Instead she gave him the imperious stare she had learned from Inevera. ‘The Northern witch understands you, Dama,’ she said. ‘What is your name, that I may tell Ahmann of your words of welcome?’
The cleric’s eyes widened in shock. In Krasia, unmarried women spoke only when spoken to, and would not dare take such a tone with a dama, who could – and often would – kill them for such an affront.
But Leesha had spoken the words in Krasian, showing she knew their ways, and her use of the Deliverer’s given name showed a familiarity that would make all but the most powerful Damaji wet their robes.
The dama hesitated, pride and the instinct for self-preservation at war on his face. In the end he bowed again, this time so deeply his long beard swept the dust. ‘Dama Anju. Apologies, Holy Intended. I meant no disrespect.’
‘In my land, those who mean no disrespect remember to speak respectfully,’ Leesha said. She kept her words simple, her Krasian far from fluent. ‘Now remove that woman’s body and return it to her family to lay to rest according to their own custom. This is the wedding day of the Deliverer’s eldest daughter to Rojer asu Jessum am’Inn am’Hollow, and its presence is an offence.’
She was not entirely within her rights to speak for Rojer, but by calling him ‘am’Hollow’ – rather than the proper ‘am’Bridge’ for his birth city of Riverbridge – she had named him as Hollow tribe, which made them family in the eyes of the Krasians.
Dama Anju’s eyebrows began to twitch. Only dama’ting dared take such a tone and order dama about, and then only because it was clearly stated in the Evejah that it was death and a denial of Heaven to harm or physically hinder one in any way. Leesha was no dama’ting, but her tone made it clear she believed her position as holy intended accorded her the same rights.
The dama stopped breathing, and Leesha knew she had pushed him too far. She watched his face redden as his anger built and reached into her apron for a pinch of Bruna’s blinding powder. He would come at her in a moment, and she would put him down before everyone.
Anju began to move his feet.
‘Do not,’ Kaval warned, his voice a soft murmur.
The dama looked to the drillmaster and saw Kaval’s hand was on his spear. There were other sounds, and Anju turned to see the dal’Sharum of Leesha’s escort had done the same. Wonda had her bow trained on him, and Gared had his axe and machete in hand.
Anju eased into a more submissive posture, but his face was swollen and his breath quick and shallow. Leesha could not resist twisting the knife, meeting his eyes boldly. ‘To honour this holy occasion, it would please the son of Jessum if you released seven chin slaves, one for each pillar of Heaven.’
The impotent rage she saw in the dama’s slate eyes was bittersweet. The barest taste of what you deserve, she thought.
Leesha swept away before Anju could respond further, heading for the inn. In her wake, she heard her orders being carried out, and kept her face serene, showing nothing of what she felt.
She was learning.
‘Here we go again,’ Leesha groaned as the singing stopped.
Rojer and his wives were a week married, but still the sounds from Rojer’s carriage were a constant pendulum between the young women’s singing and their wails of passion.
Sikvah began to cry out not long after, and Amanvah soon joined her. Leesha put her head in her hands, massaging her temples. The headache cycle had continued all week. The pain had receded, but there was tightness in the muscles around her left eye, a constant threat that it could return in force at any moment. ‘Night, can’t those tramps shut it for five minutes?’
‘Not likely.’ Elona sighed wistfully. ‘Ent nothing like the dangle of an eighteen-year-old boy. They harden every time the wind blows, and get right back up ten minutes after you put them down.’
‘Seems more like every three hours,’ Leesha muttered.
Elona laughed. ‘Still gets my respect, and I don’t give it easy. That cock’s got two young brides to please and from the sound of it, he lasts a lot longer than most boys his age … and some a good deal older.’ Her eyes flicked to Erny, who looked like he wanted to crawl between the seat cushions. ‘I take it back. You might have done well to keep that one for yourself.’
The cacophony increased, and Leesha shook her head. ‘They’re exaggerating. No one wails like that.’
‘Well of course,’ Elona said. ‘Any new bride with half a mind knows to make her husband feel like king and explorer both, charting new territory to rule.’ She looked at Leesha. ‘Still, I think there’s a bit of green in your eyes. Missing your Krasian lover?’
Leesha felt her face redden, and Erny looked at the door as if considering leaping from the moving carriage. ‘It’s not like that, Mother. I just don’t trust them. They’re spinning a spell around Rojer, but they’re still loyal to Inevera. A fool could see it.’
‘Clearly not,’ Elona said, ‘since the professional fool is missing it, though you’re right enough. It’s what I’d do. You, too. Did you leave the demon of the desert with a single seed in his pods before you left?’
Leesha sighed and put her head out the window, breathing deeply of the fresh air as they trundled down the road. ‘I’ll just be glad when we’re safe in the Hollow. We’ll be leaving Everam’s Bounty tomorrow.’
‘Good riddance,’ Elona said, spitting from her own window.
‘Ay,’ Leesha said, ‘but the Sharum that keep us so safe here will attract attention we don’t want outside the borders. Bandits and duke’s men will be looking at our caravan hungrily, and Ahmann was right that twenty warriors might not be enough.’
‘He offered more,’ Elona noted.
Leesha nodded. ‘But twenty warriors, however skilled, can only cause so much mischief in the Hollow. Any more begins to be a problem, and we have problems enough. Have you seen a single boy over the age of six since we left the city?’
Elona shook her head. ‘They’ve all been taken for Hanna Pats, or whatever.’
‘Hannu Pash,’ Leesha said. ‘Training and indoctrination. They’ll speak Krasian like natives before long, and hold to the Evejan ways. In ten years, they will have an army that can crush the Free Cities like a child crushes an anthill.’
‘Creator above,’ Rojer gasped, gulping at the skin of cool water Sikvah brought to his lips. Amanvah stroked his sweat-matted hair, cooing softly as she nibbled his ear.
He had thought the Krasian women repressed, and perhaps they were in public, but alone with their husbands, it was a different tale. In the privacy of their carriage, Amanvah and Sikvah removed their plain robes, dressing in bright silks as garish as a Jongleur’s motley. Half the cloth was so thin it was transparent, and the rest not much thicker, lined with thread-of-gold, lace, or embroidery. They still wore veils, but these were ornamental – colourful, diaphanous silk starting at the tip of their noses and ending just past their lips. Their hair was uncovered, oiled, and bound in gold.
‘Our husband wields his spear better than a Sharum,’ Amanvah said. Blood had marked her a virgin on their wedding day, but she was no less skilled at ‘pillow dancing’ than Sikvah.