Peter Brett - The Core

The Straw Gatherers had done their work well. Rojer’s handsome face was serene, showing nothing of the violence of his death. He was clad in bright silk motley and looked as if he might leap to his feet at any moment and begin playing a reel.

He lay on a bed of axe handles crossed over the broad shoulders of Gared, Wonda, and half a dozen hand-picked Hollowers. Dug and Merrem Butcher. Smitt. Darsy. Jow and Evin Cutter.

Folk filled the Graveyard, packing the cobbles before the pyre and stretching down the road in every direction. All roads in Cutter’s Hollow led here, to the centre of the greatward.

The pyre had been built in front of the bandshell that had been Rojer’s place of power. Gared and Wonda were weeping openly as they laid Rojer on the great platform over the pile of kindling.

Amanvah, Sikvah, and Kendall fell to their knees on the stage, wailing and sobbing with dramatic flair as young Krasian girls scraped the tears from their cheeks into tiny bottles of warded glass.

Leesha wanted to weep. She had often sought solace in tears, and wept over Rojer many times in private over the last few weeks. But now, before all the gathered people of the Hollow, she felt as if she had nothing left to give. Thamos, dead. Arlen gone, and Ahmann’s fate uncertain. And now Rojer. Would it be her fate to bury every man she loved?

After a time, Amanvah recovered herself and got to her feet, looking out over the crowd as she activated her choker. ‘I am Amanvah vah Rojer vah Ahmann am’Inn am’Hollow, First Wife to Rojer asu Jessum am’Inn am’Hollow. My husband was son-in-law to Shar’Dama Ka, but there was no denying that he, too, was touched by Everam. We burn his body according to your custom, but in Krasia, sharik hora , the bones of heroes, are honoured above all others. My honoured husband’s bones will be taken from the remains, lacquered, and encased in warded glass to consecrate the new temple to the Creator here on the sacred ground of the Corelings’ Graveyard.’

Kendall began a slow, mournful song, and Amanvah began to sing. Sikvah joined her, the trio wrapping the crowd in their music as easily as they charmed corelings.

As she sang, Amanvah produced the tiny skull of a flame demon and pointed it at the pyre, fingers sliding across the wards to activate the magic. A blast of flame shot from the jaws, setting the wood beneath the pyre alight. The Straw Gatherers had filled the body with chemics and sawdust, and it blazed quickly, shining over the crowd as they stood entranced by the Krasian funeral song.

When it was over, Leesha took the stage, clearing her throat. She did not have a choker like the princess, but there was magic in the bandshell as well, carrying her words far into the night.

Still Leesha’s tears would not come, and no doubt the mourners were wondering at the sight. Why isn’t she crying? Didn’t she love him? Doesn’t she care?

She took a deep breath. ‘Rojer made me promise that if this day ever came, I’d have singing and dancing, and toss the speeches in the flames with him.’

There was scattered laughter.

‘It’s honest word.’ Leesha produced a folded paper. ‘He even wrote it down.’ She opened the paper, reading.

Leesha, I plan to live long enough to dazzle my great-grandchildren with magic tricks, but we both know life doesn’t always go according to plan. If I should die, I’m counting on you to make sure my funeral isn’t some boring, depressing affair. Tell everyone I was great, sing a sad song while you light the pyre, then tell Hary to spin a reel and order folk to shut up and dance.

Leesha folded the paper, slipping it into a pocket of her dress. ‘I wouldn’t be here if not for Rojer Halfgrip. I dare say many of us wouldn’t. More than once, his music was the last line of the Hollow’s defence, giving us time to regroup, to find our feet, to catch our breath.

‘When Arlen Bales fell from the sky at new moon, it was Rojer’s fiddle that lured the coreling hordes into ambush after ambush, allowing us to hold the night.

‘But that’s not how I remember him best,’ Leesha went on. ‘Rojer was the one who was always ready with a joke when I was sad, or an ear when I needed one. He could be my conscience one moment, and turn a backflip the next. When problems mounted and everything seemed too much to bear, Rojer could just take out his fiddle and soothe it all away.

‘That was his magic. Not drawing wards or throwing lightning. Not seeing the future or healing wounds. Rojer Inn saw into hearts, human and demon, and spoke to them with his music. I’ve never known anyone like him, and I don’t expect I shall again.

‘Rojer was great.’ She choked, putting a hand to her mouth, and suddenly found her tears. Amanvah herself rushed forward, catching the drops before they fell from her cheek.

Leesha took a moment to compose herself, then turned to the leader of the Jongleurs in the bandshell. ‘Hary, it’s time for that reel.’

Elissa drank and danced with the Hollowers all night. Ragen swung Elissa about like he hadn’t since they courted, and even Briar took a turn – the boy surprisingly light on his feet and quick to pick up the steps. The three of them laughed until their faces hurt, feeling safe and joyful for the first time in Creator only knew how long.

As the night wore on, Jongleurs broke off, luring revellers back to their own boroughs just as Halfgrip once lured the corelings, and there was cheer and laughter throughout the Hollow.

There were groans throughout the taproom of Smitt’s Inn as dawn light filtered in the windows. There were trays piled high with eggs, bacon, and bread, pitchers of water, and a bucket at the end of every table for retching. One patron was not quick enough, emptying his stomach onto the floor. The sight of it made Elissa’s own stomach roil, but she took deep breaths, focusing on the water pitcher until the room stopped spinning.

Stefny, the innkeeper’s wife, was there before the man finished with a damp cloth to wipe his mouth and a mop to shove in his hands when he was clean. The man wisely set to cleaning his mess.

‘You all right?’ Stefny asked Elissa. ‘I know the look. See one lose it and others are quick to follow.’

‘I’ll manage,’ Elissa said, sipping at her water.

Stefny nodded. ‘Ent much business getting done today. Mistress Leesha sent word she’ll receive you on the morrow.’ She sniffed, eyes flicking to Briar. ‘Time enough to rest up and have a proper bath before going to court.’

Briar frowned. The boy, bless him, had the resilience of youth, and looked fitter than the rest of them. He’d finished two helpings of breakfast and now got to his feet. ‘Come find you tomorrow morning.’

‘There’s room—’ Stefny began.

‘Don’t like walls,’ Briar cut in. ‘Got a briarpatch in the Gatherers’ Wood.’ Without another word, he was out the door.

The water had long since cooled, but Elissa was still soaking in the bath when Ragen returned to the room the next morning.

‘Turns out Smitt’s the local banker, as well,’ Ragen said. ‘Once he sobered a bit, our name was enough to get a line of credit to fund our journey back to Miln. Be a few weeks before we can hire hands and get supply, but things should go smoothly from here.’

‘From your lips to the Creator’s ear,’ Elissa said. ‘I was beginning to think the children would be grown by the time we returned.’

‘Hard to plan for an invasion,’ Ragen said. ‘If there’s a Creator, I’d say He’s done His part just seeing us through.’

As promised, Briar was waiting on the porch when they had readied themselves. He still smelled of hogroot, but the dirt was gone, at least. Elissa had seen him swim in freezing ponds and streams without so much as a shiver, but it saddened her nevertheless to see him this way. Ragen had hoped to take the boy back home with them, and Elissa dreamed of teaching him the pleasures of a bath and a clean set of clothes, but both of them knew now it was only a fantasy. Briar was Briar, and that wasn’t going to change. The path that made him who he was could not be unwalked.