“A princely gift,” Ashan noted in Krasian. “They are respectful, at least.” Jardir nodded.
“Our peoples could learn much from each other, if we kept peace by day as well as night,” Leesha said.
“I agree,” Jardir said, staring into her eyes. “Let us discuss that, among other things, at our tea.”
“Did you see his crown?” Leesha asked.
Rojer nodded. “And his metal spear. He’s the one Marick and the Painted Man were talking about.”
“Obviously,” Leesha said. “I meant the crown itself. The Painted Man has the same wards on his own forehead.”
“Really?” Rojer asked in surprise.
Leesha nodded, dropping her voice for only him to hear. “I don’t think Arlen told us everything he knows about that man.”
“Can’t believe you invited him to tea,” Wonda said.
“Should I have spat in his eye instead?” Leesha asked.
Wonda nodded. “Or had me shoot him. He’s killed half the men in Rizon, and had his men force themselves on every flowered woman in the duchy!”
Wonda stopped short, then turned to Leesha suddenly, leaning in close. “You’re going to drug him, aren’t you?” she asked, her eyes glittering. “Take him and his men prisoner?”
“I’m going to do no such thing,” Leesha said. “Everything we know about that man is hearsay. All we know for sure is that he and his men helped us fight off two hundred wood demons. He’s our guest until his actions show he should be treated otherwise.”
“Not to mention that kidnapping their Deliverer is the surest way under the sun to bring the Krasian army straight down on the Hollow,” Rojer added.
“There’s that, as well,” Leesha agreed. “Ask Smitt to clear his taproom, and summon the town council. Let everyone see and judge this supposed demon of the desert for themselves.”
“He’s not what I expected, at all,” Tender Jona said.
“Polite, like,” Gared agreed. “All falsefaced, like the servants in the duke’s palace.”
“It’s called manners, Gared,” Leesha said. “You and the other men could use a few lessons in them yourselves.”
“He has a point,” Rojer said. “I expected a monster, not some royal smiling through his oiled beard.”
“I know what you mean,” Leesha said. “I certainly didn’t expect him to be so handsome.”
Jona, Rojer, and Gared all stopped short. Leesha walked several more steps before she noticed they were not keeping pace. She looked back to find the men staring at her. Even Wonda had a surprised look on her face.
“What?” she asked.
“We’re just going to pretend you didn’t say that,” Rojer said after a moment. He resumed walking, the others following his lead. Leesha shook her head and followed.
“These greenlanders are worse than we thought,” Ashan said as they walked back to join the other men. “I cannot believe they take orders from a woman!”
“But what a woman!” Jardir exclaimed. “Powerful and exotic and beautiful as the dawn.”
“She dresses like a harlot,” Ashan said. “You should have killed her simply for daring to meet your eyes.”
Jardir hissed and waved the thought away. “It is death to kill a dama’ting.”
“Your pardon, Shar’Dama Ka, but she is not a dama’ting,” Ashan said. “She is a heathen. All these greenlanders are infidel, praying to a false god.”
Jardir shook his head. “They follow Everam whether they know it or not. There are only two Divine Laws in the Evejah: Worship one god, and dance alagai’sharak. Beyond that, every tribe is entitled to their own customs. Perhaps these greenlanders are not so different from us. Perhaps their customs are simply foreign to us.”
Ashan opened his mouth to protest, but a look from Jardir made it clear the discussion was over. Ashan’s mouth snapped shut, and he bowed. “Of course, if the Shar’Dama Ka says it, it must be so.”
“Go and tell the dal’Sharum to make camp,” Jardir ordered. “You, Hasik, Shanjat, and Abban will join me for their tea.”
“We’re bringing the khaffit?” Ashan scowled. “He is not worthy to take tea with men.”
“He is more fluent in their tongue than you are, my friend,” Jardir said, “and Hasik and Shanjat barely have a handful of greenland words between them. This is the very reason I chose to bring him. He will prove invaluable at this meeting.”
It seemed the whole town had gathered around Smitt’s Tavern by the time the Krasians arrived. Leesha let only the town council and their spouses attend, but coupled with Smitt’s small army of children and grandchildren who were setting and serving, they outnumbered the Krasians greatly.
The crowd rumbled ominously as Jardir walked to the tavern. “Go back to the sand!” someone shouted, and many voices grunted in agreement.
If the Krasians were bothered at all, they gave no sign. They strutted through the crowd with their heads held high, unafraid. Only one, a rotund man clad in bright colors and limping on a cane, looked at the Hollowers warily as he passed. Leesha stood by the door, ready to rush out if the crowd turned ugly.
“You’re right, he is handsome,” Elona said at her ear.
Leesha turned to her in surprise. “Who told you I said that?” Elona only smiled.
“Welcome,” Leesha said, when Jardir made it to the door. She and her mother gave identical curtsies. Jardir looked at Elona, then glanced over to Leesha. They were similar enough that no one could mistake their relation.
“Your…sister?” Jardir asked.
“My mother, Elona,” Leesha rolled her eyes while Elona tittered and allowed Jardir to kiss her hand. “And my father, Ernal,” she nodded to her father. Jardir bowed to him.
“Allow me to introduce my councilors,” Jardir said, gesturing to the men behind him. “You have met Damaji Ashan. These are kai’Sharum Shanjat and my dal’Sharum bodyguard, Hasik.” The men bowed with the introduction. Jardir made no effort to introduce the fifth member of his entourage, moving on down the receiving line with his men, bowing and making introductions.
The fifth was unlike any of the others. Where they were lean, he was fat. Where they dressed in somber, solid colors, he was clad as brightly as any Jongleur. And where they were fit and strong, he leaned on his crutch so heavily that it seemed he would fall over without it.
Leesha opened her mouth to greet the man as he entered, but his eyes passed over her, and he bowed to her father. “A pleasure to meet you at last, Ernal Paper.”
Erny looked at him curiously. “Do I know you?”
“Abban am’ Haman am’Kaji,” the man introduced himself.
“I…used to sell you paper,” Erny stumbled after a moment. “I, ah…actually still have your last order sitting in my shop. I was waiting on payment when the Messengers stopped coming from Rizon.”
“Six hundred sheets of your daughter’s flower press, I believe,” Abban said.
“Night, that was you?!” Leesha exclaimed. “Do you know how many hours I slaved over those sheets, only to have them sitting in the dryhouse like…like compost!”