Peter Brett - The Desert Spear

"I can see why you chose to lead a man's life," the duchess mum said, "you being built like one. Do you regret missing out on a life of dresses and blushing at suitors?" Leesha got to her feet, but the duchess mum raised a finger at her without even turning, and Leesha kept her tongue behind her teeth.

Wonda shifted her feet uncomfortably. "Ent never given it much thought."

Araine nodded. "What's it like, girl, to stand among men when they go to war?"

Wonda shrugged. "Feels good to kill demons. They killed my da and a lot of my friends. Some of the Cutters treated us women different at first, trying to keep us behind them when the demons came, but we kill as many as they do, and after a few of them got pounced on for looking out for some woman instead of themselves, they wised up quick."

"The men here would be worse, by far," Araine said. "I had to abdicate power when my husband died, even though my eldest son was an idiot, and his brothers little better. Creator forbid a woman sit the ivy throne. I've always been a little jealous of the way old Bruna dominated men openly, but that sort of thing just isn't done here."

She eyed Wonda again. "Not yet, anyway," she allowed. "Stand tall in the night for me, girl. Stand tall for every woman in Angiers, and never let anyone, man or woman, make you stoop."

"I will, Y'Grace," Wonda said, making a proper bow at last. "I swear it by the sun."

Araine grunted and tapped her chin for a moment, then snapped her fingers. She snatched up the little silver bell on the table and rang it. In an instant one of her ladies-in-waiting appeared. "Summon my seamstress immediately," Araine said. The woman curtsied and scurried off, and moments later another woman arrived, assisted by a young girl with a leather-bound book and a feathered quill.

"The girl," Araine said, pointing to Wonda. "Take her measurements. Everything." The royal seamstress nodded and produced a series of knotted strings, calling the measurements out to the girl, who noted them in her book. Wonda stood awkwardly while the woman worked, moving Wonda's limbs about like a doll's, and running her hands over places that made the girl blush furiously. The white scars on her face became even more prominent as her cheeks colored.

The seamstress came over to Araine and Leesha when she was finished. "It's a challenge, Your Grace," she admitted. "The girl is flat where a woman should be curved, and broad where a woman should be narrow. Perhaps a few ruffles on the dress to distract the eye, and a fan to help her hide the scars…"

"Am I an idiot?" Araine snapped. "I'd as soon put Thamos in a gown as that girl!"

The woman paled, and dipped into a curtsy. "Apologies, Your Grace," she said. "What did you have in mind?"

"I don't know yet," Araine said. "It will come to me, I'm sure. Run along now." The woman nodded, quickly gliding out of the room with her assistant in tow.

Araine turned to Leesha as she and Wonda prepared to go. "Bruna and I were great friends, dear, something that was of great benefit to both of us. I hope we can be friends, as well."

Leesha nodded. "I hope so, too."

"WHY DID YOU AGREE to go?" Rojer asked in a low voice after Janson had escorted the men back to the parlor and left them alone to wait for Leesha and Wonda. "Rhinebeck is just trying to be rid of you because he's afraid his own subjects will flock to you."

"I don't want that any more than he does," the Painted Man said. "I don't want people to start thinking of me as some kind of savior. Besides, I have my own reasons for wanting to visit Miln, and going under Rhinebeck's seal is too good an opportunity to let slip past."

"You're going to give them your battle wards," Rojer said.

The Painted Man nodded. "Among other things."

"All right," Rojer said. "When do we leave?"

The Painted Man looked at him. "There is no 'we ' here, Rojer. I'm going to Miln alone. I'll be traveling at speed through the nights, and I don't need you slowing me down. Besides, you have apprentices to train."

"What's the point?" Rojer asked. "Whatever it is I do to the corelings, it's not something I can teach."

"Demonshit," the Painted Man snapped. "That's quitting talk. You've only been training apprentices for a few months. We need those fiddle wizards, Rojer. You need to find a way to get them ready." He took Rojer's shoulders, looking into his eyes, and Rojer saw the endless determination that burned in the man and, more, his confidence in Rojer. "You can do this," the Painted Man said, squeezing his shoulders. He turned away, but that stare remained with Rojer, and he felt as if some of the man's determination had passed on to him. If he couldn't train the apprentices, he knew who could. All he needed to do was swallow his fear and go to them.

Gared came to the Painted Man, dropping to one knee. "Let me go with ya," he begged. "I ent afraid to gallop at night. I won't slow ya."

"Get up," the Painted Man snapped, kicking at Gared's bent knee. The giant Cutter rose to his feet quickly, but kept his eyes down. The Painted Man put a hand on his shoulder.

"I know you wouldn't slow me, Gared," he said, "but you're not going, either. I'm going to Miln alone."

"But you need someone to protect you," Gared said. "The world needs you."

"The world needs men like you more than it needs me," the Painted Man told Gared, "and I don't need a bodyguard. I have another task in mind for you."

"Anything," Gared promised.

"I don't need a guard, but Rojer does," the Painted Man said. Rojer looked at him sharply, but the Painted Man ignored him. "As Wonda guards Leesha, I want you to watch over Rojer. His fiddle magic is unique and irreplaceable, and may turn the tide if we can harness it."

Gared bowed deeply and stepped into a sunbeam streaming in from a window. "I swear it by the sun." He looked at Rojer. "I won't let him leave my sight."

Rojer looked at the giant, unpredictable Cutter with not a little apprehension, unsure if he should be comforted or terrified. "Let me use the privy in peace, at least."

Gared laughed and slapped him on the back, knocking all the air from Rojer's body and nearly throwing him to the floor. "I'm leaving for Fort Miln before the north gate is barred tonight," the Painted Man told Leesha on the carriage ride back to Jizell's hospit, after filling her in on the rest of his audience with the duke, which had gone precisely as the duchess mum had predicted. "In fact, I mean to go as soon as I can pack Twilight Dancer for the journey."

Leesha had instructed Wonda to keep a straight face if the men confirmed Araine's words. The girl performed admirably, but Leesha herself had to force down the smile that threatened to turn up the corners of her mouth. "Oh?"

"Rhinebeck wants me to go as his agent to Duke Euchor, petitioning him for aid in driving the Krasians out of Thesan lands," the Painted Man said.

Leesha pretended to nod grimly, awed at the duchess mum's power. What she wouldn't give to bend men to her will so, without their ever knowing!

The Painted Man looked expectantly at her. "What?"

"No protests at my leaving?" He seemed almost disappointed. "No insistent offers to accompany me?"

Leesha snorted. "I have business back in the Hollow," she said, not meeting his eyes, "and you've made no secret that you want to spread the battle wards to every city and hamlet. It's for the best."

The Painted Man nodded. "I think so, too."

They passed the rest of the ride in silence, and arrived back at the hospit as the apprentices were taking the linens off the lines.

"Gared, please help the girls haul the laundry baskets," Leesha said as the empty carriage pulled away. Gared nodded and went off.