Peter Brett - The Daylight War

‘I am saddened to see you leave, mistress,’ Abban said. ‘I will miss our conversations.’

Rojer fell into the wedding carriage with a contented sigh. It was of Rizonan make, fine wood and gilded paint with a metal suspension to take away the jolts and bumps of the road. A nobleman’s carriage, and a rich one at that.

But the Krasians had made alterations, removing the seats and covering the floor with thick colourful carpets and embroidered silk pillows. The walls and ceiling were covered in dark velvet of red and purple, and scented herbs hung from the ceiling in bronze pots punched with holes. The windows were glass, but could be cracked to let in air, as they were now, but curtained in velvet for privacy. Bronze and glass oil lamps hung from the walls, lighting and extinguishing themselves with the twist of a key.

Rojer had been in brothels less suited to lovemaking.

They don’t want me to waste any time, it seems. He couldn’t deny that he was eager for it, as well. Sikvah had lain with him already, but refused to let him spend in her until they were wed, and Amanvah was still a virgin. He would have to be gentle with her.

He took a pencil and notebook from his bag of marvels, continuing his notes on the Song of Waning . He could read well enough, and write in a cramped hand, but neither letters nor the musical symbols Arrick taught him came as naturally as fiddling.

‘Not everyone can hear a song once and play it forever,’ Arrick scolded when he had complained of the lessons, punctuating the advice with a clout to the ear. ‘You want to sell a song, you’ve got to be able to write it down.’

Rojer had hated his master in that moment, but now he was thankful for the lesson. He had already put down the tune and the meter of the lyrics. It would take time to translate the meaning fully, but they would be two weeks at best on the road to the Hollow, with nothing else to do.

Rojer smiled, stroking one of the silken pillows. Well, almost nothing.

He heard voices, and peeked through a crack in the curtains, seeing Amanvah and Sikvah approaching with a pair of white-clad dama , a strange-looking Sharum , and two other women.

Rojer immediately recognized Jardir’s son Asome and his nephew Asukaji. The warrior must be Amanvah’s bodyguard, Enkido. He wore the standard warrior blacks, but his wrists and ankles were bound in golden shackles that seemed permanently welded in place.

The women he did not recognize. Both wore black robes, but one had a veil of white like Sikvah’s. The other’s face was bare, indicating she was unmarried and unbetrothed.

Asome and Amanvah walked in front, arguing. They stopped in front of the carriage, whispering harsh words that Rojer could not understand. Asome grabbed Amanvah by the shoulders and shook her, his face a scowl. Her supposed bodyguard looked on but did nothing. It seemed doubtful any Krasian would dare strike the Deliverer’s son, much less a lowly Sharum .

Rojer felt a chill of fear. He knew Asome could kill him. He had seen dama fight — the least of them could use his head as a tackleball. But he couldn’t just watch. He ran through his mummer’s repertoire, thinking of the most fearless person he knew and putting him on like a cloak.

He kicked open the door of the carriage, startling everyone.

‘Get your hands off my wife!’ Rojer said in the low growl of the Painted Man. He flicked his good hand, and a throwing knife appeared in it.

Asukaji hissed and looked ready to leap at him, but Asome let Amanvah go and used a hand to forestall him.

‘Apologies, son of Jessum,’ Asome said, though he did not bow. His Thesan was clear, but heavily accented like Amanvah’s. ‘A disagreement among siblings, only. I meant no disrespect on your wedding day.’ The anger in his tone was barely contained. Had any man ever dared threaten him with a knife before?

‘Got a funny way of showin’ it,’ Gared said, appearing off to one side of the carriage. His huge axe was held casually in one hand, his warded machete in easy reach. Out of the corner of his eye, Rojer saw Wonda quietly appear to the other side, bow in hand. Rojer knew she could nock and fire an arrow in the blink of an eye.

Asukaji moved to interpose himself between her and Asome. There was a cold calm about him, and Rojer wondered if even Wonda could fire before the dama reached her, and if she would hit anything if she did. All around, their dal’Sharum escort was watching.

Rojer gave a shallow bow, little more than a nod, tucking his knife away in a blink and showing his empty hand. ‘You honour me, brother, by coming personally to bless our wedding day and present your sister and cousin to me.’

Amanvah gave him a warning look. Rojer knew he was walking a line taking such a familiar tone with men who would as soon kill as speak to him, but he had a handle on the scene now. The dama would not dare attack the Deliverer’s new son-in-law in public as long as he kept his words polite.

‘Indeed,’ Asome agreed, though there was nothing of agreement in his tone. His return bow was the exact depth and duration as Rojer’s. Asukaji did the same. ‘Blessings upon this day … brother.’

Asome looked at Amanvah and said a few words in Krasian, then the two dama turned on their heels and strode off to the collective relief of all.

‘What did he say?’ Rojer asked.

Amanvah hesitated, until he turned and met her eyes. ‘He said, “We will speak of this another time.”’

Rojer nodded as if it were of no import. ‘It would please me, wife, if you would introduce the rest of your escort.’

Amanvah bowed, gesturing for the other women to step forward. First was the woman with the white veil. Up close, Rojer could see she was young, perhaps no older than Sikvah.

‘My sister-in-law and cousin Ashia,’ Amanvah said, ‘firstborn daughter of Damaji Ashan and the Deliverer’s eldest sister, holy Imisandre, Jiwah Ka to my brother Asome.’

Rojer hid his surprise as the woman bowed. ‘Blessings upon your wedding day, son of Jessum. My heart is filled with joy to see my blessed cousin wed to you.’ Her tone held none of Asome’s insincerity. Quite the contrary, she looked as if she might kiss him.

He turned to the other young woman, her uncovered face showing her to be of an age with the others.

‘My cousin Shanvah,’ Amanvah said. ‘Firstborn daughter of kai’Sharum Shanjat, leader of the Spears of the Deliverer, and my father’s middle sister, holy Hoshvah.’

‘My blessings as well, son of Jessum.’ Shanvah’s smooth bow was so low her nose nearly touched the ground. Rojer knew trained dancers who would give anything for such strength and flexibility.

‘The four of us have trained together under Enkido in the Dama’ting Palace since we were children,’ Amanvah said, nodding to include Sikvah. ‘They have come to hold their goodbyes until the last moment, as it may be some time before we are together again.’

Enkido bowed deeply to Rojer as Amanvah indicated him.

‘Rojer asu Jessum am’Inn am’Bridge,’ Rojer said, giving his name in the Krasian fashion as he stuck out his hand. The warrior looked at it curiously a moment, then reached out and clasped his wrist. His fingers were like bars of steel. He did not reply.

‘Enkido is a eunuch, husband,’ Amanvah said. ‘He has no spear, so he may be trusted to guard us in your absence, and no tongue to whisper our secrets.’

‘You let them cut off your tree?!’ Gared blurted in shock. All eyes turned to him, and he blushed. Enkido only looked at him mutely.

‘Enkido does not speak your heathen tongue,’ Amanvah said, ‘so he is unaware of your rudeness.’