‘You won’t,’ Leesha said.
‘He is a Krevakh Watcher,’ Kaval said. ‘I assure you, mistress, the greenlanders will never even know he is there.’
‘I’m not worried about them,’ Leesha said. ‘I want him where I can see him. These people have reason for caution, but we aren’t going to do anything to threaten them.’
A moment later the town square came into view, surrounded by homes and shopfronts. There were five men waiting on the inn steps, two with nocked hunting bows, and two more with long pitchforks.
Leesha called a halt and stepped out of her carriage. Immediately she was joined by Rojer, Gared, Wonda, Amanvah, Enkido, Shamavah, and Kaval. ‘Let me do the talking,’ Leesha said as they approached the inn.
‘They do not appear interested in talking, mistress,’ Kaval said, nodding to both sides, where she saw bowmen at every window around the town square.
‘They will not shoot unless we give them cause,’ Leesha said, wishing she was as confident as her words. She spread her pocketed apron so that all could see she was a Herb Gatherer. Rojer’s patchwork cloak announced him as a Jongleur — another point in their favour.
Rojer and Enkido placed themselves between the bows and Amanvah, with Gared in turn protecting Rojer. Leesha was similarly surrounded by Kaval and Wonda.
‘Ay, the inn!’ Rojer cried. ‘We mean no harm, seeking only safe succour, for which we can pay. May we approach?’
‘Leave your spears right there!’ one of the men cried.
‘I’ll do no such-’ Kaval began.
‘Your spear or yourself, Drillmaster,’ Leesha cut in. ‘It’s a fair request, and they could as easily drop you where you stand.’ Kaval let out a low growl, but he bent and laid down his spear, as did Enkido.
‘Who’re you, then?’ the lead man asked when they made it to the porch.
‘Leesha Paper,’ Leesha said.
The man blinked. ‘Mistress of the Hollow?’
Leesha smiled. ‘The same.’
The man’s eyes narrowed. ‘What are you doing so far south? And with the likes of them?’ He nodded at the Krasians.
‘We are returning from a meeting with the Krasian leader,’ Leesha said, ‘and wish to spend the night in Greenmeadow.’
‘Since when do Herb Gatherers go on diplomacy missions?’ the man asked. ‘That’s Messenger work.’
Rojer stepped forward, extending a hand with a sweep of his motley cloak. ‘I am the herald of Deliverer’s Hollow. Rojer Halfgrip, former apprentice to Arrick Sweetsong, one-time herald of Duke Rhinebeck of Angiers.’
‘Halfgrip?’ the man asked. ‘The one they call the fiddle wizard?’ Rojer smiled widely at that, nodding.
‘You have our names, but have not given yours,’ Leesha said. ‘I’m guessing you are Havold, the Town Speaker?’
‘Ay, how d’you know that?’ the man demanded.
‘Your Herb Gatherer, Mistress Ana, once wrote to me for advice on curing your daughter Thea of the gasping cough,’ Leesha said. ‘She is well, I take it?’
‘That was ten years ago,’ Havold said. ‘She has children of her own now, and I don’t care for the thought of them sleeping not half a mile from a bunch of murdering Krasians. We heard the stories from those that passed through last winter, running from them.’ His bearded lip curled at Kaval and Enkido, showing the tip of one of his canines.
Leesha prayed the drillmaster would not rise to the bait, and breathed a sigh when he remained silent. ‘I cannot speak for the people as a whole, but I can vouch for the men in my caravan. If left alone, they will keep to themselves and harm no one. Most will remain in their carts on the road, but my parents are elderly and I would dearly appreciate a few beds for the night. As my herald told you, we can pay, in both gold and entertainment.’
Havold’s mouth was a hard line, but he nodded.
Leesha sat in the taproom with her parents, Gared, Wonda, Kaval, and Enkido as Rojer tuned his fiddle. He sat in a plain hard-back chair in a dimly lit corner, Amanvah and Sikvah kneeling on clean cloth to either side of him. Leesha could tell the drillmaster and eunuch were uneasy with Amanvah and Sikvah on the stage — such things were unheard of in Krasia — but they kept their peace after a few harsh whispers from the dama’ting. The other tables and bar stools were packed with Meadowers, with more standing at the back. A Jongleur would draw a crowd in any event, but Leesha could see as many eyes on the Krasians at her table as on the stage, not all of them friendly. The general din kept her from making out details, but there was angry murmuring throughout the room.
At least until the music began.
Rojer had done nothing to warm the crowd as he had the day before. No acrobatics or juggling, no magic tricks, jokes, or stories. With his wives on stage, he played and nothing more.
As he had in Ahmann’s dining hall, Rojer began with a slow, quiet melody, building in complexity and volume until the sound filled the room, wrapping everyone in its spell. The crowd fell silent, eyes glazing. In her heart, Leesha knew his playing was not truly magic, but the way human and demon both were moved by it belied that fact. He had a gift none could deny.
When the music built to a crescendo, Amanvah and Sikvah began to sing, wordlessly at first, but then in perfect Thesan:
Leesha felt an ache in her hand, and realized she had been clutching her teacup so hard her knuckles showed white. She forced herself to relax and glance around a room holding its collective breath. At the last verse she expected the Krasians to suddenly produce weapons — though those had all been left in their rooms — or the Meadowers to riot. Instead, all burst into a cacophony of sound. Kaval and Enkido roared and stomped their feet, sending bits of dust drifting down from the rafters. The clapping of the Thesans was like an entire box of festival crackers.
Not for the first time, she had underestimated Rojer. He seemed a boy, eighteen summers old, with only the barest whisper of hair on his face. Often his actions made him seem younger still — petulant, impetuous, and downright foolhardy. Leesha was forever fretting when he ignored her advice, sure she knew better than he, sure she could solve all his problems if he would only listen and do as he was told.