Peter Brett - The Skull Throne

Roni nodded and vanished. Amanvah was already at work on the girl, badly bitten by field demons. These were not the first Laktonians to lose control at the sight of Amanvah’s robes and dark skin, but folk would need to swallow it—along with a few teeth, if necessary.

Even with almost every Gatherer in the Hollow at hand, their resources were taxed. The apprentices could set a bone and stitch a gash, but there were few with the knowledge to cut into a patient, much less fix what they found. Amanvah was the best combat surgeon Leesha had ever seen. She could not afford to send the woman away.

There was a lull as they waited the next wave. Leesha finished her work, leaving Kadie to stitch. She stretched her back as she made her way out of the surgery. The extra weight she was carrying did not make hours bent over the operating table any easier.

The hospit’s main room was chaotic. It was more than a week since the refugees began to arrive but still wounded poured in as Cutter and Wooden Soldier patrols gathered groups on the road and guided them into the Hollow. Fleeing for days on end, many suffered from exhaustion and exposure; others had been wounded in the invasion, or by demons on the road.

But after the waves of refugees from Rizon and the losses at new moon, the Hollowers had gotten used to bringing order from chaos.

Off to the side, the two Laktonian men slumped on a bunch, arms on their knees as they stared at the floor. She was in desperate need of a rest, but it was a stark reminder that others had it far worse.

Leesha understood the rage the refugees directed toward Amanvah. She felt it herself. Their strike on Docktown was too precise to have been a sudden inspiration. Ahmann had been planning it all along, even as he seduced her.

Part of her, angry and wounded, hoped Arlen had indeed killed him.

She made her way over to them. The father didn’t even look up until she put her feet right in their field of vision. The son continued to stare.

“Your daughter will be all right,” she said. “All of you will.”

“’Preciate the thought, Gatherer,” the father said, “but I don’t things will ever be all right again. We’ve lost … everything. If Cadie dies, I don’t know what I’ll …” He choked off with a sob.

Leesha laid a hand on his shoulder. “I know it feels that way, but I’ve been right where you are. More than once. All the Hollowers have.”

“Gets better.” Stela Inn had appeared with the water cart. She ladled a pair of cups and produced a rough blanket. “Weather’s gettin’ chill. There’ll be heat wards in the campsite, but they only work at night. Did they give you a site number?”

“Ah …” the man said. “Boy out front said something …”

“Seven,” the son said, his eyes still on the floor. “We’re in site seven.”

Stela nodded. “Pollock’s field. What are your names?”

“Marsin Peat.” The man nodded to his son. “Jak.”

Stela made a note on her pad. “When’s the last time you ate?”

The man looked at her blankly for a moment, then shook his head. “Search my pockets.”

Stela smiled. “I’ll ask Callen to come by with the bread cart while you wait for word.”

“Creator bless you, girl,” the man said.

“See?” Leesha said. “Getting better already.”

“Ay,” the boy said. “Mum’s gone, house is ashes, and Cadie’s gonna die of demon fever. But we’ve got a blanket, so everything’s sunny!”

“Ay, be grateful!” Marsin snapped, swatting his son on the back of his head.

“There will be more than just blankets and bread,” Leesha said. “A pair of strong backs like your can be put right to work cutting trees and building homes on one of the new greatwards.”

“Paid work,” Stela noted. “Food credits at first, but then you’ll start at five klats a day each.”

Leesha had scoffed, but the new coin was just what folk needed, dispersing among the refugees faster than they could be printed.

Marsin shook his head. “Thought it was over for us tonight, when the demons got through our camp wards. But I gotta believe … Deliverer wouldn’t’ve saved us if there wern’t no reason.”

Leesha and Stella looked up sharply at that. “You saw the Deliverer?” Stela asked.

The man nodded. “Ay. And I wasn’t the only one.”

“It was just a flash of wardlight,” Jak said.

“Ay,” Marsin agreed. “But brighter than anything my hasty wards could make. Hurt to look at. And I saw an arm.”

“Could’ve been anythin’,” Jak said.

“Anythin’ didn’t freeze the flame demon that bit Cadie solid,” Marsin said. “Or set that woodie on fire so we could reach the Cutters on the road.”

Leesha shook her head. This wasn’t the first tale of Renna’s exploits she’d heard, but as yet none had seen more than a flitting shadow or a glimpse of warded flesh.

How is she doing it? Leesha wondered. Drawing wards in the air and dissipating like smoke, traveling miles in the time it took to draw a deep breath. It was more than blackstem wards could explain. Wonda had grown powerful at night, but nothing like that, and her abilities always faded back to mortal levels when the sun rose.

“Swear by the sun,” Marsin was saying. “Deliverer saved me and mine.”

“Course he did,” Stela said. “Deliverer’s out there, watching over all of us.”

Leesha led the girl out of earshot of the men. “Don’t go making promises like that. You know as well as any even Arlen Bales can’t be everywhere at once. Folk need to concentrate on saving themselves.”

Stela gave a curtsy. “Ay, mistress, that’s sunny and good when you’re a Cutter with arms like tree trunks, or a Krasian princess who can throw men across the room like dolls. What’s a Hollow girl like me to do?”

What indeed? Leesha wondered. Stela was healthy enough, but small and thin-limbed. The girl was helping as best she could, but she was right. She wasn’t built for fighting.

“Would you fight if you could?” Leesha asked.

“Ay, mistress,” Stela said. “But even if Grandda would let me, I can’t so much as wind a crank bow.”

“We’ll see about that,” Leesha said.

“Mistress?” Stela asked.

“Focus on your work,” Leesha said. “We’ll speak of this again soon.”

There was a boom as the front door to the hospit was kicked open. Wonda Cutter strode in, with two grown men slung over her shoulder and another carried in the crook of one arm. Her sleeves were rolled up, the blackstem wards glowing softly.

All around the room, folk pointed and whispered. Wonda caught Leesha’s eye and shrugged apologetically.

“Din’t have no choice, mistress,” Wonda said when they were alone. “I was all out of arrows and the demon was going right for ’em. What was I supposed to do? Let ’em die?”

“Of course not, dear,” Leesha said. “You did the right thing.”

“Whole town’s talkin’ about it by now,” Wonda said. “Calling me your Warded Child.”

“What’s done is done,” Leesha said. “Pay it no mind. We couldn’t hide it forever, and I’ve learned enough to begin expanding our experiment.”

“Ay?” Wonda asked.

Leesha nodded to the wards on Wonda’s arms, still glowing softly. “The glow should die down when your adrenaline does. Do your breathing until it fades, then go ask around for volunteers. Remember what I told you to look for.”

“Ay, mistress.” Wonda was already breathing in slow rhythm.

“And Wonda?” Leesha nodded her head across the room. “Start with Stela Inn.”

The sun came up, and Wonda waited for the light to reach the yard, then stepped from the porch to begin slowly stretching through her daily sharukin. It was a chill morning, but she wore only a slight shift, exposing as much of her warded skin as possible to the sunlight.