The Daylight War

Gared grunted and turned to Yon. ‘Keep watch on the caravan while we’re inside. No one bothers ’em, but no one leaves, either. Extra eyes on the ones in black.’

Yon nodded. ‘Ay, boy. Don’t fret on it.’

Rojer appeared a moment later. In the Krasian fashion, Amanvah followed a step behind him; Kaval, Coliv, and Enkido a step behind her; Shamavah a step behind them.

‘Where is Sikvah?’ Leesha asked. ‘Is she well?’

Amanvah shook her head with a tsk. ‘You play at understanding our ways, Mistress Paper, but your knowledge is obviously lacking if you think a man should bring his Jiwah Sen to court.’

Amanvah’s tone was haughty as ever, but Leesha could sense the anger beneath. She bowed. ‘I meant no insult.’ Amanvah did not reply.

‘His Highness has not summoned you,’ Captain Gamon told her. ‘You and your savages can wait in the courtyard.’

Amanvah’s gaze snapped to him, her dama’ting serenity broken at the rudeness. Kaval and Enkido tensed, but she flicked a hand to calm them. ‘My father is Ahmann asu Hoshkamin am’Jardir am’Kaji. Shar’Dama Ka and Deliverer, who will unite mankind. He will take it a grave insult if I am left rotting on the pillows by some minor princeling.’

‘I don’t care if your father is the Creator Himself,’ Gamon snapped. ‘You’ll wait until you’re called for.’

Amanvah’s delicate eyebrows seemed to thread together, but she did not argue further.

Leesha felt the situation deteriorating and turned to Evin, absently stroking the back of his wolfhound, its massive shoulders almost as high as his. She had disliked Evin when they were young – he had been cruel and selfish and never one to be counted – but like so many folk, the coming of the Painted Man had changed him. ‘Evin, will you see my parents home, please?’

Evin nodded, springing into the driver’s seat of their carriage himself. Shadow followed alongside the carriage, and the horses stamped and pulled at their harnesses, whinnying in fear.

Evin gave a shrill whistle. ‘Ay, Shadow! Go and find Callen!’ The wolfhound gave a bark that sounded like a thunderclap and ran off. Evin pulled hard at the reins, getting the horses under control, then gave them a crack and the carriage rode off. The rest of the caravan was left at loose ends under the watchful eyes of the Cutters and Wooden Soldiers as she and the others passed through the gates.

The count’s keep was still under construction, but the foundations were laid and portions of his manse were already raised and functional. A group of Wooden Soldiers gathered at the main entrance, spears and shields at the ready.

Leesha moved over to Gared, dropping her voice. ‘Gared, if the count tries to give you a title and a uniform, don’t accept right away.’

‘Why not?’ Gared said, not bothering to keep her hushed tones.

‘Because you’d be giving away our army, you idiot,’ Rojer said, coming up on his other side. His voice, too, was too low for the others to hear.

Gared turned an angry glare the Jongleur’s way. ‘Just a big joke to you, too, ent I? Painted Man told me to keep you safe while he was gone, Rojer. I swore by the sun and promised I would. Stood in the way of charging demons and Krasians and Creator knows what else to keep it.’

He loomed forward suddenly, and the smaller man, his bearing so proud a moment before, shrank back from the sheer menace of his presence. ‘But he never told me I had to eat yur shit, and you been takin’ a lot of liberty. Way I see it, him back in town means my promise is kept and done. Watch yur own back from now on, you crippled little runt. And next time you call me idiot? Gonna put your teeth out.’ He licked two fingers and held them up high enough to catch the sun topping the count’s walls. ‘Swear by the sun.’

‘Gared,’ Leesha said carefully, as Rojer stood shocked. ‘You have every right to be angry about how we’ve taken you for granted, and for my part, I’m sorry. I blame you for everything wrong in my life sometimes, but truer is, you didn’t do anything a million other boys haven’t done. I forgive you. You’ve made up for it many times over.’

Gared grunted. ‘Corespawned right.’

‘But Rojer has the right of it,’ Leesha said. ‘If you let the count give you a title, it’s the same as saying the Cutters are part of the Angierian army.’

Gared shrugged. ‘Ent we? You two act like I’m the dim one, but it seems to me like you’ve forgotten whose side we’re on, carrying on in the sheets with Krasians and forgetting who was there for us when we needed them.’

‘It sure as the Core wasn’t Duke Rhinebeck,’ Rojer said.

Gared nodded. ‘Know that. Was the Deliverer done it. Painted Man’s letting the count lead the Hollow for now, that’s good enough for me. Tomorrow he says chop the count’s head off, I’ll do that, too.’

‘And all the Cutters with you,’ Leesha said in disgust.

‘Ay, that’s right. They follow me. Not you, Leesh.’ He nodded to Rojer. ‘And not fiddle-boy here, either. You two can go back to pickin’ herbs and spinning reels. The men got this.’

‘Creator help us,’ Leesha muttered as he turned his back and strode ahead.

‘The Hollow has changed since you were last here, mistress.’

Thamos sat on a heavy throne atop a raised dais at the head of his receiving hall. Still under construction, the walls and high ceiling were partly bare wood and partly beams covered in heavy tarp. The air was thick with dust and the smell of mixing crete, amplified by her headache. Freshly swept sawdust crunched beneath her shoes. Still the room was daunting in its sheer size, and would likely be breathtaking when fully appointed.

Adding to the trappings of power, the count was dressed in full armour, his spear close to hand. His beard was impeccably groomed to accentuate a sharp, handsome jaw, his waistline trim, and his shoulders broad. He looked every inch a noble soldier. A servant stood behind him, holding the count’s helm and shield as if he might be called to battle at any moment.

At Thamos’ right hand was Tender Hayes, the man Araine had promised in their meeting those months ago. Honest in his faith and fair, she said, but Angierian in his heart.

The Duchess Mum was behind everything the Angierians did, whether they knew it or not. Leesha had witnessed the woman’s power first-hand on her last visit to court. The duke and elder princes were kept in line by her first minister, Janson, but Leesha had long suspected that the youngest reported directly to her.

In that meeting, Araine had promised to send Thamos and his soldiers as well, but left out the part about making him count.

I should have seen this coming, Leesha thought. The woman’s played me for a fool again, even after scolding me to keep up with the dance.

In front of the throne, Lord Arther stood at a small writing podium, pen in hand with an open ledger and a fresh pot of ink. Captain Gamon stood to the left, straight-backed with his spear planted firmly on the floor. Behind him, a footman held his helm and shield.

‘Changed quite a bit it seems, Your Highness,’ Leesha said with a curtsy. ‘We don’t normally surround our citizens with drawn bows on their return from a journey.’

‘Our citizens did not used to go off into our enemies’ midst without permission from the crown,’ Thamos said.