‘This amuses you?’ Thamos asked. His voice was hardening as his patience grew thin.
Amanvah looked back at the count, her eyes narrowing. ‘As if my husband would refuse the patronage of the ruler of all that is and give himself instead to a minor princeling. The very notion is ridiculous.’
‘Minor princeling?’ Thamos asked, his voice a razor.
Amanvah turned to Rojer. ‘Count. This is beneath a duke in your culture?’
‘His Highness is third in line to the ivy throne,’ Rojer supplied.
Amanvah nodded and turned back to Thamos. ‘My father met one of your Northland dukes — Edon the Fourth, of Rizon. When Duke Edon knelt with his head pressed to the floor and tearfully begged for his life, he was made to swear utter fealty to Shar’Dama Ka, and lick the dirt from the sandals of all twelve Damaji. He would have sucked their cocks, if my father had even hinted that it would have pleased him.’
Thamos’ look of impatience turned to one of rage. His face reddened, and Rojer could almost hear the sound of his teeth grinding. His hand gripped his spear so tightly it looked like the shaft would break in half.
‘It doesn’t matter!’ Rojer snapped. ‘I have no patron, and want none! I will write what I want to write and sing what I want to sing, and to the Core with anyone who says otherwise!’
Amanvah nodded. ‘As it should be.’
Rojer looked curiously at the comment, but shrugged it off. ‘And you, wife, will keep a civil tongue behind your veil.’
‘Your husband speaks wisdom,’ Thamos said. ‘Your father will not find Angiers as weak as Rizon. We are ready for him.’
‘The Rizonans were weak once,’ Amanvah said. ‘My father is making them strong. He sees the Hollow is already strong, and offers to make you an independent tribe, autonomous and with your own leaders. In return, he asks only two things.’
‘And what are those?’ Thamos demanded. ‘What is a fair price to buy back what we already have?’
‘First,’ Amanvah said, ‘that you accept that he is Shar’Dama Ka, and follow him when the First War begins.’
‘First War?’ Thamos asked.
Tender Hayes leaned in to him. ‘The Final Battle, Your Highness. When the Deliverer unites mankind and leads us to drive the demons back to the Core.’
Amanvah nodded. ‘It is foretold in your Canon much as in the Evejah, is it not, Tender?’
Tender Hayes nodded. ‘Indeed. But we have seen nothing to hint that your father is the one foretold. The Deliverer may already be among us, or come tomorrow, or a thousand years from now. Nothing in the Canon tells us that he will bring rape, murder, and heathen religion with him.’
‘All wars bring bloodshed and loss,’ Amanvah said. ‘It is the price of unity, and a fair one. But my father is offering you peace, and you would be wise to take it.’
Thamos scowled. ‘And what is the second price of this generous peace?’
Amanvah smiled. ‘That Mistress Paper agree to be his bride, of course.’
There was a rustling from off to the side, and the Painted Man stepped out from behind the heavy tarp that served as a wall. ‘That ent gonna happen.’
Everyone stood shocked. It had only been a few months since Leesha had seen him last, but as Darsy said, Arlen had changed greatly in that time. Gone were his Tender’s robes — he was clad now in simple dungarees and a faded white shirt, unlaced at the front to show part of the great ward tattooed there. His warded feet were bare as he padded on the cold floor.
But rather than humanizing him as she might have expected, the change only made Arlen stand out more, the hundreds of intricate wards on his neck and shaved head marking him in ways the Tender’s robes and hood had kept hidden.
A step behind him stood the one Darsy had spoken of. Renna Tanner. His promised. Leesha scanned her critically, but the young woman’s looks were so outlandish she was nearly impossible to judge. She was perhaps in her early twenties, her hair roughly hewn on top with a long, thick braid hanging down her back. She was barely clad, wearing only a tight vest and a rough homespun skirt slit almost to the waist on either side. At her belt was a heavy knife, a leather pouch, and a long beaded necklace. Like Arlen, she was covered from head to toe in wards, though they had the faded look of blackstem about them rather than true tattoos.
Corespawn him, Leesha thought. This after making me swear an oath not to do the same.
‘What makes you think you have a right to tell me who I will or will not marry?’ she demanded as Arlen approached her.
‘Know your prospective bridegroom a lot better than you,’ Arlen said. ‘You were gone much longer, I was coming to save you.’
Leesha felt another flare of anger and didn’t bother to hide it. ‘I didn’t need saving.’
‘This time,’ Arlen said. ‘Don’t be fooled by the silk pillows and fancy manners. Krasians come to you with smiles, but there are fangs beneath. Ahmann Jardir most of all.’
‘Who are you, to speak so familiarly of my holy father?’ Amanvah demanded.
Arlen turned to the dama’ting, dipping a shallow bow and switching smoothly to Krasian so flawless he sounded like a native. ‘He is my ajin’pal. I am Arlen asu Jeph am’Bales am’Brook, known to your people as …’
‘Par’chin!’ Kaval growled. He turned to Coliv and made a quick gesture across his throat.
The Watcher reacted instantly, reaching into his black robes and flinging out an arm, sending a spray of sharpened metal triangles flying at Arlen. Leesha feared he would be killed, but Arlen didn’t even flinch or step aside. His arm was a blur as he batted the spinning blades away as easily as leaves borne on a gentle breeze. They clattered to the ground harmlessly, but the drillmaster and Watcher were already moving to attack him from opposite flanks. Both had produced hidden weapons — Coliv a sickle with a long, weighted chain attached, and Kaval two short staves.
‘I taught you to fight, Par’chin,’ Kaval said. ‘Do you honestly think yourself the match of true Sharum?’
Arlen smiled as he set his feet in a fighting stance. ‘I’ve come a long way since the last time you and Coliv tried to murder me, Drillmaster. And you had more men then.’
Murder? Leesha thought, but before the full weight of it sank in, Coliv hurled the weighted end of his chain at Arlen from behind. It wrapped around one of Arlen’s wrists, but Arlen grabbed it and yanked hard, pulling Coliv off balance. Kaval attempted to use the distraction to launch his own attack, spinning the staves in a blur of motion, but Arlen had grabbed a length of chain in his free hand, pulling it taut to block the first two blows. The third he caught fast in a twist of chain and heel-kicked the drillmaster onto his back.
Leesha heard ribs crack with the blow, but the drillmaster rolled to his feet instantly, tossing the remaining staff to his left hand as he pulled a knife with his right.
‘Stop this madness!’ Leesha shouted, but no one was listening. Thamos’ guards looked ready to intervene, but the count gave no command, watching the battle with great interest. Gared and Wonda, too, looked on in dumbfounded amazement.
Coliv had managed to keep his feet, detaching the sickle from its chain and using a short punch-dagger in his free hand. His attacks were quick and precise, full of feints and reversals, but Arlen blocked them casually, toying with him as Kaval moved back into the fight, knife leading for Arlen’s back.
Renna rushed to stop him, but she passed too close to Amanvah, and Enkido moved to intercept her. He grabbed at her but she was too quick, slipping out of reach then coming back in fast with a roundhouse kick that connected solidly with his solar plexus.
The eunuch made no sound and never lost control, rolling with the blow and spinning to place himself back-to-back with her. He caught her trailing braid and pulled it hard over his shoulder.