Peter Brett - The Desert Spear

The demon let go the female's surface thoughts, probing more deeply into her mind for information on the one, but there was little of value. It planted a question on her lips. "How'd you bring back the lost wards?" Renna asked, surprising herself. She knew Arlen hated to talk about what had happened to him after he left the Brook. "Told you. Found them in a ruin," Arlen said. "What ruin? Where?" she pressed. "What does it matter?" Arlen snapped. "It ent some Jongleur's saga." Renna shook her head to clear it. "I'm sorry. Dunno why I got so interested. Dun't matter. Ent lookin' to pry." Arlen grunted and headed off toward the keep they had spent the last few weeks warding while he trained her to hunt demons. The coreling prince hissed as the one refused the question. Logic said to kill them both, but there was no urgency. The number of wards around their shelter suggested they would not leave soon. It could observe another few cycles.

As the humans crossed the wards, the mind demon was cut off from the female's mind. A moment later the mimic landed in a clearing and turned to mist, guarding the path as the coreling prince slipped back down to the Core to consider.

IT WAS WELL AFTER dark by the time the council meeting ended. As Leesha expected, they had voted unanimously against her going back to Rizon with Jardir, and had all been appropriately shocked when she reminded them their votes meant exactly nothing.

Leesha was without the benefit of her warded cloak for the walk back to her cottage, but Rojer layered a protective field of music around the group as potent as any wardnet. His powers seemed to have increased tenfold with his new fiddle, but Wonda and Gared kept their weapons ready as they escorted Darsy and Vika.

"Still say you're out of your skull," Darsy growled. She was as intimidating as Wonda-wider if not as tall and every bit as homely, though without the scars to account for it.

Leesha shrugged. "You're welcome to your opinion, but it isn't open for debate."

"What're we s'posed to do if they take you?" Darsy asked. "Ent like we can mount a rescue, and you're what holds this town together, especially with the Deliverer gone off to Creator knows where."

"Prince Thamos and the Wooden Soldiers will be here soon," Leesha said.

"They ent gonna come for you, either," Darsy said.

"I don't expect them to," Leesha said. "You'll just have to trust me to take care of myself."

"I'm more worried about the rest of us," Vika said. "If you marry this man, we lose you forever, and if you don't…We'll likely lose you that way, as well. What are we to do?"

"That's why I brought you here tonight," Leesha said. Her cottage came into sight, and they were barely inside before she signaled Wonda to lift the trapdoor to her basement workshop.

"Everyone but Vika and Darsy stays up here," Leesha ordered. "This is Gatherers' business." The others nodded, and Leesha escorted the women down the stairs, lighting her cool chemic lamps on the way.

"Creator," Darsy breathed. She had not seen the cellar in many years, since Bruna had dismissed her as an apprentice. Leesha had expanded it greatly since then, and it now covered the whole underside of the cottage and most of the yard as well, an enormous space. Painted support pillars ran along the walls of the main chamber and the many offshoot tunnels.

Where once Bruna had stored a handful of thundersticks for removing unruly stumps from the ground and a couple of jugs of liquid demonfire, Leesha had what seemed like an endless stockpile.

"There's enough flamework here to turn the Hollow into the face of the sun," Vika said.

"Why do you think I've kept my cottage so far from town?" Leesha asked. "I've been brewing demonfire and rolling thundersticks every night for a year."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Vika asked.

"Because no one else need know," Leesha said. "I won't have the Cutters or the town council determining how this should be used. It's Gatherers' business, and you'll dole it out sparingly while I'm gone, and only when it will preserve lives. And I'll have your words that you'll keep the same silence or I'll dose your tea so you don't remember being here at all."

The two women looked at her as if trying to determine whether she was serious, but Leesha was, and knew they could see it in her eyes.

"I swear," Vika said. Darsy hesitated a moment longer, but finally nodded.

"Swear by the sun," she said. "But even this won't last, you don't come back."

Leesha nodded, turning to a table piled high with books. "These are the secrets of fire." Jardir smiled broadly as Leesha and her escort arrived. It was a smaller group than he had anticipated for such a powerful woman: just her parents, Rojer, giant Gared, and the female Sharum, Wonda.

"That one will set the dama in a frenzy," Abban said, indicating Wonda. "They will demand she give up her weapons and cover herself. You should ask that she stay behind."

Jardir shook his head. "I promised Leesha that she could choose her chaperone, and I will not go back on my word. Our people must begin to accept the ways of the Hollow tribe. Perhaps showing them a woman who fights alagai'sharak is a good way to begin."

"If she acquits herself well before them," Abban said.

"I've seen the woman fight," Jardir said. "With proper training, she could become as formidable as any Sharum."

"Tread carefully, Ahmann," Abban said. "Force change on our people too quickly, and many of them will reject it."

Jardir nodded, knowing well the truth of Abban's words.

"I want you to keep close to Leesha on the trip back to Everam's Bounty," he said. "Use the pretext of teaching her our language, as she has requested. It would be unseemly for me to attend her too closely, but her greenland chaperones should accept you."

"Better than the dal'Sharum, I'm sure," Abban muttered.

Jardir nodded. "I want to know everything about her. The food she likes to eat, the scents that give her pleasure, everything."

"Of course," Abban said. "I will see to it." While the dal'Sharum broke camp, Abban limped over to the covered wagon Leesha and her parents rode in. The woman drove the horses herself, Abban noted in surprise. No servants to attend her, nor keep her hands from work. His respect for her grew.

"May I ride with you, mistress?" he asked, bowing. "My master has asked that I instruct you in our language, as you requested."

Leesha smiled. "Of course, Abban. Rojer can take a horse." Rojer, seated next to her in the driver's seat of the cart, groaned and made a face.

Abban bowed deeply, holding tight to his crutch. As the dama'ting had feared, his leg had never truly healed, and even now it could buckle at inopportune times.

"If you prefer, son of Jessum, you may ride my camel," he said, gesturing to where the beast was tethered. Rojer looked at the animal dubiously until he saw the canopied and pillowed seat, spacious and richly appointed. A glitter came to his eyes.

"She is a gentle beast who will follow the other animals without direction," Abban noted.

"Well, if it will be a favor to you…" Rojer said.

"Of course," Abban agreed. Rojer grabbed his fiddle and somersaulted off the cart, running over to the camel. Abban had lied, of course, the beast was ill tempered at best, but no sooner had it spit at him than Rojer lifted his instrument, calming it as easily as he might an alagai. Leesha might have greater value to Ahmann, but Rojer, too, was an asset to cultivate.

"May I ask you a question, Abban?" Leesha asked, breaking him from his reverie.

Abban nodded. "Of course, mistress."

"Have you used that crutch since birth?" she asked.

Abban was more than a little surprised at her boldness. Among his people, his infirmity was either mocked or ignored. No one cared enough about a khaffit to ask such things.