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.




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