To Leesha’s surprise, they did not head for the Corelings’ Graveyard, turning instead to another area of the greatward. She was wondering at the destination when Thamos’ keep came into view.
The fort was still under construction, but already a huge palisade wall had been erected, tarred logs lashed tightly together, thick and high enough for soldiers to patrol the ramparts with crank bows, and crenellated to give them cover while firing.
The palisade gate swung open, showing a courtyard more than large enough to accommodate their entire caravan. As the soldiers waved for them to enter, it became clear Thamos intended just that, taking everyone inside the walls and shutting the gates behind them. Leesha worried that once inside, the Krasians might never emerge. She had always known they were hostages and spies both, freely given by Ahmann as a show of good faith, but her intent had been to treat them as any other folk, letting them see the goodness of her people up close.
She doubted Count Thamos would do the same. He had made a show of benevolence thus far, but his mission had always been clear: get control of the Hollow, learn the secrets of demon killing, and draw Angiers’ line in the sand against the Krasians. The attitude at court had been one of loathing for the desert people. It was not undeserved after their attack on Rizon, but escalation was the last thing they needed right now. Ahmann could crush the Hollow – and likely Angiers itself – if given cause.
‘Stop the carriage,’ she told Darsy, and the woman complied immediately. The rest of the caravan stopped with them, and Leesha got down and opened the door to the carriage.
Elona looked out, taking in the count’s keep. She let out a low whistle. ‘Prince has been busy these last months. Is he married?’
Leesha sighed. Even now, she could not bear to look at her mother. ‘I hope not. Court gossip has him bedding every young thing bats a lash at him.’
‘Just needs the right one to spin his head a bit,’ Elona said.
‘I said young, Mother,’ Leesha said. ‘I don’t think you’re his type.’
‘Ay, don’t talk to your mother that way!’ Erny said. Leesha looked at him and wanted to scream. Even now, he defended her. It would likely be the same even if he knew about Gared. Night, he probably did. Erny wasn’t half the fool people thought he was when it came to his wife, but Elona had been right about his courage.
Leesha pretended her father had not spoken. ‘I am going in for an audience with His Highness now. I’ll have some of the Cutters escort you back home. When you’re there and no one is looking, take the Krasian spears and hide them in the paper shop. Somewhere no one will find them.’
Erny seemed nonplussed at both Leesha’s and Elona’s lack of response, and nodded after a moment. ‘Ay, I know just the place. I’ve a slurry vat with a false bottom.’
‘Oh, really?’ Leesha asked. ‘And what, might I ask, did you need that for?’
Erny smiled. ‘To keep inquisitive young girls poking around my papermaking chemicals from getting themselves hurt.’
‘I’ve been mixing worse for fifteen years,’ Leesha said.
‘Ay,’ Erny agreed. ‘But I haven’t had reason to bring up since.’ He raised a finger. ‘And you’ll know my secrets when I decide it, young lady, and not before. You mind your tone if you ever want to know where the gold’s hid.’
‘He ent bluffing,’ Elona muttered. ‘Been with him near thirty years, and still ent got a clue.’
Captain Gamon rode back to where they stood. ‘The count is waiting,’ he said impatiently. ‘What is the delay?’ With the count’s seat of power – and crank bowmen – at his back, he seemed to regain something of the haughtiness he had first shown on the road.
‘I am sending my parents home while I meet with His Highness,’ Leesha said. ‘And the rest of the caravan could use a bit of ease.’
‘They can have that inside the count’s keep,’ Gamon said. ‘Accommodations have been made. They will be safer inside.’
‘Safer from whom?’ Leesha asked.
‘Many of His Highness’s new subjects come from the south, and remember what these people did to their homes,’ Gamon reminded her.
‘I am aware of that,’ Leesha said, ‘but these are guests and not prisoners.’
She turned to Gared and the Cutters, who had come to stand beside her. ‘I think the Cutters can keep peace with a group of unarmed Krasians, don’t you?’
‘Don’t you worry none, girlie,’ Yon Gray said, slapping his axe handle against his palm. ‘Anyone woodbrained enough to start trouble’ll soon regret it.’ It was eerie, hearing the old man’s voice come from a man now in his prime. She had been documenting Yon’s slow shedding of years for some time, but the sudden change after months apart was still a little jarring. Most of the grey had fled his hair, and he looked a man of forty rather than one in his seventies.
‘Ay,’ Dug said. ‘We’ll see to it.’
Gamon shook his head. ‘The royal summons mentions you and your wife by name, Mr Butcher, along with Captain Cutter, Master Inn, and Miss Cutter.’ He indicated Wonda.
‘Me?’ Wonda asked. ‘What’s the count want to see me for?’
‘I’m sure I don’t know.’ Gamon’s tone was derisive. Angierians gave their women more rights than Krasians, but not by much. They didn’t approve of women involving themselves in politics or military matters. Leesha opened her mouth to fire off an acid response, but Gared beat her to it.
‘Mind yur manners,’ Gared growled. ‘She’s got more coreling corpses to her name than yur whole runty company combined.’
Gamon’s eyebrow became a hard V. Here beside the keep the Wooden Soldiers were more numerous, but more and more Cutters arrived by the moment. He pursed his lips, saying nothing.
Gared grunted and turned to Yon. ‘Keep watch on the caravan while we’re inside. No one bothers ’em, but no one leaves, either. Extra eyes on the ones in black.’
Yon nodded. ‘Ay, boy. Don’t fret on it.’
Rojer appeared a moment later. In the Krasian fashion, Amanvah followed a step behind him; Kaval, Coliv, and Enkido a step behind her; Shamavah a step behind them.
‘Where is Sikvah?’ Leesha asked. ‘Is she well?’
Amanvah shook her head with a tsk. ‘You play at understanding our ways, Mistress Paper, but your knowledge is obviously lacking if you think a man should bring his Jiwah Sen to court.’
Amanvah’s tone was haughty as ever, but Leesha could sense the anger beneath. She bowed. ‘I meant no insult.’ Amanvah did not reply.
‘His Highness has not summoned you,’ Captain Gamon told her. ‘You and your savages can wait in the courtyard.’
Amanvah’s gaze snapped to him, her dama’ting serenity broken at the rudeness. Kaval and Enkido tensed, but she flicked a hand to calm them. ‘My father is Ahmann asu Hoshkamin am’Jardir am’Kaji. Shar’Dama Ka and Deliverer, who will unite mankind. He will take it a grave insult if I am left rotting on the pillows by some minor princeling.’
‘I don’t care if your father is the Creator Himself,’ Gamon snapped. ‘You’ll wait until you’re called for.’
Amanvah’s delicate eyebrows seemed to thread together, but she did not argue further.
Leesha felt the situation deteriorating and turned to Evin, absently stroking the back of his wolfhound, its massive shoulders almost as high as his. She had disliked Evin when they were young – he had been cruel and selfish and never one to be counted – but like so many folk, the coming of the Painted Man had changed him. ‘Evin, will you see my parents home, please?’
Evin nodded, springing into the driver’s seat of their carriage himself. Shadow followed alongside the carriage, and the horses stamped and pulled at their harnesses, whinnying in fear.
Evin gave a shrill whistle. ‘Ay, Shadow! Go and find Callen!’ The wolfhound gave a bark that sounded like a thunderclap and ran off. Evin pulled hard at the reins, getting the horses under control, then gave them a crack and the carriage rode off. The rest of the caravan was left at loose en
ds under the watchful eyes of the Cutters and Wooden Soldiers as she and the others passed through the gates.
The count’s keep was still under construction, but the foundations were laid and portions of his manse were already raised and functional. A group of Wooden Soldiers gathered at the main entrance, spears and shields at the ready.
Leesha moved over to Gared, dropping her voice. ‘Gared, if the count tries to give you a title and a uniform, don’t accept right away.’
‘Why not?’ Gared said, not bothering to keep her hushed tones.
‘Because you’d be giving away our army, you idiot,’ Rojer said, coming up on his other side. His voice, too, was too low for the others to hear.
Gared turned an angry glare the Jongleur’s way. ‘Just a big joke to you, too, ent I? Painted Man told me to keep you safe while he was gone, Rojer. I swore by the sun and promised I would. Stood in the way of charging demons and Krasians and Creator knows what else to keep it.’
He loomed forward suddenly, and the smaller man, his bearing so proud a moment before, shrank back from the sheer menace of his presence. ‘But he never told me I had to eat yur shit, and you been takin’ a lot of liberty. Way I see it, him back in town means my promise is kept and done. Watch yur own back from now on, you crippled little runt. And next time you call me idiot? Gonna put your teeth out.’ He licked two fingers and held them up high enough to catch the sun topping the count’s walls. ‘Swear by the sun.’
‘Gared,’ Leesha said carefully, as Rojer stood shocked. ‘You have every right to be angry about how we’ve taken you for granted, and for my part, I’m sorry. I blame you for everything wrong in my life sometimes, but truer is, you didn’t do anything a million other boys haven’t done. I forgive you. You’ve made up for it many times over.’
Gared grunted. ‘Corespawned right.’
‘But Rojer has the right of it,’ Leesha said. ‘If you let the count give you a title, it’s the same as saying the Cutters are part of the Angierian army.’
Gared shrugged. ‘Ent we? You two act like I’m the dim one, but it seems to me like you’ve forgotten whose side we’re on, carrying on in the sheets with Krasians and forgetting who was there for us when we needed them.’
‘It sure as the Core wasn’t Duke Rhinebeck,’ Rojer said.
Gared nodded. ‘Know that. Was the Deliverer done it. Painted Man’s letting the count lead the Hollow for now, that’s good enough for me. Tomorrow he says chop the count’s head off, I’ll do that, too.’
‘And all the Cutters with you,’ Leesha said in disgust.
‘Ay, that’s right. They follow me. Not you, Leesh.’ He nodded to Rojer. ‘And not fiddle-boy here, either. You two can go back to pickin’ herbs and spinning reels. The men got this.’
‘Creator help us,’ Leesha muttered as he turned his back and strode ahead.
‘The Hollow has changed since you were last here, mistress.’
Thamos sat on a heavy throne atop a raised dais at the head of his receiving hall. Still under construction, the walls and high ceiling were partly bare wood and partly beams covered in heavy tarp. The air was thick with dust and the smell of mixing crete, amplified by her headache. Freshly swept sawdust crunched beneath her shoes. Still the room was daunting in its sheer size, and would likely be breathtaking when fully appointed.
Adding to the trappings of power, the count was dressed in full armour, his spear close to hand. His beard was impeccably groomed to accentuate a sharp, handsome jaw, his waistline trim, and his shoulders broad. He looked every inch a noble soldier. A servant stood behind him, holding the count’s helm and shield as if he might be called to battle at any moment.
At Thamos’ right hand was Tender Hayes, the man Araine had promised in their meeting those months ago. Honest in his faith and fair, she said, but Angierian in his heart.
The Duchess Mum was behind everything the Angierians did, whether they knew it or not. Leesha had witnessed the woman’s power first-hand on her last visit to court. The duke and elder princes were kept in line by her first minister, Janson, but Leesha had long suspected that the youngest reported directly to her.
In that meeting, Araine had promised to send Thamos and his soldiers as well, but left out the part about making him count.
I should have seen this coming, Leesha thought. The woman’s played me for a fool again, even after scolding me to keep up with the dance.
In front of the throne, Lord Arther stood at a small writing podium, pen in hand with an open ledger and a fresh pot of ink. Captain Gamon stood to the left, straight-backed with his spear planted firmly on the floor. Behind him, a footman held his helm and shield.
‘Changed quite a bit it seems, Your Highness,’ Leesha said with a curtsy. ‘We don’t normally surround our citizens with drawn bows on their return from a journey.’
‘Our citizens did not used to go off into our enemies’ midst without permission from the crown,’ Thamos said.
‘Perhaps that’s because we never had enemies before,’ Leesha said. ‘I had fifty Krasian warriors in my town with an army at their backs, and did the best I could to keep my people safe. We didn’t have a week and more to wait on a response from the crown, and there’s nothing in the town charter that says I can’t come and go as I please in any event.’
Thamos sighed. ‘You’ve gotten used to having your own way in Cutter’s Hollow, mistress. Well enough when all you were good for was a few caravans of wood each year, but all that has changed. I am lord of the Hollow and its environs now. Your town council answers to me, and not the other way around. I can wipe my arse with your charter.’
Leesha smiled. ‘Do as you please, Highness, but do not be surprised to find the Hollowers don’t take it kindly if you do.’
‘Threats, mistress?’ Thamos asked. ‘After the ivy throne has answered your plea for aid, sending food, supplies, engineers, Warders, and soldiers to succour the refugees and fortify against the Krasians?’
‘No threat,’ Leesha said. ‘We are thankful for your aid and grateful to His Grace for the consideration he has given. I am simply offering a piece of advice.’
‘And what “advice” do you have regarding the company of enemy soldiers you brought with you?’ Thamos asked. ‘Can you give me a reason not to arrest and execute the lot of them?’
‘I have seen the Krasian army,’ Leesha told him. ‘Harming my escort, sent in good faith to keep us safe on the road and open relations between our peoples, would be tantamount to starting a war we cannot hope to win.’
‘You’re a fool if you think we will surrender an inch of ground to them,’ Thamos growled.
Leesha nodded. ‘Which is why you should smile and bide your time while the Hollow gets its feet under it. Treat our guests with courtesy. Show them our way of life is a good one, and that we, too, are strong.’
Thamos shook his head. ‘I will not have Krasian spies living and moving freely about the greatwards of the Hollow.’
Leesha shrugged. ‘Then you shall not. I will let them stay on my land.’
‘Your land?’ Thamos asked.
‘Bruna was given a thousand acres of hereditary land by your father, Duke Rhinebeck the Second.’ She smiled. ‘A gift for midwifing Your Highness, I believe.’
Thamos’ face reddened, and Leesha let the grin slip from her face. ‘When Bruna died, she left me the land in her will. I have deliberately kept every acre off the greatwards.’
‘The land around the cottage Darsy keeps?’ Thamos asked. ‘You doubt my sincerity in offering my walls to these people, and then suggest instead they live on unwarded land?’
‘My lands are safer than you might expect, Highness,’ Leesha said. ‘Without their spears, there aren’t enough of them to cause a real problem, especially with their wives and children in tow. The Krasians bring gifts and goods to trade, with the promise of more. Let them do business, and send merchant spies of your own in return. If we cannot avert war, it is in our best interest to delay it while we build o
ur forces and learn our enemies’ ways.’
Thamos wiped the frustration from his face, losing most of the tension in his shoulders. ‘Mother said you’d be like this.’
Leesha smiled. ‘The Duchess Mum knows me well. She is in good health, I presume?’
Thamos seemed to brighten a bit at the mention of his mother. ‘Not as vital as she once was, but I think in the end she will outlive us all.’
Leesha nodded. ‘Some women have too much will to die before their work is done.’
‘Mother sends her regards,’ Thamos went on. ‘And gifts.’
‘Gifts?’ Leesha asked.
‘First things first,’ Thamos said, turning his gaze on Gared. ‘Gared Cutter?’
Gared stepped forth. ‘Ay, Yur Highness?’
Arther took a small scroll from his podium and broke the seal, unrolling it to read: ‘“Gared Cutter, son of Steave of the village of Cutter’s Hollow, in the name of His Grace, Duke Rhinebeck the Third, Wearer of the Ivy Crown, Protector of the Forest Fortress and Duke of Angiers, you are hereby requested and required, in the year three hundred and thirty-three after the Return, to assume the rank of captain of the Cutters in service to His Grace, and the title of Squire at court. You will be given a district of the Hollow to oversee and tax for the upkeep of your household, and report only to His Highness Lord Thamos, Marshal of the Wooden Soldiers.” Do you accept this honour, and this duty?’
A wide grin split Gared’s face. ‘Captain, eh? Squire?’
‘Do. Not. Accept,’ Leesha said through gritted teeth. It was a meaningless title. Gared was already the leader of the Cutters. This was all just a ploy to get him to swear fealty to the crown, and admit that the Cutters were part of Rhinebeck’s army and not a private force.
Gared chuckled. ‘Don’t worry. Not gonna.’
He looked up at the count. ‘Thanks all the same, Yur Highness, but there’s a lot more Cutters in the Hollow than Wooden Soldiers.’
Everyone in the room tensed. Thamos’ hand found the haft of his spear. ‘And just what are you saying, Mr Cutter?’