‘What is this?’ Amanvah asked.
‘The bride and groom will sit on those chairs,’ Rojer said, pointing, ‘which the Hollowers will raise up on poles and carry them around the square for all to see. Normally the procession goes to the couple’s new home, but when they don’t have one, they use the wedding pavilion. The Par’chin will carry his bride over the threshold, and the whole town will cause a ruckus while they … Ah …’
‘Stick each other,’ Kendall supplied.
‘Consummate,’ Rojer said. He glanced to see if his wives would be offended, but Amanvah and Sikvah seemed delighted at the prospect. They followed along eagerly as the procession circled the Corelings’ Graveyard three times, then arrived at the pavilion. Arlen leapt lightly down from the high perch, catching Renna as she fell into his arms. He kissed her as they entered the pavilion and closed the flap behind them.
Immediately Amanvah gave an ululating cry, amplified tenfold by her warded choker. Sikvah and the other Krasian women followed suit as the rest of the Hollowers began to cheer and clap and stomp their feet, banging pots, pans, and ale barrels, clashing mugs, and doing whatever else they could to form a cacophony. Leesha set off more flamework.
Only the Sharum did not participate. Kaval glowered at the tent, and Rojer feared he would try to torch it.
Amanvah caught his stare. ‘If you cannot be polite, Drillmaster, then make yourself useful. Take your men and kill seven alagai in honour of the union, one for every pillar of Heaven.’
Kaval looked frustrated as he bowed. ‘We do not have our spears, dama’ting.’
Amanvah’s eyebrows formed a tight V, and both Rojer and Kaval knew she was losing patience. ‘For more than three hundred years, Sharum killed alagai without warded spears, Drillmaster. Have the battle wards made you weak? Have you forgotten your skills?’
Kaval knelt and pressed his forehead to the cobbles. ‘Forgive me, dama’ting. It will be done.’ He seemed almost relieved as he signalled the other men and they left the Corelings’ Graveyard.
Any excuse to kill demons, Rojer thought.
‘If they’re killin’ seven, then we’re killin’ seventy,’ Gared said to Wonda. ‘Cutters! Get your axes! We’re going to give the Deliverer a wedding present: a demon pyre so big the Creator will see it from Heaven!’
Amanvah watched the Cutters muster and head off into the night, and she sighed, taking Rojer’s arm.
‘Father is right,’ she said. ‘Your people are not so different from ours.’
Wonda had done as Leesha asked, bringing her a small bottle of amber liquid. Leesha was not used to strong drink and had no idea what it was, but it burned her throat and warmed her limbs like the couzi Abban had given her, and soon she was in a comfortable fog, taking joy in the excited faces of children and adults alike in her displays of flamework.
But when they paraded Arlen and his new bride around the whole ripping graveyard three times before taking them to the wedding pavilion, it almost seemed like her children were mocking her. They all knew she shined on Arlen Bales. It had been the talk of the town.
Just like it had been with Marick. And Gared. It seemed no matter what she did, her love life was always the subject of whispers at her back.
The Hollowers’ raucous laughter cut at her. Did they delight in humiliating her so? Had she truly become her mother?
Again she saw Elona with Gared in her mind’s eye. But then Gared vanished and it was Arlen, whose bare warded flesh she had spent so many hours studying, holding her mother aloft with little more than his cock. Elona looked at Leesha and laughed, continuing to grind her hips and bounce atop him. Then her mother was replaced with Renna Tanner, shrieking with delight as Arlen thrust into her.
She could swear she heard the sound of them coupling in the wedding pavilion, even over the roar of the crowd. She set off festival crackers, but it did no good. She pulled a large rocket from her dwindling supply of flamework and set its stick base between a pair of loose cobbles, hoping the boom would put a ringing in her ears for the next few hours.
But she had trouble getting the rocket to stand straight, and when she struck the match, she burned her fingers and dropped it with a yelp, sucking them as tears ran down her face.
‘Night, look at you, you’re piss drunk,’ a voice said, and Leesha turned to see Darsy looming over her.
‘Give me those,’ Darsy said, snatching the matches from Leesha’s hand. ‘They call me woodbrained, but even I know drink and flamework don’t mix. Are you trying to lose a few fingers? Set a house on fire? Kill someone?’
‘Don’t you lecture me, Darsy Cutter,’ Leesha snapped. ‘I am Gatherer of the Hollow, not you.’
‘Then act like it,’ another voice said, and Leesha saw Elona come to stand beside Darsy. The last person in the world she wanted to see. ‘What would Bruna say if she saw you like this?’
We guard the secrets of fire for a reason, Bruna said. Men cannot be trusted to respect such power.
Suddenly Leesha felt horribly ashamed. Bruna would have spat at her feet right now, or struck her with her stick for the first time.
And Leesha knew she deserved it. The idea of letting down her mentor so was too much, and she shook, beginning to weep.
Darsy caught her and held her close, hiding the moment of weakness from the crowd. ‘S’all right, Leesha,’ she whispered. ‘We all have our moments. You go on with your mum. I’ll handle the flamework.’
Leesha sniffed and nodded, wiping her eyes and standing up straight as they broke apart. She walked slowly over to her mother, trying hard not to stumble on the uneven cobbles. When Elona offered her arm, Leesha took it with dignity. Only her mother knew how heavily she leaned on it.
‘Just a bit farther and you can rest,’ Elona said. They moved over to one of the many benches that surrounded the cobbles, and the goodwives there quickly rose, dipping quick curtsies as they yielded the seat.
‘All right,’ Elona said. ‘How much have you had?’
Leesha shrugged. She fumbled in her apron, pulling out the bottle Wonda had given her and handing it to her mother. Elona held it to the light, then pulled the cork and sniffed at it. She snorted and took a pull. ‘I’d be starting to feel a tingle myself if I drank that much, so I’d wager you must be ready to slosh up everything you’ve eaten since the morning purge.’
Leesha shook her head. ‘Just need a minute to catch my breath.’
‘Well you’re not going to get it,’ Elona said, straightening and giving the laces of her dress a subtle tug to lower her neckline the way she did any time a man entered the room. ‘Eyes in front. Don’t slosh.’
Leesha looked up, seeing Count Thamos approaching, looking splendid in his fine clothes and jewels. A few Wooden Soldiers shadowed his steps, but the count seemed not to notice them, his handsome smile relaxed and easy. He made a leg in that smug way Royals had, bowing when their station did not demand it.
‘A pleasure to see you again, mistress,’ he said, and turned to Elona. ‘Surely I would have heard if you had a sister, so this beautiful woman must be your mother, infamous Mrs Paper.’
Leesha rolled her eyes. She had at least expected the prince to be more original. If she had a klat for every time a man used that line to ingratiate himself with Elona, she’d be richer than Duke Rhinebeck.
Elona’s response was likewise identical each time, tittering like she had never heard such cleverness while looking down and blushing fetchingly. Leesha doubted anything could truly make Elona blush, but her mother could do it on command.