Peter Brett - The Desert Spear

The Painted Man shrugged.

Rhinebeck nodded. "Do it."

"As you wish, Your Grace," Janson said.

"All this is neither East nor West," Prince Thamos snapped, stamping his spear butt on the floor. He looked at the Painted Man. "We tested your wards. I killed a wood demon myself with that arrow. I want more. And the other combat wards you've developed, along with training for my men. What do you want in exchange?"

"It matters not what he wants," Rhinebeck said. "The Hollowers are my subjects, and I won't pay for what they owe the ivy throne regardless."

"As I told Prince Thamos and the Lord Janson, Your Grace," the Painted Man said, "the corelings are the real enemy. I won't withhold warded weapons from any who want them."

Rhinebeck grunted, and Thamos' eyes took on an eager light.

"I can consult with the Warders' Guild to select Warders to send to the Hollow, if Your Grace wishes," Janson said. "Perhaps with a contingent of Wooden Soldiers to guard them?"

"I'll lead them personally, brother," Prince Thamos said, turning to look at the duke.

Rhinebeck nodded. "Very well," he said.

"What of the refugees from Rizon?" the Painted Man asked. "Will you take them in?"

"My city has no room for thousands of refugees," Rhinebeck said. "Let them succor in the hamlets. We can offer them…what was it again, Janson?" Rhinebeck asked.

"Royal asylum," Janson said, "and the protection of the crown to any who swear an oath of loyalty to Angiers." Rhinebeck nodded.

The Painted Man bowed. "That is very generous, Your Grace, but these people are starved and penniless, lacking basic necessities of survival. Surely, in your mercy, you can offer more than that."

"Very well," Rhinebeck said. "I'm not heartless. Janson, what can we spare?"

"Well, Your Grace," Janson said, flipping open a ledger and scanning its contents, "we can forgive the Hollow its delinquent lumber shipments, of course…"

"Of course," Rhinebeck echoed.

"And while in the Hollow, your Royal Warders can offer their expertise in protecting the refugees in the night," Janson went on, "as can the Wooden Soldiers."

"Of course, of course," Rhinebeck said.

Janson pursed his lips. "Please allow me to review further, Your Grace, and I will present you with detailed lists of what resources we have available."

"See to it," Rhinebeck said.

Janson bowed again. "As you command."

"And what of the Krasian advance?" the Painted Man asked.

"I've seen no evidence that the Krasians will advance, apart from your own claims," Rhinebeck said.

"They will," the Painted Man assured. "The Evejah demands it."

"You know a lot about the desert rats and their heathen religion," Pether said. "Lord Janson says you even lived among them for a time."

The Painted Man nodded. "That's correct, Your Grace."

"Then how can we be sure of where your loyalties lie?" Pether said. "For all we know, you're a corespawned Evejan convert yourself. Night, if you won't tell us who you are and where you're from, how do we even know you're not a Krasian yourself under all those wards?"

Gared growled, but the Painted Man held up a finger, and the giant Cutter fell silent. "I assure you, that isn't the case," the Painted Man said. "My loyalty is to Thesa."

Rhinebeck smiled. "Prove it."

The Painted Man tilted his head curiously. "How shall I prove it, Your Grace?"

"My herald is out in the hamlets," Rhinebeck said, "and cannot travel as swiftly as you, in any event. Go to Fort Miln for me and speak to Duke Euchor. Invoke the Pact."

"The Pact, Your Grace?" the Painted Man asked. Rhinebeck looked to Janson, who cleared his throat.

"The Pact of the Free Cities," the minister said. "In the year zero, after the first wardwalls were finally built and a semblance of order restored to the ravaged countryside, the surviving dukes of Thesa signed a mutual nonaggression pact called the Pact of the Free Cities. In it, they recognized the death of the king of Thesa and the end of his line, and accepted one another's sovereignty over their territories. The pact bans the taking of territory by force, and promises the unity of all cities in putting down its violators."

"Did the Krasians sign this Pact?" the Painted Man asked.

Janson shook his head. "Krasia was not part of Thesa, and thus was never subject to the Pact. However," he held up a hand to forestall further response as he set his spectacles at the end of his nose and lifted an old parchment, "the exact wording of the Pact is as follows:

"Should the territory or sovereignty of any duchy be threatened by human design, it shall be the obligation of all signees and their posterity to intercede in unity on behalf of the threatened party." Janson set the parchment down. "The Pact was so worded to outlaw all warfare among men, because there were so few of us left after the depredations of the Return. Thus, it remains binding, regardless of whether the Krasian leader signed it."

"Do you think Duke Euchor will see it so?" the Painted Man asked Janson.

"Are you in audience with my secretary, or me?" Rhinebeck demanded loudly, drawing all eyes back to him. Rojer saw that the duke had gone red in the face, as angry as he had been the night he had caught seven-year-old Rojer sleeping in the bed of one of his favorite whores.

The Painted Man bowed. "Apologies, Your Grace," he said. "No disrespect was meant."

Rhinebeck seemed somewhat mollified by the response, but his reply remained gruff. "Euchor will try to find a way out of the Pact like a coreling longs for a gap in the wards, but without support from him, Angiers cannot afford to commit to attacking the Krasian host."

"You would violate the Pact yourself?" the Painted Man asked.

"Intercede in unity, the Pact says," Rhinebeck growled. "Should I clash with the desert rats alone, only to have Euchor sweep in and destroy both our weakened armies and declare himself king?"

The Painted Man was silent a long time. "Why me, Your Grace?"

Rhinebeck snorted. "Don't be modest. Every Jongleur in Thesa sings of you. If your arrival causes half the stir in Miln that it has in Angiers, Euchor will have no choice but to adhere to the Pact, especially if you sweeten the call with your battle wards."

"I won't withhold them for political gain," the Painted Man said.

"Of course not," Rhinebeck said, grinning, "but Euchor need not know that, ay?"

Rojer edged closer to the Painted Man. A skilled puppeteer, he could shout or whisper without moving his lips, even making the sounds appear to come from another place.

"He's just trying to be rid of you," he warned, so the others did not hear or notice.

But if the Painted Man heard him, he gave no sign. "Very well, I'll do it. I'll need your seal, Your Grace, so Duke Euchor knows the message is authentic."

"You'll have whatever you need," Euchor promised. "Your Grace," the lady-in-waiting said, "the Lord Janson bade me to inform you that the duke's audience with the delegation from Cutter's Hollow is at an end."

"Thank you, Ema," Araine said, not bothering to ask how things went. "Please inform Lord Janson that we will meet them in the antechamber when we have finished our tea." Ema curtsied smoothly and vanished. Wonda threw back the rest of her cup and got to her feet.

"There is no need for haste, young lady," Araine told her. "It does men good to have to wait for a woman now and again. It teaches them patience."

"Yes'm," Wonda said, bowing.

The duchess mum got to her feet. "Come here, girl, and let me have a proper look at you," she said. Wonda came closer, and Araine walked around her, examining her worn and patched clothes, the jagged scars on her homely face, and reaching out to squeeze her shoulders and arms like a butcher examining livestock.