The duke had roared, and Arrick had returned from the hamlets to find his royal commission torn to shreds. He was given barely an hour to remove his possessions and himself from the duke’s manse. The duke had never spoken publicly of the reasons for his expulsion, and there had been a few patrons to take him in at first, but Arrick began drinking more and more, alienating one after another until he and Rojer seldom knew during the day where they would stay that night. They owed money to every bartender and innkeep in the city.
Rojer relived all that in an instant, and looked at Thamos, wondering if he was as fickle as his brother. Not that it mattered. Arrick, for his part, had been the duke’s man, happy to tell people of new taxes or privations, secure in his own position. Rojer had no such desire to speak for Thamos, a man he knew only for his reputation as a short-tempered womanizer.
He made his best leg, his face calm. ‘You honour me, Highness, but I fear I must refuse.’
Arther and Gamon both tensed, but kept silent. Tender Hayes shook his head as if Rojer were a fool.
‘Think carefully about this, Mr Inn,’ Thamos said. ‘With your heathen bride, you would be an ideal ambassador to the court of the desert demon, and your own mistress advises that we need just that. The throne would be most generous. You could even take lands and a title, as General Gared has.’
Rojer shrugged. ‘Leesha Paper isn’t my mistress, and I want none of what Gared has. I want only to train my apprentices and the Jongleurs who came to the Hollow with you to charm corelings.’
Thamos’ eyes became hard. ‘I see no reason to allow my Jongleurs to train with someone who will not swear fealty to me.’
Rojer bowed. ‘With all due respect, Highness, they’re not your Jongleurs. They are mine, bought and paid for legally from Guildmaster Cholls. I have the writs. If you deny me those men, not only will you be wasting power to save lives, but every performer in Angiers will soon be singing that Count Thamos of the Hollow does not honour other men’s debts.’
For the first time, Thamos looked truly angry, but Tender Hayes laid a gentle hand on his arm, calming him.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Your little entourage can stay at the inn if Speaker Smitt will still have you. But I will not forget this.’
Rojer made another leg. ‘Thank you, Your Highness.’
Thamos took a calming breath. ‘Now, as for the gifts from my mother …’
Thamos gestured to Arther, who produced a small scroll bound in green ribbon, handing it to Leesha. ‘Her Grace still controls the affairs of women in Angiers, and has appointed you Royal Gatherer of Hollow County.’
Leesha fought to keep her face calm. The Duchess Mum had her in check and she knew it, for she could not sidestep as Rojer had. Legally, a Royal Gatherer outranked all others. Leesha couldn’t refuse without having someone else take the spot and begin to leach away at her own power in the Hollow, but accepting it was little different than Gared accepting a title. She would be legitimizing Thamos’ rule and accepting his dominance. Also, her position would effectively make her his personal Gatherer. The idea of having to see the count unclothed sickened her, though that was becoming her natural state these days. She stroked her bodice, imagining the life taking root beneath.
The room was deathly quiet, waiting for her response. Thamos looked as if he expected her to refuse as Rojer had. She wasn’t sure if that would please him or not.
‘Maybe you’ll get a uniform to go with that fancy title,’ Gared said smugly, and she wanted to throw a dash of pepper in his face.
At last she curtsied, a slight tug at her skirts and a shallow dip. ‘I’m honoured to consider the offer, Highness. You’ll have my answer within the week.’
Thamos pursed his lips, then shrugged. ‘We look forward to your response. Please have it by Seventhday, in case I need to send to Angiers for another to take the position instead.’
Leesha nodded her assent, and Thamos turned to Wonda. ‘As for you, Miss Cutter, I have no lands or titles to offer you, no rank or station, but my mother has taken an especial liking to you, and has sent you a gift.’ A servant wheeled in a clothing rack holding dozens of doublets, each emblazoned with Duchess Araine’s seal, a wooden crown set over an embroidery hoop.
‘Women cannot hold rank in the military, but the bow-women of the Hollow are legendary, and Mother wishes to be your patroness.’
The servant selected one of the doublets and approached Wonda. ‘May I?’
Wonda nodded numbly. The man removed her warded cloak, and she bent as he lifted the thick doublet over her head. Wonda stroked it in wonder. She bowed. ‘Ent ever had clothes so fine. Please thank Her Grace.’
Thamos smiled. ‘The doublets are a trifle. You may give them to other women you deem worthy, but Mother was adamant that the first go to you. The crown will also give purse for a team of bowyers, fletchers, and their materials.’ He gestured again, and the guards opened a wall flap, allowing in a middle-aged man, thin, with wiry muscles and a doublet emblazoned with the hammer and chisel of the Artisans’ Guild. He was followed by three young men who carried bundles of oiled cloth they carefully laid on the floor. They unrolled them to reveal fine wooden armour, beautifully warded and shining with enamel just like that worn by the Wooden Soldiers. Wonda gasped.
‘A proper fitting can be arranged later, but indulge us and try the breastplate, at least,’ Thamos said.
Wonda nodded, and the artisan took the piece and began strapping it on. Leesha had half expected it to give her a woman’s shape, implying breasts where there were none to speak of, but the duchess was cannier than that, and the breastplate fit perfectly. She looked magnificent.
‘It’s so light,’ Wonda marvelled.
The artisan nodded, smiling. ‘We had first thought to make you a proper metal mesh, but archers must be quick and agile. Wooden armour will protect you as well as the finest Milnese steel at a fraction the weight.’
Leesha sighed. It was another ploy by the Duchess Mum to leach at her power. Wonda had made her loyalties clear at their tea, and Araine had not been pleased by it. Leesha wanted to tell Wonda to send the armour back with her regrets. The girl would do it in an instant if Leesha told her to, but looking at her face, beaming with happiness as it so seldom did since the demons took her father and left her scarred, Leesha did not have the heart.
Rojer had begun to relax while everyone cooed over Wonda’s new breastplate, but Thamos met his eyes again and he felt his muscles clench right back up.
‘Now,’ Thamos said, rubbing his hands together. ‘I suppose we should see to our guests.’ Arther signalled the door guards, who admitted Amanvah, Enkido, Kaval, and Coliv.
‘Princess Amanvah of Krasia,’ Arther called loudly, his voice easily filling the great hall, ‘His Royal Highness Count Thamos, Prince of Angiers, Marshal of the Wooden Soldiers, and Lord of Hollow County, bids you and your counsellors welcome to his court.’
‘There had best be a good reason why I have been kept waiting,’ Amanvah said, ‘and for the rudeness of your chi’Sharum when we came to your court in peace and goodwill.’ She flicked a derisive finger at Captain Gamon. ‘In Krasia, we have men whipped for showing such poor manners to their betters.’
Rojer sighed. This was not going to go well.
Thamos seemed caught off guard by her aggressive posture. ‘Apologies, Princess, if you were treated rudely upon your arrival.’ He glanced at Gamon. ‘I assure you I will school my man in proper etiquette in the future. As to the delay, surely you cannot begrudge me a brief audience alone with my subjects before receiving you.’
‘Made Gared a general,’ Rojer said, ‘and offered me a commission as his royal herald.’
Amanvah glanced at Rojer and laughed, a sharp bark that echoed in the chamber.