Peter Brett - The Daylight War

Rojer untied the bright cloth wrapping, discovering the small wooden box she had held early that morning. ‘But when I asked them if I should marry you, they told me yes, and when I asked what marriage gift could help you to greatness, they guided me to this.’

Suddenly Rojer felt boorish. She had been spending all that time alone making him a marriage present? Creator, was he expected to provide presents as well? No one had told him that. He made a mental note to ask Shamavah the custom when they stopped for the night, and get her advice on a gift, if need be.

Amanvah bowed as deeply as he had ever seen, her head nearly touching the carpeted floor of the carriage. ‘Please accept my apologies, for taking so long presenting it to you. I began the work two weeks ago, thinking I would have months to prepare. The dice did not predict that you would move to speaking our vows so quickly.’

Rojer ran the three fingertips of his right hand over the smooth surface of the box, feeling the wards that had been burned into the wood before it was lacquered. Some were wards of protection, but most he did not know. Rojer had never had any skill at warding.

What’s inside? he wondered. What did the demon dice command her to make him? An image flashed in his mind of Enkido. If it’s a pair of golden shackles, I am grabbing my bag of marvels and going straight out the door, moving carriage or no.

He opened the box and his eyes widened. Inside, on a bed of silk, was a fiddle’s chinrest of polished rosewood with a moulded gold centre, affixed to a golden tail clamp. The piece was covered in wards, etched into the gold and cut sharply into the lacquer of the wood, filled with gold filigree. It was beautiful.

Like all modern instruments, Arrick and Jaycob’s fiddles had chinrests, but the ancient instrument Rojer had taken from the Painted Man’s treasure room did not, perhaps dating back to days before the innovation. A chinrest allowed the player to hold the fiddle in place with just his neck, freeing his hands for other things if necessary.

‘The piece comes from Duke Edon’s instrument maker, designed for the royal herald.’ Rojer reached out reverently to touch the object as Amanvah spoke. ‘It has taken me many nights to ward it and infuse it with hora .’

Rojer recoiled, snatching his hand back as if from a hot kettle. ‘ Hora? There’s a demon bone in that?’

Amanvah laughed, a musical sound he heard all too infrequently. Is that real , Rojer wondered, or just part of the mask?

‘It cannot harm you, husband. The evil will of Nie dies with the alagai , but their bones continue to carry the magic of Ala, made by Everam long before Nie created the abyss to pervert it.’

Rojer pursed his lips. ‘Still …’

‘The bone is little more than a thin slice,’ Amanvah said. ‘Bound in wards and solid gold.’

‘What does it do?’ Rojer asked.

Amanvah smiled so widely Rojer could see it through her translucent veil, and even to his practised eye, it seemed truly genuine and sent a thrill through him.

‘Try it,’ Amanvah whispered, lifting his fiddle and handing it to him.

Rojer hesitated a moment, then shrugged and took the instrument, affixing the clamp to the tail piece where the resonance would be greatest. He turned the threaded barrels carefully to tighten it without damaging the wood, then set it beneath his chin, holding the instrument without the use of his hands. There was a slight tingle where it touched his chin, like a limb gone to pins and needles.

Rojer waited a moment. ‘What’s supposed to happen?’

Amanvah laughed again. ‘Play!’

Rojer took the bow in his crippled hand and the frets in the other, playing a quick tune. He was shocked at the resonance. The instrument had become twice as loud. ‘That’s amazing.’

‘And that is with most of the wards covered by your chin,’ Amanvah said. ‘Lift away and the sound will only grow.’

Rojer cocked an eyebrow at her, then went back to playing. At first, he kept the wood covered, and the instrument seemed little louder than normal. Slowly, he lifted his chin, revealing some of the wards, and the volume began to increase. He lifted more, and the sound doubled, and doubled again, rattling his teeth even as his wives moved to cover their ears. Finally, he had to stop from sheer pain, with much of the rest still covered.

‘This will drown out your beautiful voices,’ Rojer said.

Amanvah shook her head, lifting her veil to show a golden choker with a warded ball at its centre, resting in the hollow of her throat. Sikvah revealed a similar bit of jewellery at her own neck. ‘We will match you, husband.’

Rojer shook his head, stunned. Perhaps bone magic and dice ent so bad after all.

‘I don’t know what to say,’ he managed at last. ‘This is the most amazing gift anyone has ever given me, but I haven’t anything to give in return.’

Amanvah and Sikvah laughed. ‘Have you already forgotten the song we just sang?’ Amanvah said. ‘It was your marriage gift before our holy father.’ She laid a hand on his arm. ‘We will sing it with you tonight for the chin .’

Rojer nodded, suddenly racked with guilt. They had no idea what the song would say to the Laktonians.

The village of Greenmeadow appeared deserted when their caravan arrived, fields empty of humans and livestock. The few fleeting glimpses of movement vanished quickly over hills and into the woods. They left the caravan on the Messenger road while the carriages headed into the village proper. Even then they saw no one.

‘I do not like this,’ Kaval said. Coliv said something to him in Krasian, and he grunted.

‘What’s that?’ Leesha asked.

‘He says the chin make only slightly less noise than thunder. They are all around us, watching from every window and around every street corner. I will dispatch him to scout our path …’

‘You won’t,’ Leesha said.

‘He is a Krevakh Watcher,’ Kaval said. ‘I assure you, mistress, the greenlanders will never even know he is there.’

‘I’m not worried about them,’ Leesha said. ‘I want him where I can see him. These people have reason for caution, but we aren’t going to do anything to threaten them.’

A moment later the town square came into view, surrounded by homes and shopfronts. There were five men waiting on the inn steps, two with nocked hunting bows, and two more with long pitchforks.

Leesha called a halt and stepped out of her carriage. Immediately she was joined by Rojer, Gared, Wonda, Amanvah, Enkido, Shamavah, and Kaval. ‘Let me do the talking,’ Leesha said as they approached the inn.

‘They do not appear interested in talking, mistress,’ Kaval said, nodding to both sides, where she saw bowmen at every window around the town square.

‘They will not shoot unless we give them cause,’ Leesha said, wishing she was as confident as her words. She spread her pocketed apron so that all could see she was a Herb Gatherer. Rojer’s patchwork cloak announced him as a Jongleur — another point in their favour.

Rojer and Enkido placed themselves between the bows and Amanvah, with Gared in turn protecting Rojer. Leesha was similarly surrounded by Kaval and Wonda.

‘Ay, the inn!’ Rojer cried. ‘We mean no harm, seeking only safe succour, for which we can pay. May we approach?’

‘Leave your spears right there!’ one of the men cried.

‘I’ll do no such-’ Kaval began.

‘Your spear or yourself, Drillmaster,’ Leesha cut in. ‘It’s a fair request, and they could as easily drop you where you stand.’ Kaval let out a low growl, but he bent and laid down his spear, as did Enkido.

‘Who’re you, then?’ the lead man asked when they made it to the porch.