‘That’s gonna happen no matter what, and you know it,’ Elona said. ‘Best you can do is guide the where and how.’
Leesha grimaced. ‘There is nothing in this world I hate more than when your words make sense, Mother.’
Elona cackled.
‘Making the Painted Man think it’s his might not be possible,’ Leesha said. ‘He won’t touch me any more. He’s terrified of making a child tainted by his demon magic.’
Elona shrugged. ‘So tell him you’re taking pomm tea. Leach some leaves and leave them out where he can see. Tell him it’s just a release.’
Three hundred fifty thousand. Three hundred and fifty-one thousand. Three hundred and fifty-two thousand …
Leesha shook her head. ‘He’s not that gullible, Mother.’
‘Demonshit,’ Elona said. ‘He’s a man, Leesha. Every single one of them needs his pecker put down now and again. Lure him back by using your mouth on him once or twice. Make him feel safe, then get him drunk and pounce. It’ll be over before he knows what hit him.’ She smirked. ‘Do a good enough job, and he’ll even be back for more.’
Leesha felt her stomach roil again. Was she really considering this? ‘And in less than a year, when he sees the child has an olive tint to its skin and an upward twist to its eyes?’
Elona shrugged. ‘Never know. Babe might take after you. There’s nothing of Erny in you that the eye can tell, and that’s for the best.’
‘Better I got his heart,’ Leesha agreed. ‘And what’s between his ears.’
‘Ay, but you got my stones,’ Elona said, ‘and you can thank the Creator for that. The day the Krasians come to the Hollow, the only thing Ernal Paper is going to do is piss himself. You ent helpless, but when the time comes, you’re going to want a strong man at your side.’
Leesha wanted to shout at her, but could not find the energy. Her mother had been making more and more sense of late. Was she changing, or was Leesha?
Seven hundred thousand. Seven hundred and one thousand. Seven hundred and two thousand …
‘I don’t trust the Painted Man any more than the demon of the desert,’ Leesha said.
Elona shrugged again. ‘Then find another. I was wrong about the fiddle-boy. He’s got power and would stand by you even if the babe came out with Jardir’s forked beard, but you’ve missed your chance there – unless you want to play a dirtier game.’
‘Rojer’s marriage is in enough trouble without my help,’ Leesha said.
Elona nodded. ‘There’s really only one other choice, then.’
Leesha looked at her mother, and saw a triumphant smile on her face. ‘Mother …’
Elona held up her hands. ‘You told me not to say his name and I won’t, but you think on it. He’s strong as an ox and braver than any other man in the Hollow. The Cutters all look to him when the Painted Man ent about. And he loves you. Always has, in his own brutish way. All that, with a pea-sized brain. You could rule the Hollow through a man like that.’
One million, Leesha thought, turning to look at the vial.
Her heart fell.
A handful of herbs leached in boiling water calmed Leesha’s stomach, but nothing she dared take had the slightest effect on the throbbing pain in her head. When she and Elona finally emerged from her room, they found Gared, Wonda, and Erny in the taproom already, waiting by empty bowls of porridge.
Shamavah was haggling with the innkeeper. As usual, she found fault with everything, and based on Sim’s posture, he looked inclined to let her name her price, if she would only go.
Without shifting her attention, Shamavah pointed a finger and one of the black-clad dal’ting women moved to take Leesha’s bag. Normally she would have protested, but Leesha was exhausted, head hurting and knees weak. A bowl had been set out for her, but she ignored it, waiting impatiently. All she wanted was to climb into her cart and be left alone.
In truth, no one seemed much inclined towards talking, looking around uncomfortably as Shamavah berated Sim over things that had been totally acceptable. It went on and on until Leesha wanted to scream.
‘Night, just ripping pay him, already!’ she snapped at last. ‘The rooms were fine!’ Everyone jumped at the sound.
Shamavah bowed. ‘As the intended wishes.’ The words were tight. She quickly counted out the coins, and they were on their way. Enkido, standing atop the steps, knocked on a door then, and Amanvah, Sikvah, and Rojer emerged.
Rojer’s wives surrounded him like bodyguards as they went down the steps and out the door, glaring as if daring Leesha to approach.
Not that Leesha had the slightest desire to do so. The pendulum had swung back and forth so many times last night that she could barely remember who was mad at who for what. She could not get to her carriage fast enough.
Light pained her when the headaches were this bad. Just the few feet from the porch awning to the carriage steps felt like Ahmann’s description of the beating sun on the cracked flats of the Krasian desert. Inside, she pulled the curtains close.
Erny took the far corner, closing his curtains without being asked, though he left himself a sliver of sunlight to illuminate the book on his lap. Elona sat across from her but was blissfully silent, staring at nothing, her thoughts far away.
She was still beautiful, Leesha had to admit. So much so that one who did not know her might take that stare for the blank one of a pretty, dim-witted thing. Like her every other pose, Elona had cultivated that look. She was anything but dim-witted, as many learned to their regret. Everyone always said Leesha got her brains from her father, but she wasn’t so sure. Elona Paper was many things, but she was no fool.
There was no music from Rojer’s carriage as the morning wore on, nor cries of pleasure. But there was shouting. Plenty of that. And worse, long painful silences.
When they stopped for lunch, Leesha stepped out long enough to make water and have a bowl brought to her carriage. She caught a glimpse of Rojer stretching his legs, but kept her distance so as not to provoke Sikvah, who stood close by.
Krasians of all castes grew silent as Rojer drew near, pointing and whispering as he passed. Word of his exploits had obviously spread.
Leesha felt much better by evening. Without asking, the Krasians had bypassed the next hamlet and circled the carts some miles down the road. Leesha moved about the camp, inspecting the wards, but the Krasian circles were strong. Sharum patrolled the perimeter, killing any demons that drew near with neat spear thrusts from behind the safety of the wards. Wonda did the same, picking off corelings with her bow to clear the area. Gared moved in each time, finishing them quickly with chops of his warded axe and machete.
Leesha looked at him, thinking of what her mother had said. Indeed, Gared was handsome, and Leesha had loved him once, before he proved selfish and possessive to a degree she could not abide.
But did that make him so different from the other men she’d known? None of them had ever truly met her needs. Was Gared any worse than Rojer, Marick, or Arlen, or even Ahmann?
She was given her own tent, its carpeted floor warm and the cluster of pillows that served as the bed inviting. Wonda stood watch outside the flap, her bow ready.
At her request, the girl had provided Leesha with a small bowl of demon ichor from one of her kills, glowing brightly in wardsight. Leesha took a horsehair brush and her plainest shawl, painting wards of misdirection and confusion, adding wards gleaned the night Inevera had used magic to trap Leesha in her pillow chamber. Wards that would direct the power towards humans as well as demons.