The Daylight War (79 page)

Stela slowed and turned to look at them, but did not stop. ‘Ent you heard? Deliverer just got married!’ She turned back and took off, vanishing into the throng ahead.

Rojer and Wonda’s eyes snapped to Leesha. She could see them holding their breath, waiting to see her reaction.

‘Wonda,’ she said, ‘be a dear and run back to the cottage and fetch the festival flamework. Careful with it on your way back.’

Wonda looked at her a minute, then unstrung her bow, tucking it over her shoulder before setting off at a run.

‘You all right?’ Rojer asked.

Leesha shrugged. ‘He’s made his choice, Rojer. How I feel about it doesn’t really matter. Arlen Bales saved us, and this town, and if this is what he wants, what gives him peace …’

Rojer looked at her. ‘Then we shut up and dance.’

Leesha smiled. ‘Ay.’

Stela rushed by them again, and returned a few moments later with more flowers. This time Leesha stopped her, pressing a coin into her hand and taking a handful.

‘This way,’ Rojer said, moving towards a collection of Krasians, standing apart from the rest of the throng. At their forefront were Amanvah and Sikvah, a knot of
dal’Sharum
around them. Rojer quickened his pace, and Leesha had to lift her skirts to keep up.

Amanvah saw their approach and immediately went over to him, Sikvah a step behind. ‘Greetings, husband. It appears we have returned on an auspicious day for the Hollow tribe. It is said the Par’chin and his new
Jiwah
Ka
gave no warning. Your tribesmen were not prepared, and were … chaotic in their joy. I sent Shamavah to facilitate for the bride before she was overwhelmed.’

‘That was very kind of you,’ Leesha said.

Amanvah bowed, but she did not take her eyes off Rojer. ‘It is an honour to observe your Northern wedding customs.’

Rojer shook his head. ‘Wedding celebrations aren’t meant to be observed, Amanvah. They’re meant to be enjoyed.’

Amanvah shook her head, and even Sikvah looked taken aback. ‘This is not our tribe …’

‘The Core it isn’t,’ Rojer said. ‘Are you my wives or not?’

Amanvah blinked. ‘Of course we are …’

‘Then …’ Rojer took her arms and drew in close to her, smiling as their noses touched through the thin white silk of her veil. ‘… please honour me by shutting up and dancing.’

With that, he took them both out into the wide space cleared in the Corelings’ Graveyard. People were reeling, spinning wildly into one another’s arms with practised efficiency. Amanvah and Sikvah watched the dance warily. No doubt there was nothing like it in Krasia. Any unmarried men and women so casually touching one another was against Evejan law, and no doubt touching a
dama’ting
who was not your wife would get a man’s hand cut off. Out of the corner of his eye, Rojer could see Enkido lurking nearby.

‘Look at me,’ Rojer commanded, and the women both turned to him. ‘I know this dance looks daunting, but it’s really quite simple. Watch my feet.’ He traced a quick series of steps, moving in a figure of eight. ‘You try,’ he said, continuing to move in the repeating pattern.

‘Good!’ Rojer cried as they did. ‘Now clap your hands and stomp your feet to the beat of the music.’ He began to clap as his feet beat a steady pattern on the cobblestones.

‘Ay, now you’re getting it,’ Rojer said and moved his pattern to intersect Amanvah. ‘When we swing close, lock my arm, and I’ll use your momentum to spin you about and back into place. Then you just keep on.’

‘Like in
sharusahk
.’ Amanvah nodded. She caught his arm smoothly, leaping slightly to assist as he spun her. She kept the beat easily, and a laugh escaped her as she touched down and kept on.

‘Now Sikvah!’ Rojer said, turning to his other wife and bowing as he danced her way. Sikvah squealed with delight as he lifted her.

And so it went, as they fell into a pattern with him alternating between them. Both women were laughing openly now, and Rojer felt his heart swell.

‘This way!’ Rojer shouted, and caught both their arms, dancing them into the crowd. The women both shrieked as other men came at them, but then a thick-armed Cutter swept Amanvah off, setting her back just in time for Rojer to catch her arm next.

‘Everam’s beard,’ Amanvah gasped, breathless, but there was joy in her voice.

‘You honour us by sharing in our traditions,’ Rojer said before she was swept off by the next man in line. He turned just in time to catch Sikvah from one of Benn Blower’s apprentices.

‘I can’t believe I just did that!’ Sikvah shrieked with glee.

It went on for some time. The sight of a
dama’ting
dancing drew other Krasian men and women into the crowd, clapping and stomping. They kept to families, but began to imitate the dance, laughing as they spun one another about.

One of the Jongleurs on the stage spotted Rojer and pointed with the bow of his fiddle, shouting, ‘Halfgrip!’

It went through the crowd with a roar. ‘Halfgrip! Halfgrip! Get up on stage!’ The dancing stopped cold, and all eyes turned to him. Rojer bowed to his wives, pausing to whisper briefly in Amanvah’s ear, then pulled out his fiddle case and leapt up the steps into the sound shell as the women moved away. The Hollowers cheered as one as he walked centre stage.

From the new vantage, Rojer could see the happy couple, Arlen and Renna, surrounded by a throng of people, waving and shaking hands. Shamavah stood on Renna’s free side, Gared at Arlen’s, keeping everyone respectful and tending their needs.

‘It’s an honour to be here on such a special night,’ Rojer said loudly. He didn’t have his magic chinrest to amplify the sound, but the shell was almost as good, and Rojer knew how to project in any event. The crowd quieted, and he saw Arlen and Renna look up at him. He waved broadly in return. ‘I wouldn’t be here tonight, ay, none of us might, if not for that man, there.’ He pointed. ‘Arlen Bales. He’s saved my life more times than I can count, once in this very place.’

From all over the square, there were cries of agreement. Rojer let them go a moment, heightening the sense, then patted the air till they died out. He cast about the crowd, and, seeing a man with a foaming mug of ale, gestured, taking the cup and raising it high. ‘And now, our friend has chosen a beautiful bride.’ He swept another hand. ‘I give you Renna Bales!’

There was a roar, and hundreds of Cutters drank as one as Rojer quaffed the entire mug, tossing it back to the man, who held it up like a trophy.

‘I see a lot of new faces on this stage,’ Rojer said, turning to the masters of the Jongleurs’ Guild and their skilled apprentices, ‘but I’m going to play a song I wrote, and I hope they can follow along.’ He smiled to the crowd. ‘Maybe you can help them with the words.’

With that, he took his fiddle and began the opening notes to
The
Battle
of
Cutter’s Hollow
. Folk recognized them and began to cheer anew, stomping their feet so hard Rojer could feel the sturdy stage rattling. He saw Kendall lingering stage right and beckoned her, twirling his bow until she began to play as well.

Together they began the melody, a song they had played together a thousand times. The other Jongleurs had obviously learned the song, because they joined the pair smoothly, accompanying their lead as Rojer began to sing. He kept the tempo slow, letting each verse be its own little world as he took the Hollowers through all the trials and triumph of that night.

There was a solo in the piece, but Kendall kept playing even as the other players fell silent. Her fiddling had improved greatly since he’d seen her last, and she smirked at him.

Never one to back down from a musical challenge, the solo became a battle, as each of them played increasingly complex tunes, Kendall keeping pace to the point where Rojer laughed aloud and let her have the final round before he went into the next verse of the song. People threw up their hands and cheered when the last note fell and the players went silent. Throughout the audience, folk were wiping at tears.

He caught a flash of colour out of the corner of his eye, and turned back to see Amanvah and Sikvah approaching, his
Jiwah
Ka
in bright red and orange silks, his
Jiwah
Sen
in blue and green.
The cloth was opaque, but as thin and flowing as one would expect of Krasian silk. They were bedecked in warded jewellery, and wore their warded chokers.

They ascended the stage as the Hollowers stared and gasped. The cut was more modest than they wore in the bedchamber, but still showed far more skin than any Krasian woman, even a
dama’ting
,
would dare in public. Even by Northern standards, the attire was scandalous.

Amanvah bowed, presenting Rojer with his chinrest. ‘Thank you, my
Jiwah
Ka
,
’ he said, taking the rest and attaching it to the base of his fiddle.

He turned back to the crowd. ‘I’ve learned a new song while I was away. I had to translate it into Thesan and make a few changes, but it’s about something important to us all, and I think the warded couple would like to hear it.’ He nodded to Arlen. ‘I hope you enjoy it.’

And with that, he began the
Song
of
Waning
. There was no hesitation now, and Amanvah and Sikvah joined him smoothly. With the wards amplifying them and the sound shell directing the sound, the song shook the crowd with its power.

The other players stayed silent, afraid to join in as they listened intently. The Hollowers did the same, their eyes wide.

When it was over, there was utter silence. Rojer looked up at Arlen and raised an eyebrow. The man was more than a hundred yards away, but Rojer did not doubt he caught the gesture. He nodded, and began clapping loudly. Soon the entire throng was clapping along, hooting and stomping their feet.

‘Now,’ Rojer called with a smile, ‘let’s shut up and dance!’ He kicked back into another reel, and the other players fell over themselves to ready their instruments and join in.

Leesha could have cut the line. She was Mistress of the Hollow, and these were still her children. If she had walked right up to the couple, none would have barred her way. Indeed, they would bow from her path as soon as they saw her face.

But Leesha was in no hurry, content with time to sort through her thoughts. Her fingers worked nervously at the flowers as she watched Arlen and Renna. The young woman was smiling broadly, the thanks on her lips and in her eyes sincere as the Hollowers came to pay their respects.

You
don’t know a corespawned thing about her
,
Leesha told herself, but even as she did, she knew it for a lie. She did know one thing. Arlen loved her. If she truly cared for him, that should be enough.

Still, even with Rojer’s playing, the line moved alarmingly fast, and before long it was her turn and she stepped up before them.

Everyone froze for a moment, even Gared. Only Shamavah was unfazed. ‘Mistress Leesha Paper, daughter of Erny,’ she advised Renna as she wrote the name on her list.

Leesha smiled and gave a curtsy. ‘A bride should have a proper wreath for her hair,’ she said, holding up the circlet she’d woven from the flowers in Stela’s basket.

Renna looked at her, and her eyes said so much more than any words could. They shimmered, wet with tears. ‘It’s beautiful, thank you.’ She bowed as Leesha reached up to place it atop her head.

‘Blessings upon your marriage,’ Leesha said, turning to Arlen. He opened his arms, and she fell into them, squeezing him tightly once and then quickly letting go.

She hoped he didn’t notice the tears on his shirt. Wonda appeared, holding the reins of a heavily laden mule, and Leesha excused herself to hurry over to the girl.

‘Got all the good ones,’ Wonda said.

‘Thank you,’ Leesha said, handing a passing boy a twist of festival crackers and a match. His smile took in his ears and he gave a delighted shout, running off with his prize. ‘Do you think you could see about getting me a drink?’