The Daylight War

Suddenly everyone was studying their feet and muttering about unfinished business. They left in a steady flow.

Jow Cutter came rushing up to them as Arlen turned to go. ‘I’m sorry. Din’t mean—’

Arlen cut him off. ‘Ent mad at you, Jow. Had it comin’ for being so mysterious last time and keepin’ to myself.’

Jow seemed relieved until Arlen raised a finger. ‘But that sound shell is for Tenders and Jongleurs and fiddle wizards, not any fool wants to shout. Don’t want to see you up there again, ’less you’re doing a song and dance. You ent got wood to chop, go ask the Butchers for something to do.’

Jow nodded eagerly and ran off.

Renna looked back to where the Inquisitor had stood, but he, too, was gone.

‘Place is more like the Brook than I care for,’ Renna said. ‘They gonna stake us, we don’t save them?’

‘Everyone needs the fool slapped out of ’em now and again, Ren,’ Arlen said as they led their horses into the stable behind the newly built inn. ‘Times ent been easy, and we can forgive if folk’re a bit excitable. Don’t need to reach for your knife every time.’

Renna stiffened at that. ‘Din’t know I was that obvious.’

Arlen shrugged. ‘It’s a big knife.’

A young man, thin but well muscled, came to take their horses. He took one glance at Twilight Dancer and his gaze snapped to Arlen.

‘Ay, Keet, it’s me,’ Arlen said. ‘Know space is tight, but my promised Renna and I need a room for a few weeks.’

Keet nodded. He quickly stabled the horses and led them through a small side entrance to a mudroom. ‘Wait here while I fetch my da.’

‘His da, Smitt, is the innkeeper and Town Speaker,’ Arlen said when he was gone. ‘Good man, you don’t cross him. More honest than Hog, but tough enough, time comes to haggle. His wife, Stefny, ent a bad sort in small doses, but she’s always got a look like she ent been to the outhouse in a week and wants to take it out on any who come too close. Quick to get preachy, too, tellin’ you this and that about how the Creator wants you to live, like someone out of Southwatch.’

Renna bristled. The Watches had been quick to condemn her to death and call it Creator’s will.

Moments later a big man, thickly bearded and strong at around sixty summers, came into the mudroom followed by a small, thin woman with grey hair pulled back in a tight bun. Arlen was right about her face. She looked like she’d just eaten a bitter and was ready to spit it out.

‘Thank the Creator you’re back,’ Smitt said, after the introductions were made.

‘Creator ent got anything to do with it,’ Arlen said. ‘Got business in the Hollow.’

‘Creator’s hand is in everything, great and small,’ Stefny said. The edge of a demon scar peeked from the high neck of her dress, and there was a hardness about her that recalled Selia Barren, Speaker of Tibbet’s Brook, who had defended Renna when no one else would. Renna had never met a woman stronger than Selia.

Without thinking about it, Renna reached out to her, brushing the scar lightly. ‘You fought, didn’t you?’ she asked. ‘When the wards failed last year.’

The woman’s eyes widened, but she nodded. ‘Couldn’t just stand by.’

‘Course not,’ Renna said, squeezing her shoulder. ‘Can’t ask any to do what you ent willing to do yourself.’

The pinched look left the woman’s face and she smiled. It was an awkward gesture, twisting against the set lines of her face. ‘Come. The inn’s busy, but we keep a couple rooms open for Messengers. Let’s get you settled and put some food in your bellies.’ She turned and led the way up a back stairwell as Arlen and Smitt gaped.

They had barely settled in their room and finished the breakfast Stefny sent up when there was a knock at the door. Arlen opened it to find one of Tender Hayes’ acolytes – the one who was always at his side.

He wore only plain sandals and tan robes, his warded surplice reserved for night. His trim brown beard was flecked with grey.

‘I am Child Franq, aide to Tender Hayes, High Inquisitor and spiritual advisor to His Highness, Count Thamos of Cutter’s Hollow,’ he said with a minimal bow. ‘Apologies for the interruption, Mr Bales,’ he nodded to Renna, ‘Miss Tanner, but His Holiness was most impressed by your words this morning, and requests the honour of your presence at dinner at six o’clock this evening in the dining hall of the Holy House. Formal dress.’

He turned to go, but Arlen’s reply checked him before he could leave. ‘You’ll have to extend our regrets.’

Franq froze for a moment, and when he turned back, he still had a touch of surprise on his face. He gave another shallow bow. ‘You mean to say you have … ah, more important plans on your calendar than seeing His Holiness?’

Arlen shrugged helplessly. ‘Afraid my calendar is quite full. Perhaps after the new moon.’

This time, Franq could not hide his incredulity. ‘That … that is your reply to His Holiness?’

‘Shall I put it in writing?’ Arlen asked. When Franq did not reply, he strode to the door, taking hold of it pointedly. Franq shuffled out, his face a mix of outrage and shock.

‘Ent he a bit old to be a Child?’ Renna asked when she heard his footsteps recede down the hall.

Arlen nodded. ‘Looked close to forty summers. Tenders usually take orders by thirty even if the council ent found them a flock.’

‘So what, he failed the test?’

Arlen shook his head. ‘Means Hayes is powerful, as Tenders go. So powerful that being a Child and his aide is loftier than tending your own flock. Politics.’ He spat the word.

‘Then what’s all this calendar business?’ Renna asked. ‘Din’t seem neighbourly. We just walked into town an hour ago. Ent planned so much as our next privy visit.’

‘Don’t care.’ Arlen waved irritably at the door. ‘Corespawned if I’m going to be bullied into a ripping formal dinner just so some Tender can look important. Got no patience for posturing.’

He dropped his voice to Franq’s low tenor. ‘“… mean to say you have … ah, more important plans than seeing His Holiness?” Bah!’

‘Do we have more important plans?’ Renna asked.

‘Thought we might spend a few hours knocking our heads against a wall,’ Arlen said. ‘That’s about the same as talkin’ to a Tender. They’ve all got that book memorized, but each one reads it different.’

‘Tender Harral from back in the Brook was a good man,’ Renna said. ‘Stood by me when the town was out for my blood.’

‘But not in front of you, Ren,’ Arlen said. ‘Best remember that. And Jeorje Watch, who was full of righteous fire at your staking, was a Tender, too.’

‘You don’t talk bad about the old Hollow Tender,’ Renna said.

Arlen shrugged. ‘Jona’s as fool as the rest of them. Maybe more, in some ways. But he always done right by folk. Earned his respect. Hayes ent earned anything.’

‘Ent given him much chance,’ Renna noted.

Arlen was silent a few moments, but at last he grunted. ‘Fine, I’ll send Keet to let him know we found space in our “calendar”. But ent no way we’re goin’ in formal dress.’