked. ‘The one they call the fiddle wizard?’ Rojer smiled widely at that, nodding.

‘You have our names, but have not given yours,’ Leesha said. ‘I’m guessing you are Havold, the Town Speaker?’

‘Ay, how d’you know that?’ the man demanded.

‘Your Herb Gatherer, Mistress Ana, once wrote to me for advice on curing your daughter Thea of the gasping cough,’ Leesha said. ‘She is well, I take it?’

‘That was ten years ago,’ Havold said. ‘She has children of her own now, and I don’t care for the thought of them sleeping not half a mile from a bunch of murdering Krasians. We heard the stories from those that passed through last winter, running from them.’ His bearded lip curled at Kaval and Enkido, showing the tip of one of his canines.

Leesha prayed the drillmaster would not rise to the bait, and breathed a sigh when he remained silent. ‘I cannot speak for the people as a whole, but I can vouch for the men in my caravan. If left alone, they will keep to themselves and harm no one. Most will remain in their carts on the road, but my parents are elderly and I would dearly appreciate a few beds for the night. As my herald told you, we can pay, in both gold and entertainment.’

Havold’s mouth was a hard line, but he nodded.

Leesha sat in the taproom with her parents, Gared, Wonda, Kaval, and Enkido as Rojer tuned his fiddle. He sat in a plain hard-back chair in a dimly lit corner, Amanvah and Sikvah kneeling on clean cloth to either side of him. Leesha could tell the drillmaster and eunuch were uneasy with Amanvah and Sikvah on the stage – such things were unheard of in Krasia – but they kept their peace after a few harsh whispers from the
dama’ting
. The other tables and bar stools were packed with Meadowers, with more standing at the back. A Jongleur would draw a crowd in any event, but Leesha could see as many eyes on the Krasians at her table as on the stage, not all of them friendly. The general din kept her from making out details, but there was angry murmuring throughout the room.

At least until the music began.

Rojer had done nothing to warm the crowd as he had the day before. No acrobatics or juggling, no magic tricks, jokes, or stories. With his wives on stage, he played and nothing more.

As he had in Ahmann’s dining hall, Rojer began with a slow, quiet melody, building in complexity and volume until the sound filled the room, wrapping everyone in its spell. The crowd fell silent, eyes glazing. In her heart, Leesha knew his playing was not truly magic, but the way human and demon both were moved by it belied that fact. He had a gift none could deny.

When the music built to a crescendo, Amanvah and Sikvah began to sing, wordlessly at first, but then in perfect Thesan:

Everam
the
Creator

Saw
the
cold
blackness
of
Nie

And
felt
no
satisfaction

Creating
Blessed
Ala

He
sparked
sun
and
moon
for
light

And
men
in
His
own
image

Everam
was
satisfied

Nie
was
vexed
by
Creation

Marring
Her
perfect
dark
void

She
reached
out
to
crush
Ala

When
Everam
stayed
Her
hand

Nie
spat
blackness
on
His
world

The
Mother
of
all
demons

Alagai’ting Ka uncurled

Everam
blew
a
great
breath

Spinning
all
His
Creation

The
Demon
Queen
fled
before

The
holy
sun
and
moonlight

Cursing
Alagai’ting Ka

Slipped
into
the
dark
abyss

At
the
centre
of
Ala

But
Ala
turned
and
night
fell

Heralding
Nie’s dark children

Get
of
Alagai’ting Ka

The
destroyers, alagai

Everam
against
Nie’s might

Bade
man
to
defend
himself

Steadfast
in
the
cold
moonlight

Moonlight
is
always
Waning

Alagai
power
growing

And
when
the
moonlight
falls
dark

Alagai
Ka
walks
Ala

Ward
your
mind
when
Waning
teems

Lest
the
father
of
demons

Devour
your
thoughts
and
dreams

Everam
Great
and
Mighty

Sent
His
children
one
last
gift

Gave
us
the
Deliverer

Shar’Dama Ka leads the way

To
glory
and
Heaven’s light

Unite
Everam’s children

To
purge
the
Demon
Queen’s blight

Shar’Dama Ka is Coming

To
unite
mankind
as
one

Kneel
to
him
and
Everam

Or
be
levied
with
the
spear

To
bathe
in
alagai
gore

Joining
glorious
battle

Of
Sharak
Ka, the First War

Leesha felt an ache in her hand, and realized she had been clutching her teacup so hard her knuckles showed white. She forced herself to relax and glance around a room holding its collective breath. At the last verse she expected the Krasians to suddenly produce weapons – though those had all been left in their rooms – or the Meadowers to riot. Instead, all burst into a cacophony of sound. Kaval and Enkido roared and stomped their feet, sending bits of dust drifting down from the rafters. The clapping of the Thesans was like an entire box of festival crackers.

Not for the first time, she had underestimated Rojer. He seemed a boy, eighteen summers old, with only the barest whisper of hair on his face. Often his actions made him seem younger still – petulant, impetuous, and downright foolhardy. Leesha was forever fretting when he ignored her advice, sure she knew better than he, sure she could solve all his problems if he would only listen and do as he was told.

But Rojer had done more with a song than she could have ever imagined, telling the Meadowers everything they needed to know about the Krasians and their beliefs, warning them about the danger of the coming new moon, and telling them in no uncertain terms that Ahmann’s army was coming their way.

Most of all, he had done it right under the Krasians’ noses, revealing nothing their
dama
did not shout from their pedestals and minarets. He might as well have said the sky was blue. Amanvah and Sikvah thought they were singing their father’s glory, when in fact they were telling folk to pack their things and run as fast and far as they could.

Leesha was accustomed to knowing best, but suddenly it was she who felt directionless, and Rojer the one who could see the net for its wards.

‘That was beautiful, Rojer,’ she said, rising as they took their bows and returned to the table. Kaval and Enkido were on their feet instantly, moving to surround the women protectively.

‘Thank you,’ Rojer said, ‘but it was a group effort. I could never have done it without Amanvah and Sikvah.’

‘My husband is too modest,’ Amanvah said. ‘We taught him a song everyone knows, and helped him understand the meaning of its words, but it was he who put it in your language, finding rhymes and words we could never have hoped to.’

Leesha smiled. ‘I think you, too, are being modest, Amanvah.’ She looked at Rojer. ‘But it’s true Rojer added … subtle touches that were nothing short of brilliant.’

Just for an instant, Rojer shot her a glare, too fast for the others to notice. Amanvah looked at her curiously, and Leesha realized Rojer wasn’t the only one she was underestimating. The
dama’ting
might be young, but she was no fool.

Havold came over after the performance, and Leesha taught him the mind demon ward, and how to make headbands with it for use on new moon.

‘You mean those things are real?’ Havold gaped.

‘Every threat in that song is real, Speaker,’ Leesha said. ‘Every one.’

Rojer woke the next morning at the gentle rebound of the feathered mattress as Amanvah and Sikvah slipped to the floor. They were making an effort not to wake him, but after many nights among the skilled pickpockets of the Jongleurs’ Guild, he had learned to sleep lightly.

He kept his breathing even, pretending to shift in his sleep to give himself a better view as the women lit oil lamps and began their morning ritual. It was not yet dawn, and Rojer could likely sleep another hour before needing to rise and rejoin the caravan, but some things were preferable to sleep.

Watching his wives exercise was one of them.

Amanvah and Sikvah were clad only in loose diaphanous pants and tops, leaving little to the imagination as they moved through their
sharusahk
poses. Rojer felt himself stiffen and shifted under the blankets to put a bit of pressure on himself, swallowing a groan of pleasure as he mused about how lucky he was.

As always, the women seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to his arousal. They turned to regard him, and Rojer was not quick enough to close his eyes. Immediately, they ceased their exercise and moved towards him.

‘No, please,’ Rojer said. ‘Don’t let me interrupt. I enjoy watching.’

Sikvah looked to Amanvah, who shrugged, and the women resumed their posing.

‘Your
sharusahk
is nothing like what Gared and Wonda are learning from Kaval,’ Rojer noted.

Amanvah snorted. ‘
Sharum
sharusahk
is like wolves howling at the moon. Even the
dama
are only a cricket’s song. This,’ she fell into a series of poses, ‘is music.’

Rojer concentrated, thinking of Darsy Cutter, the homely Herb Gatherer of Deliverer’s Hollow. He undressed the woman in his mind’s eye until his arousal faded, then rose from the bed, moving over to face Amanvah, imitating her as she shifted from stance to stance.

It was surprisingly difficult, even for one trained to the stage. Rojer could walk on his hands, tumble, flip, and dance every dance from royal ballrooms to country reels, but the
sharukin
tested muscles he didn’t even know he had, forcing him to hold more balance than it took to walk a ball while fiddling.