Peter Brett - The Daylight War

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.’

There wasn’t precisely a crowd outside the inn when Arlen and Renna emerged late in the afternoon to head to the Holy House for dinner with Tender Hayes, but there were hundreds of folk milling about the shops and street corners, attempting to look as if they had reason to be there. A frantic buzz began as they caught sight of the pair.

Renna sighed. It seemed nothing Arlen could say would change the minds of some folk, even those who hung on his every word like it was Canon.

There had been a steady stream of knocks at their door through the day. Smitt and Stefny did their best to keep the petitioners from swarming, but they did not deny access to any they deemed important, and there were many of those. The Butchers came with heavy ledgers and rolled maps they spread on the floor, showing their progress in recruiting and clearing land. Dozens of southern hamlets had fled the Krasians as they spread out to overtake Rizon, many of them resettling entirely on their own greatwards in Hollow County. There were six greatwards surrounding the Hollow proper now, though only two, New Rizon and Journey’s End, were fully active. More were still in the early stages.

A glassblower named Benn brought beautiful warded items for Arlen to inspect, and Kendall had snuck in to talk about Angierian Jongleurs that had arrived with Count Thamos’ caravan.

‘Five masters from the Jongleurs’ Guild,’ Kendall said, ‘and a dozen apprentices. Claim they’re here to help Rojer get us better at controlling demons, but they seem more interested in gathering stories about you .’

And so it went. Warders, Messengers, Herb Gatherers, Speakers from refugee towns; one by one and in pairs, they came and went until Renna thought she might scream.

Arlen took it better, greeting many as friends and offering suggestions most folk seemed to take as commands. Still, it was a relief to be out of the room, even though it meant weathering the stares of countless eyes as they passed down the street.

Tender Hayes and Child Franq were waiting for them when they reached the Holy House. Hayes was clad in brown robes, but these were of a finer material than Renna had ever seen apart from her warded cloak. Over this the Tender wore a white chasuble, trimmed with green ivy needlework with a crooked staff stitched in glittering gold in the centre, surrounded by a circle of wards, many of which Renna did not recognize. His stole and skullcap were forest green, embroidered with wards in shining gold thread. His hands glittered with gold rings, one of which held a green stone the size of a cow’s eye.

Franq, too, was formally outfitted with a green warded skullcap and a white surplice over his tan robe, stitched in green-and-gold thread with the same ivy-and-staff design as Hayes. A gold necklace set with a large red stone hung at his throat.

They stood in stark contrast with Arlen, barefoot in his faded denim trousers and shirt, and Renna, who was clad scandalously by anyone’s standards, wearing only a high, leather vest and a calf-length skirt slit to the waist on either side. But if their plain clothes — or lack thereof in Renna’s case — gave offence, the men showed no sign.

‘Welcome to the House of the Creator, Mr Bales, Miss Tanner!’ Hayes said loudly, his voice carrying far. ‘We’re honoured you could join us on such short notice.’

Renna listened for a hint of sarcasm in the old man’s tone, but he seemed sincere. ‘Kind of you to have us.’ She drew a holy ward in the air. Arlen simply grunted and gave a nod.

Hayes’ smile shrank slightly. ‘I must congratulate you on your promising. As you can imagine, it has caused quite a stir among the townsfolk. I would be honoured to perform the ceremony, if you wish.’

‘That’s awful kind,’ Arlen said before Renna could respond, his voice carrying as easily as the Tender’s, ‘but I mean Tender Jona to do it on his return.’

There was another buzz that passed through the bystanders, now a crowd without doubt. Hayes pursed his lips, his mouth becoming a thin line that vanished in his thick beard and moustaches. ‘Close to him, were you?’

Arlen shrugged. ‘Din’t always agree with him, but Tender Jona done right by the Hollow when the need was great. It’s my hope he’ll return soon.’

The smile left Hayes’ eyes, and Franq cleared his throat. ‘Perhaps we should adjourn inside, Holiness. The others are already here. They await you in the dining hall.’

‘Very well, lead the way,’ Hayes said. Franq bowed and led them inside, closing the great doors firmly behind them and leaving the prying eyes and ears behind.

From the small narthex beneath the choir loft, Renna could see a nave meant to hold perhaps three hundred souls. The floors were plain stone, worn smooth by the passage of countless feet over the years. The pews were similarly worn, fine wood with concave depressions where the lacquer had been rubbed away by generations of posteriors. The support beams were carved with wards, as were the stained windows, but they were otherwise unadorned. The main altar was similarly plain, though fresh cloth had been thrown over the table and podium, emblazoned with the ivy and crooked staff of the Angierian Tenders. Thick carpeting had been put down beneath.