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.