Peter Brett - Barren

Selia fixed him with the look , though it never affected Jeorje the way it did others. ‘Ent one to talk, Jeorje. Hear tell you just married Mena Watch last month. Girl ent seen twenty summers.’

‘ Married , Selia,’ Jeorje said. ‘I don’t dishonour women’s families by luring them into fornication.’

‘Just into your harem,’ Selia quipped. ‘Mena is your … sixth?’

‘Seventh.’ There was pride in Jeorje’s voice. ‘A holy number. And my wife Trena arranged the match with Mena’s family personally. I didn’t lure her in secret and steal her virtue.’

‘Only bought it from her da,’ Selia muttered.

Jeorje ignored the words. ‘Stam Tailor has ever been a burden on this town, given to drink and poor choices.’

Jeorje might be a hypocrite, but he was not without a point. Plenty of folk liked getting drunk on festival days or at night after the wards were checked, but Stam was seldom sober, and someone was always cleaning his mess, one way or the other. He’d taken the rush of magic over drink, but addiction was addiction.

A burden on this town. It wasn’t the first time Selia heard Jeorje use those words, and it always led to the same place.

‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Council’s all here now. Send someone to fetch Maddy and I’ll send for Stam. We’ll hear their case and vote tonight.’

It was an empty promise. Hog and Coline were still paying for their votes against Renna Tanner, and Mack had been replaced by Jeph. With those votes turned, the council would never support the Fishers’ calls for blood again.

Selia saw a fleeting smile twitch Jeorje’s lips, and she realized he had never wanted the vote. He wanted to be seen supporting the Fishers when she was against.

‘You need not depend on Town Square for protection from corespawn,’ Jeorje told Raddock. ‘Southwatch can offer better.’

Selia flexed her knuckles. Adding Fishing Hole would only give Jeorje three council votes out of ten, but half the Brook’s population would answer to him. If that happened, the council really would become obsolete, and Selia would be lucky to avoid being staked in the square herself.

‘Talk about it on your own time,’ Jeph cut in loudly. ‘I called this meeting, and the sun’s settin’.’

It was crowded atop the watchtower with all ten Speakers and Keven Marsh – who had carried his father up the ladder. Private squabbles died away as they took in Jeph’s greatward, clearly visible from above. The symbol brightened as shadows lengthened. By sunset the ward was glowing softly, illuminating all Jeph’s property.

Jeph pointed. ‘Led a couple Wanderers that way last night.’

Demons came in all shapes and sizes, but folk in the Brook lumped them into two groups: Regulars and Wanderers. Regulars tended to haunt the same paths, imprinting on an area and almost never leaving. Wanderers hunted where sound and spoor led, ranging wide and without pattern.

Corelings always rose in the same spot they used to flee the sun the night before. As the dark strengthened, black mist vented from the ground like smoke, coalescing into a pair of field demons.

The demons caught sight of people wandering Jeph’s yard and tamped their paws to pounce. Folk screamed and fell back, warriors moving forward to put a wall of shields between the demons and the townsfolk.

But as the demons leapt, they were thrown back as the greatward flashed like a bolt of lightning, turning night into day for the barest instant.

Jeph put two fingers in his mouth and gave a shrill whistle. Jeph Young, his eldest son, appeared with a bow, expertly putting a warded shaft into one of the demons. It yelped and collapsed. Its fellow shrieked and clawed at the forbidding, leaving streaks of magic in the air where the claws scraped against the greatward.

The other Bales children appeared with slingshots, peppering the second coreling with warded stones that sparked and bit against its armour. The demon hunched down and attempted to flee, but Jeph Young had another arrow nocked by then, taking it in the back. The downed demon kept kicking until Jeph Young put it down for good with his third shot.

Everyone was impressed by the spectacle. Folk down in the yard gave a cheer, and there was chatter in the watchtower among the Speakers. Only Jeorje was silent, eyes glittering. No doubt he had come more for politicking than magic, but there was power in Jeph’s greatward, and Selia knew the leader of Southwatch would covet it.

And why shouldn’t he? The greatwards could make their town’s succour a permanent thing. Folk could sleep sound in the night, and tend fields without fear of demons burning them just before harvest. Yet something in that covetous look left Selia unsettled.

When all had ample time for a look, Jeph led them back down to the yard and up onto his porch to address the folk. All eyes were on him, something Jeph Bales had never cared for, but he met those eyes boldly tonight, filled with a sense of purpose Selia had never seen before.

‘Messenger taught me a bit of warding before he left last year.’ No one needed to ask whom Jeph meant. There was only one Messenger who came bearing wards. ‘Been experimentin’ and you can see the results for yourself. Ent no test for these wards. Nothin’ to prove. Any as want them can have them. Messenger said they were to be spread far and wide. Said, ’gainst the corelings, we’re all on the same side.’

There was excited chatter in the crowd at that, but also doubt. Jeph’s greatward was ambitious. Many would not feel up to constructing their own when regular wards had done well enough for them thus far.

‘That ent all.’ Jeph’s words drowned in the buzz of the crowd.

‘Silence.’ Jeorje didn’t shout, but the soft-spoken word was loud, penetrating the din. He thumped his cane on the porch boards for emphasis, and folk froze like cats caught on the kitchen counter.

Jeph didn’t miss a beat, raising his own voice. ‘Messenger told me about corelings we ent seen yet – ones that only come out when the night is darkest. Shape changers that can look like friends and trick folk into stepping beyond the wards. Smart demons that can steal thoughts right outta your head and lead lesser corelings like hounds. Said we need to step up our forbiddings, and gave us the wards to do it. Everyone needs to learn ’em, from the schoolhouse slate to the last elder.’

Hog, prewarned, stepped forward. ‘For those that don’t want to wait on lessons, or ent got a steady warding hand, we’ve got mind wards as stamps, pendants, hat brims, even plates you can glue on your favourite helmet.’

‘How much you gonna charge for a set o’ them plates, Hog?’ Mack Pasture shouted.

Hog crossed his arms. ‘Twenty credits.’

The crowd gasped. Twenty credits could feed a family of five for a month. The Brook was prospering as never before, but few in town had that much to spare.

‘Always a cheat!’ Mack screamed. ‘Even when Messenger says we’re all on the same side!’

There were nods through the crowd, even some of Selia’s own militia. Hog’s greed was ever getting the better of him.

Selia thumped her spear on the porch, much as Jeorje had. ‘Ten.’

The word bit through the anger in the crowd, all eyes turning towards her. She kept her chin high as Hog scowled, daring him to contradict her.

Rusco Hog was no fool. This wasn’t the first time he’d faced an angry crowd, and without Selia to put out the fire he’d have been strung up as a thief long since. He swallowed his grimace and gave a sharp, shallow nod.

‘Ten.’ Jeorje thumped his cane, and Selia too had to swallow a grimace. Any time he could not get the first word, Jeorje was sure to get the last, making every ruling of the town council appear to be his own personal judgement.