Leesha sat in Bruna’s favorite rocker, wrapped in the old woman’s shawl as she worked her needlepoint, trying to ignore the blinding pain behind her eye. Darsy had taken care of the cottage in her absence, but the garden showed the woman still had a brown thumb, and she was hopeless at keeping things in their proper place. It would be days before the place was restored to Leesha’s satisfaction, everything just so.

Even so, simply being back in her mentor’s chair and shawl was an enormous comfort. Many times in recent weeks she had doubted she might ever see home again. Even now, it seemed almost surreal.

But why shouldn’t it? She was home, but in countless ways things would never be the same. There was a Royal in the Hollow now, determined to throw out their old ways, and much of Leesha’s power in the process. Could Leesha stop him? Should she?

There were Krasians building a tent city in her backyard, on land Bruna had entrusted to her. Would they help bring about the peace Leesha dreamed of, or be a cancer in the center of the Hollow, as she saw in her nightmares?

Arlen, whom she had thought would always keep the Hollow safe, had left them to fend for themselves, and come back a changed man. It remained to be seen if this was for better or worse.

And there’s a baby in my belly.

Even if the chemics hadn’t confirmed it, every day made her more and more certain of the life growing within her. Ahmann Jardir’s child. It had to be, for she had lain with no other—but that, too, seemed surreal. Arlen had feared putting a demon child in her, and she told him she did not care. Now the demon of the desert had planted a child in her, and she told herself the same, but was it true? The child, she would love and cherish, but how many lives would be lost when Ahmann came forward to claim it? She could not hide her state forever. Night, the dama’ting might already have seen it in their foretellings.

She stroked her belly, feeling a tear begin a slow drift down her nose. Please be a girl.

The thought filled her with shame. Would she love a boy any less? Of course not. But Ahmann would not likely bring an army north for a daughter.

Again, she thought of her mother’s words. Find a man and bed him quick. Elona certainly knew how to do that.

But while her mother was vile, she was often right. Elona saw the world through the lens of her own desires, and understood the desires of others in a way logical Leesha never could. Was what Leesha had planned to do with Gared—bedding him and convincing all that her child was his—any less vile than Elona having her way with the son of her old lover behind her husband’s back?

Night, Leesha thought. I think my plan was worse.

The worst of it was, she was still considering it. Not with Gared, of course, but surely there were other candidates—no shortage of brave, strong men in the Hollow. Even Yon Gray was increasingly young and handsome, and fifteen years a widower. He had pinched her bottom enough times to let her know he was interested, but it had been harmless at the time—the hopeless fancies of a dirty old man. Now …

She shuddered at the thought, remembering his toothless grin. No, not Yon. But there were others. How many lives could be saved if her child’s heritage was kept secret?

Of course, Ahmann might as soon march north to kill the man who had laid hands on his intended. Night, Kaval would likely do it for him. It was a terrifying thought, but not easily dismissed. Ahmann might truly believe he was doing what was needed to save the world, but he was ruthless in pursuit of that goal, and he had decided Leesha—or at least, what was between her legs—was his gateway to the North. He would murder anyone who tried to touch her.

Just like he tried to murder Arlen. She didn’t want to believe it, wanted to heap it with Arlen’s dissembling about why he did not want her, but both would-be Deliverers were honest to a fault. If he said it, she believed him. But as with Ahmann’s dancing around the subject of the Par’chin, so, too, were Arlen’s comments cryptic. It was time to make him come clean.

Night, what will he think when he sees my belly swell?

In the distance she heard music, heralding Rojer’s approach. They had agreed to speak privately before Arlen arrived, but Leesha hadn’t realized it was so late. She looked to the window and saw it was near twilight, her needlepoint lying forgotten on her lap. The sky was darkening earlier and earlier each day. Solstice was well past, and the light grew shorter as darkness drew strength. She shuddered at the thought.

But as the music drew nearer, it drove away Leesha’s fears and worries the same way it did demons. She put a kettle on the fire and left the door open for him, knowing Wonda was patrolling the yard, keeping other visitors safely at bay.

Rojer entered soon after, holding his fiddle and bow in one hand. Leesha’s eyes flicked to the base, but the warded chinrest was absent.

“Left it back at the inn,” Rojer said. He pointed with his bow at Bruna’s ancient shawl about Leesha’s shoulders. “Couldn’t wait to wrap that old rag around you, could you?”

Leesha fingered the old knitted yarn, mended countless times over the years by the woman’s skilled fingers. There were graybeards in the Hollow who said she had worn it when they were lads, half a century and more ago. Leesha never washed it, and it still smelled of Bruna, taking her back to a time when this cottage was the safest place in the world. “You have your talismans, Rojer, and I have mine.”

Rojer threw his motley Cloak of Unsight, warded by Leesha herself, over a chair back, completely disregarding the cloak hooks by the door. He slung his bag of marvels atop it and plopped into the chair, putting his feet on the table, fiddle tucked under his chin. “Fair and true.”

Leesha gave his chair a kick as she went to fetch the teacups and biscuits, knocking his feet down. “What did you have to tell your wives to let you come unescorted?”

“Easier than you’d think,” Rojer said. “Got a pat on the head and some nonsense about dice, then she sent me on my way.”

“Nothing about those dice is easy,” Leesha said, bringing the tea.

“Honest word,” Rojer nodded. “But their power seems real enough.”

Leesha fought the urge to spit. “A crutch to educate their guesses a bit, but if they were as powerful as the dama’ting would have us think, the Krasians would already have every woman in the North in a veil and every man in a spearwall.”

“Good crutch,” Rojer said, taking a sip of tea. His face screwed up. “You always skimp on the sugar.” He took a flask out of his pocket and poured a bit of caramel-colored liquid into the cup. Leesha frowned, but he simply smiled, raising the cup to her before taking a sip. “Fixed. But we can talk bitter tea and demon dice later. Time is short to discuss the crazy girl.”

Leesha didn’t have to ask whom he meant. An image of Renna Tanner flashed in her mind, the young woman lifting Enkido over her head. Leesha had gotten a good look at her then. Under all the blackstem wards and snarls was a pretty round face, and a body that put even Leesha’s to shame—rippling with muscle while lacking nothing of a woman’s curve.

Is that what he wanted? she wondered. A woman who can strangle a demon with her bare hands?

If so, it wasn’t Renna’s fault. It wasn’t fair to blame her. “We don’t know that she’s any more crazy than he is, Rojer.”

Rojer laughed. “Hate to be the Messenger, Leesha, but Arlen is crazy as demonshit. I owe him my life and I won’t forget that, but the man is always turning left when sane folk go right.”

“That’s why he’s powerful,” Leesha said. “And the same could be said for you.”

Rojer shrugged. “Never met a sane Jongleur, either.” He drank again. “They say he’s promised her. Think he means it?”

“That isn’t any of our business, Rojer,” Leesha said.

“Demonshit,” Rojer said. “It’s the whole corespawned world’s business—yours most of all.”

“How is that?” Leesha demanded. “We were stuck together for all of five minutes, a year ago, and haven’t spoken of it since.”

“Quick shooter, eh?” Rojer asked. “You never hear that in the sagas.”

“We were … interrupted,” Leesha said, remembering the wood demon that had pulled them from their embrace. She had never hated a coreling as much as she had in that moment. “It still doesn’t make where he’s put it since any of my business.”

“Did you know they’re staying at Smitt’s?” Rojer asked. “Right down the corespawned hall. I’ll have to hear it every night. Smitt’s daughter Melly says they make the walls shake after they’ve been out hunting demons.”

Leesha’s teacup began to shake, she gripped it so hard. Rojer pointed to it with the bow of his fiddle. “That right there? That’s why it’s your business.”

“Not far now,” Arlen said. They had gone perhaps a mile from the edge of the greatward of Cutter’s Hollow to reach the Herb Gatherer’s cottage. There was a warded road, but Arlen led them on a more direct path through the trees. At one point, Renna noticed a familiar spot.

“Awfully close to that old hideout of yours.”

“Leesha needed mindin’,” Arlen said. “Smart girl, but it gets her in trouble sometimes.”

The memory of Leesha Paper in the count’s throne room flashed into Renna’s mind as it had been doing for hours. The woman had been bad enough imagined—brave and smart and rich, practically worshipped by the Hollowers—but of course Arlen had never mentioned she was also pretty as a sunrise, with that soft, helpless look men loved. “You stayed close so the Warded Man could swoop in and save her like the hero in an ale story?”

Arlen stopped walking and sighed. Then he turned and met her eyes. “Make you a deal, Ren. You tell me every last detail of how you shined on Cobie Fisher, and I’ll tell you every bit of how I shined on Leesha Paper.”

Renna felt her anger rise, and saw the ambient magic rush to her, feeding on the emotion and amplifying it. Strong emotions were visible in the aura of magic that surrounded people at night. Her rage was a crackling glow that must have been unmistakable to Arlen, but he only looked at her calmly. He didn’t back down, but neither did he offer further offense, forcing her to simmer.

He was right. She had done things—felt things—with Cobie Fisher that had nothing to do with Arlen, and he didn’t need to know. Wasn’t his business.

But how then could she not grant him the same? He’d left Leesha behind in the Hollow for months to be with Renna, and given her his word in promise. What did it matter what he had felt, or what they’d done?

But it did. “Cobie Fisher’s dead,” she said. “Leesha Paper’s inviting us to tea.”

Arlen sighed. “What do you want me to do about that, Ren?”

She breathed deeply, in the rhythm Arlen had taught her, embracing the anger as she did pain. Awash in the feeling, she stepped back suddenly and let it go. Her magic cooled.

“Wern’t fair of me,” she said at last. “This ent easy.”

Arlen laughed. “Honest word. Ent no treat for me, either, Ren. Just … don’t hit anybody doesn’t hit you first, all right?”

Renna chuckled. “Ay, I can give you that. No promises about anything else.”

“Good enough,” Arlen said as they joined another road, this one made up of large squares of fresh-poured crete. Powerful wards had been inscribed in the stone, forbidding access to any corespawn. They glowed softly, drawing the ambient magic venting from the Core.

The wards became more intricate as they drew closer to their destination. The road ended at the entrance to a massive garden, larger than Harl’s entire field, but it wasn’t made up of any edible crops Renna knew. Weeds and herbs only. A Gatherer’s garden.

A dirt path led through the garden, with plants growing in patches throughout the area as it curved this way and that. Painted wardstones circled each patch, warming some plants and cooling others, drawing moisture from the air to nourish roots.

“Fancy,” Renna grunted, knowing it was far more than that. There were wardnets too complex for her to understand. Even as she watched the magic ebb and flow, she could only guess at their effects. She hadn’t even been formally introduced to Leesha Paper, yet already Renna didn’t like her. She was like a sorceress from a Jongleur’s tale.

They came out of the garden into a wide yard with a small cottage at its center. A plain and unassuming place amid all the splendor and beauty. For some reason, this made Renna dislike Leesha Paper all the more.

She shivered though the night was warm, drawing her cloak closer, hating that it had been a gift from her.

There was a dizzying blur as a woman stepped out of the shadows, drawing back her own Cloak of Unsight. She held a nocked bow pointed down, and looked different in wardsight, awash with glowing magic, but Renna recognized her. Wonda Cutter, another of Arlen’s apprentices, looking impressive in her new wooden armor.

The young woman loomed over them, taller than any woman had a right to be and twice as wide. She smiled, and the magic around her turned warm and inviting as she bowed deeply. “Deliverer.”

“Told you more’n once I ent the Deliverer, Wonda,” Arlen said, but the scorn that usually came to his tone at the subject was absent. He liked this young woman. “Call me Arlen.”

Wonda shook her head, eyes down. “Don’t think I can do that, sir.”

“Mr. Bales?” Arlen suggested.

Wonda brightened. “Ay, reckon that would be all right.” She turned to Renna, bowing again. “Welcome to the cottage, Miss Tanner. Honored to meet you. Saw what you did to Enkido in the throne room, and I seen him fight before. Hope to be half as good as you one day.”

There’s a price, Renna thought, but she nodded, looking to Arlen. “Had a good teacher.”

Wonda smiled, looking at Arlen with near worship in her eyes. “Ay.” She glanced back at the cottage. “Mistress Leesha’s in there with Rojer. You don’t mind waitin’ a moment, I’ll announce you.”

“Like her,” Renna said as the young woman moved off.

Arlen nodded. “I had a hundred Wonda Cutters at my back, I’d storm the Core itself.”

Wonda appeared at the door an hour after dark. “They’re here, Mistress Leesha.”

“Thank you, Wonda,” Leesha said. “Be a dear and send them in, then walk the yard and make sure we’re left be.”

Wonda nodded. “Ay, mistress.” A moment later Arlen appeared, looking more relaxed than she had ever seen him. Renna Tanner came next, her eyes roaming with predatory suspicion. She caught Leesha’s eyes, and Leesha realized she was staring impolitely.

Elona’s voice rang in her head. Say something, idiot girl.

Leesha shook herself and went over to her. “Welcome to my cottage. Renna, I believe?” Her eyes flicked to Arlen. “We were never formally introduced. I’m Leesha Paper.” She reached to take the young woman’s cloak, only to gasp at the sight. It was the Cloak of Unsight she had made for Arlen.

He gave it to her? There was a flare of anger as she remembered how hard she had worked on that cloak, putting in more effort than on her own and Rojer’s combined. She had wanted so badly to impress him, to show the power of her warding, but Arlen had barely glanced at it as she put it on his shoulders, and hadn’t worn it since.

Was that your promise gift? she wondered bitterly. Suddenly their relationship seemed like it very much was her business.

“Know who you are,” Renna said.

Something about the look she gave made Leesha want to grab Bruna’s stick and thump her, but she kept her smile pleasant. “Tea?”

“Please,” Arlen said, putting an arm around Renna and steering the women apart.

Rojer rolled from his chair into a handspring, somersaulting into a low leg. “Rojer Halfgrip, at your service.”

Renna laughed and clapped her hands, suddenly looking like an innocent girl. “Renna Tanner,” she said as he kissed her hand. “Arlen told me all about you.”

“Don’t believe a word of it,” Rojer advised with a wink. Renna smiled at him, and Leesha wanted to scream, but she kept a sunny smile on her face.

“Come help with the tea, Rojer,” she said. He complied, and as they stood at the counter amid a clatter of cups and saucers, she whispered, “Night, whose side are you on?”

“Oh, there are sides now?” Rojer asked sweetly. “I thought it was none of our business.” Leesha kicked at him, but he danced away, not spilling a drop of the tea he carried to Renna and Arlen in the sitting room. Leesha brought their cups from the kitchen table and saw Arlen and Renna together on her couch and Rojer on the closest seat. She wondered if the men were purposely trying to keep her and Renna as far as possible from each other.

“Soooo,” Rojer said with an exaggerated stretch. “Ah. How have you been?”

“Busy,” Arlen said. “Hollow’s expanding faster every day, swallowing hamlets whole even as folk flock here from all the Free Cities. Work’s started on the pattern of greatwards we plotted over the winter, and already some of them are activating.”

Arlen’s eyes twinkled at her. “It’s working, Leesha. Greatwards keep growing, someday fighting demons will be irrelevant. Nothing to fight, they’re all trapped in the Core. This rate, ‘Count’ Thamos will be calling himself duke before long, and Rhinebeck won’t be able to say much about it.”

“But you will,” Rojer said.

“Ent my business,” Arlen said. “Don’t care who sits what throne, so long as the greatwards are built and folk prepared for what’s comin’.”

“And what is that?” Leesha asked.

“War,” Arlen said. “The demons will move to stop us, now, before the greatward system can reach critical mass.”

“Demonshit.” Rojer glanced to Leesha, then back to Arlen. “Sick of hearing you two say things ent your business even when you’re standing right in the thick of them. Those people are flocking here from the Free Cities, building greatwards and arming themselves, because of you, Arlen Bales, the ripping Warded Man, not Count Thamos.”

Arlen shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe they’re just tired of hiding and want to fight for the chance to be free. I’m a banner to flock to, ay, but that don’t give me a claim to the throne even if I wanted it—and I don’t. Why should I oppose Thamos? Bit taken with himself, but he’s doing what a good Royal should do—building roads and towns, helping folk ward their homes and plant crops, appointing magistrates and ministers to keep peace, collect trash, lend money, and keep everyone fed and working to common good. His taxes are steep but fair, he’s open to new citizens so long as they swear to Angiers, and he doesn’t have enough men to really bully anyone.”

“I heard he had a thousand Wooden Soldiers,” Rojer said.

Arlen shook his head. “A thousand who can put on a wooden helm and march holding a spear, ay, but he’s got barely two hundred Wooden Soldiers. The rest can put an arrow near a target more oft than not, but they’re mostly Warders, engineers, and construction crew.”

“And now Gared and the Cutters, thanks to you,” Leesha said.

Again Arlen shrugged. “The count can make better use of them in the day. In return, I get them at night, along with the Wooden Soldiers. Thamos himself even comes out at night, and puts his spear where I tell him.”

“For now,” Leesha said.

“Thamos knows I can kick his keep gate down anytime I like,” Arlen said. “So long as I’m around, he’ll keep in line.”

“And when you’re not around?” Leesha asked.

Arlen smiled. “You’ll have to keep him in line yourself, and not pull a vanishing act like you did at court.”

Leesha fumed silently at his smirk. Her “disappearing act” had been a pretense to meet with Duchess Araine, who was the real power in Angiers—her sons little more than puppets. Arlen’s own meeting with the duke and his brothers had been a sham. But of course, she could say nothing of the sort without breaking Araine’s trust.

I have to let him think me a fool instead. The thought angered her. “What word from Duke Euchor?” she asked to change the subject.

“Rhinebeck will never pay the price Euchor demands for aid,” Arlen said. “Not unless the Krasians are massed right outside his walls, and maybe not even then. There will be no alliance.”

The finality of the statement fell on the room like a weight. It meant Angiers would have to face Ahmann alone, which meant in turn that there would be no aid to Lakton before the Krasians turned their eye that way. How long did the Laktonians have now? A year? Three at the most?

“What did he want?” Rojer asked.

“Rhinebeck still has no son,” Arlen said. “Euchor wants him to divorce Duchess Melny and marry one of his own daughters, all of whom have borne sons of their own.”

“Hypatia, Aelia, and Lorain,” Rojer said. “Famous throughout the Free Cities for being indistinguishable from stone demons. He might as well have asked Rhinebeck to drop his pants and lie over the barrel.”

Arlen nodded. “If the Krasians take Angiers, the metal throne will block their path at Riverbridge.”

“Euchor is a fool,” Leesha said.

“More than you know,” Arlen said. “Euchor has the secrets of fire, Leesha, and schematics to turn them into horror like you never dreamed.” He produced an ancient, leather-bound book and tossed it to her. The cover read: Weapones of the Olde Wyrld.

“Rest up before you read it,” Arlen advised. “Be a week before you can sleep again.”

Leesha took the book, looking into Arlen’s eyes as she did. They seemed so calm, so at peace. The look of a man who had stopped worrying over tomorrow to focus fully on today. “You’ve changed so much. The plain clothes, going back to your proper name …” Your eyes, she wanted to say, but wisely held her tongue.

“Got back to my roots,” Arlen said, nodding toward Renna. “Ent gonna forget them again.”

“Get another kicking, you do,” Renna said, laying a hand on his leg.

Arlen put his hand atop hers, squeezing gently. Such a tiny gesture, but it spoke volumes. Leesha suppressed a shiver as Arlen looked back at her. “Know what I am now, Leesh. Who I am. No more doubts and worries.”

“How?” Leesha asked.

Arlen’s tone grew serious. “Last new moon, a demon tried to kill me.”

Rojer chuckled. “How’s that different from any other night?”

“This wasn’t just some worker drone, Rojer,” Arlen said, his voice taking on a hint of the Warded Man’s rasp. The smile fled Rojer’s face.

“A smart demon,” Leesha said. “Darsy told me. Gets in your head.”

Arlen tapped his temple. “And I got in its. Not for long, but enough to know what we’re up against, and to see magic the way they do. And now that I seen, I can’t unsee.”

He lifted his hand, drawing tiny wards in the air. One by one, the lamps in the room winked out. Leesha reached into her apron for her warded spectacles, but before she could put them on, he traced a light ward in the air above them and it flared, filling the room with more light than when the morning sun struck the windows full-on.

“Creator,” Rojer whispered.

“That’s just the tip.” Arlen got to his feet, drawing a knife from his belt. “Almost impossible to hurt me now, and if something does …” He slashed at his hand, drawing a bright line of blood.

“Arlen!” Leesha cried, rushing to her feet to inspect the cut. It was down to the bone—she caught a flash of white before blood welled, gushing to the floor. Even with stitching, it might never heal the same. She glanced at Renna, but the girl seemed unconcerned.

“… I can heal it in an instant,” Arlen finished. His hand collapsed into smoke, falling through Leesha’s fingers, and then re-formed, perfectly whole and unblemished save for the intricate pattern of tattoos that danced along its surface. Even the blood on the floor was gone.

Leesha put her warded spectacles on to examine more closely. In wardsight, Arlen glowed brighter than she had ever seen, and—she noted with little surprise—Renna, too, shone with power.

“I can heal others as well,” Arlen said, “and kill demons without touching them. Every day I discover new powers. The potential is limitless.”

“Darsy told me about you emptying the hospit,” Leesha said, “but bright as you are, you’re still not carrying enough for that kind of magic. Where did you get the power? Hora? Ichor?”

Arlen shook his head. “Crutches. You were right about why the greatwards make me weak, Leesha. They pull at my magic, sucking it out to strengthen their field.” He smiled. “But now I can reverse the pull.”

He took a deep breath, and Leesha gasped as the ambient magic drifting along the floor rushed to him. The wards painted and carved all around the cottage, previously glowing with power, dimmed as Arlen grew so bright it became difficult to look at him.

“You learned all this from the mind demon?” Leesha asked.

Arlen nodded. “But don’t underestimate them just because I got lucky and killed one. I’m just scratching the surface of powers that are as natural to them as breathing. There’ll be more of them, and they won’t underestimate me again.”

“It was manlike, but shorter?” Leesha asked. “With a bulbous head and vestigial horns?”

Arlen’s eyes narrowed. “Never told anyone that.” He glanced to Renna.

“Don’t you look at me like that, Arlen Bales,” she said. “Ent breathed a word ’bout what happened.”

“One of them attacked us in Everam’s Bounty,” Leesha said.

Arlen glanced at Rojer. “Not that us,” the Jongleur said. “I was in the bath. Missed the whole thing.”

Arlen seemed taken aback. “What happened?”

Leesha bit back a wave of revulsion at the memory. “It came at Waning, same as yours. It … took control of me.”

Renna looked at her, empathy in her eyes for the first time. “Forced you to do things?”

Leesha nodded. “It was there to kill Ahmann or, better, to discredit him. Used me and his wife Inevera against him like puppets.”

“How’d you break the spell?” Arlen asked.

“Ahmann touched us, and the wards on his crown flared,” Leesha said. “The demon’s control was broken instantly. Ahmann killed it, though it might have had him if we hadn’t distracted it first.”

Arlen nodded, glancing to Renna. “Man ent nothin’ without a good woman beside him.” Renna smiled at him, and Leesha had to swallow the bile that threatened to rise in her throat.

“Was it alone?” Renna asked.

Leesha shook her head, and saw in the woman’s eyes that she already knew what was coming next. “It had a … bodyguard. A shape changer.”

“Mimic demon,” Arlen said. “They can turn into anything they can see or imagine. Under normal circumstances, they can’t imagine much, but with a mind demon controlling them …”

“Ahmann said it was one of Alagai Ka’s princelings,” Leesha said. “And that there would be more come the next Waning.”

Arlen nodded. “That bastard might be a coreson in need of putting down, but he ent wrong. New moon’s a week and a half away. Done my best to ready the Hollow, but things are going to get ugly enough to make the Battle of Cutter’s Hollow look like a game of Tackleball.”

Leesha nodded. “Here and in the Bounty as well. The mind demons are afraid of Ahmann, just like they are of you. You’d be giving them a real gift by killing him.” The words were meant to sting, to remind him of his oath to oppose the corelings in all things, as they once had in a cave they had taken shelter in on the road from Angiers.

She expected him to be shocked, or angry or sad, but Arlen only looked at her patiently. “Can’t manipulate me just because I told you a promise I made as a boy, Leesha. Made a lot of promises in my life, and I’ll be my own judge of when and how they’re kept.”

“What promise?” Renna asked.

“Talk about it later,” Arlen said, and there was a hint of tightness in his voice. Renna didn’t look pleased, but neither did she press the issue.

“Abban and Ahmann both spoke of the Par’chin as a friend,” Leesha said.

Arlen laughed, and if he was surprised she had heard his Krasian name before, he did not show it. “Abban has no friends, Leesha! Only profitable acquaintances, of which I most certainly was one. And Ahmann Jardir has two faces, one kind and just, and another—the real one—he shows more seldom. The one that will do anything for power.”

“What happened in the Maze?” Leesha asked bluntly. “What did he do to you? Enough riddles! If you want us to mistrust this man, then tell us why!”

For the first time, the calm left Arlen’s eyes. Rojer held out his flask, and Arlen traced a casual ward in the air, sending it flying into his hand like iron filings to a lodestone. He unscrewed the top and took a long pull, sitting hunched with his arms on his thighs, eyes down.

“Ahmann Jardir was my ajin’pal,” he began. “No doubt you’ve heard the word, but I don’t think anyone can understand what it means. He took me into my first true battle with the demons, stood at my side, shed blood with me …”

“Like you did for the Hollowers,” Rojer said.

“And for me,” Renna said.

Arlen nodded, “Ay, but it was different. The Krasians didn’t want me fighting. Didn’t think me worthy. Jardir stood for me when they would have strung me up. Welcomed me into his palace, learned my language. He was a brother to me, taught me things about the world and myself it would’ve taken a lifetime to learn on my own.”

“So you were truly friends,” Leesha said, though the words did not dispel the mounting dread she felt at Arlen’s tone.

“For my part,” Arlen agreed. “But looking back I think maybe he was always ready to plant a spear in my back when I ceased to be of use to him, always planning to come north, and pulling his plans from my head.”

He blew out a breath. “But maybe not. Maybe it was what came next.”

The room was silent, everyone leaning in to hear Arlen’s words, even Renna.

Guess he doesn’t tell her everything, after all, Leesha thought.

“Wasn’t just fighting alongside the Krasians in those days,” Arlen said. “Kept regular work as a Messenger, and spent years ruin hunting. Blew through more gold than most folk ever see buying up old maps that usually led nowhere, and almost got myself killed more times’n I can count. But then, a few years ago, Abban promised me a map to Anoch Sun.”

“The final resting place of Kaji,” Leesha said.

Arlen nodded. “Nearly died getting my hands on the map, copied right from under the dama’s noses. Spent weeks wandering the desert looking for the place. The Krasians said it was lost to the sands, but I got a stubborn streak.”

“Honest word,” Leesha agreed.

Arlen’s eyes glittered. “But I found it, Leesha! Anoch Sun, the ripping lost city of Kaji, and I found it! It was half buried, but even so, more beautiful than anyplace you ever saw. Its palaces dwarfed anything the dukes reside in, perfectly preserved beneath the sand. In the greatest of these, I found a stair into the catacombs, and searched.”

Rojer was leaning forward eagerly now. “What did you find?”

“Kaji,” Arlen said. “Or one of his descendants. He was embalmed and wrapped in cloth, arms still gripping his spear.”

“The Spear of Kaji,” Leesha said, a cold feeling growing in her gut. Ahmann’s spear.

Arlen nodded. “I brought it to Krasia to share its secrets. They all thought me a liar until it first flared to life, killing a demon in the Maze. An hour later, I was leading the charge, all the Sharum chanting my name. Two hours after that, Jardir and his men laid a trap to steal it from me, Kaval and Coliv among them. They beat me and took the spear, throwing me into a pit with a live sand demon.”

“Creator,” Renna said, her eyes wide. Her lip curled into a snarl, and she gripped the bone handle of the huge knife sheathed at her waist.

“How did you escape?” Rojer asked.

“Killed the demon and climbed out of the pit,” Arlen said. “So Jardir cracked me on the head and they dumped me out on the dunes to die.”

Renna growled. “I’ll gut those sons of the …”

Arlen laid a hand over hers, and she calmed. “Kaval and Coliv were just following orders. Ent their fault. They’re just drones. Jardir’s the mind.”

“He must have seen your looting the sacred city and the tomb of Kaji as a terrible violation,” Leesha said.

Arlen shrugged. “Should I have left the lost magics to sleep under the sand?”

“Of course not, but you must understand their perspective,” Leesha said.

Arlen looked at her, incredulous. “What I understand is that Jardir stole the greatest weapon in the world from me, and instead of sharing its secrets, he is using it to murder and enslave his way across Thesa. What I cannot understand is why you continue to defend that son of a camel’s piss …”

His eyes widened. “You stuck him.”

“That is none of your business!” Leesha had not meant to shout, but anger had been building in her all night, along with a constant brewing nausea and a searing in her head that could brand a cow. She knew the outburst confirmed his words, but that only made her angrier. “And you should talk!” She whisked a hand at Renna.

Renna said nothing, but she rose from her seat, striding around the tea table to advance on Leesha. Their eyes met, and Leesha knew how Rojer must have felt when Kaval came at him. She fumbled at her apron for something to defend herself with, but Renna caught her wrist and snatched it away.

“Got something you want to say to me, I’m right here,” she growled.

“Ahhh!” Leesha gasped as the young woman twisted.

Arlen was there in an instant, grabbing Renna’s own wrist. “That’s enough, Ren!” He pulled at her, but for a moment, she resisted him. Arlen, who was strong as a rock demon, and she resisted him. He looked as surprised as Leesha, and for a moment she wondered if Renna might kill her. The wild young woman leaned in, their noses nearly touching, and Leesha shrank back, worried she might wet herself and lose what little dignity remained to her.

But Renna just spoke, her words low and even. “He said the words of promise to me, Leesha Paper. Did he say them to you?”

Leesha gaped. The words were almost identical to those Gared Cutter had said to Messenger Marick, right before they came to blows over Leesha. “N-no,” she stuttered at last.

“Then you mind your own business about us.” Renna let go Leesha’s wrist and stepped back. Arlen let go her arm, and she turned on her heel, storming out of the cottage.

Leesha rubbed her sore wrist and cast Arlen a withering glance. “Lovely woman you’ve found.”

Arlen glared at her, and immediately she regretted the words. She reached out to him, but her hand passed right through as he dissipated into smoke and vanished.

For a moment, she and Rojer just stared at the spot where he’d been. Finally, Rojer shook his head and turned to Leesha with a grin. “Could’ve been worse.”

Leesha glared at him. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to your wives?”

Rojer shook his head, coming over and putting his arms around her. “They can wait a bit.”

Leesha tried to pull away, but he held her tight, and after a moment, she stopped resisting. Still he held her, and she slowly raised her arms to return the embrace.

And then she wept.

Renna strode past the Cutter girl with nary a glance, picking up speed as she entered the garden maze. Wanting to put as much distance as possible between her and that witch’s cottage, she broke into a trot, and then a full run. But no matter how fast she went, the pain and anger followed her, and she found them impossible to embrace.

She pulled free her knife. She would hunt, killing a coreling and feasting on its magic-infused flesh. The power would ease her pain—lost in the rush, she would feel nothing but ecstasy.

She remembered the feeling of Arlen grabbing her wrist. He had pulled hard, and she had resisted him. He could still have forced her arm away if he had mustered his full strength, but even that was coming closer to her grasp. Soon, she would be as strong as he was.

A mist rose on the path in front of her. For a moment Renna tensed, thinking it was a coreling to kill. But the sun had long since set, and she had never seen a demon rise at any other time. It was Arlen.

One of his new tricks. He had not lied when he said there were more each day, and his comfort in using them, at least in front of Renna, was growing. He called this one “skating”—slipping just beneath the surface and riding currents of magic, traveling from one place to another in an instant.

Renna had attempted it, but thus far dematerializing was beyond her. Whether she had not eaten enough coreflesh, or if it had not yet had enough time to change her was unclear. It might be months. Or years.

But I’ll get there, she promised herself. Sure as the sun rises.

Arlen solidified, catching Renna as she ran into him. “What in the Core was all that about? Promised to hold your temper.”

Renna shook her head. “Promised not to hit anyone. Din’t.”

Arlen sighed. “Fair and true if you’re playing to the letter, but you’re a grown woman, Ren. Can’t just bully everyone.”

“Witch needed a bit of bullying, and a reminder that you ent hers,” she glared at Arlen, “and she ent yours, even if you two used to slap stomachs and never saw fit to mention.”

She began moving again, picking a direction at random and striding so Arlen had to hurry to keep pace. “Never asked who you’ve had in the hayloft, Ren. We agreed past was past.”

Renna waved a hand at him. “Can’t blame you. Know I come with my trials, and Miss Prissy Perfect’s got everything a man could want. Money, magic, and loved by all. And oh, look at that! She helped kill a mind demon, too! I was you, I’d set me aside, too.”

Arlen grabbed her, turning her roughly to face him. “Ent setting you aside, Ren. Not now, not ever. Ay, Leesha’s got her sunny bits, but she’s got her own mess of crazy, too, and whatever she might have done, you stared her down cold.” He laughed. “Never seen her intimidated like that. Thought she was going to wet herself.”

Renna smirked. “Was hoping she would.”

“Heard it from her own lips,” Arlen said. “Ent promised to her, Renna Tanner. Promised to you.”

Renna looked at him, wanting to believe the words, but it all seemed like demonshit. They’d danced this dance before. Arlen would talk up a storm, telling her she was the center of his world and how he could never want another. He’d go on about how she was his sunrise and sunset.

She knew if she listened long enough, she’d be convinced by his arguments—or get so sick of hearing them she’d agree just to end the barrage.

But in the end, it was all just words.

“Renna Bales,” she said.

“What?” Arlen asked.

“Not Tanner,” Renna said. “If you’re speakin’ honest word, you’ll get a Tender and keep your promise. Tonight. Elsewise it’s just spit and wind.”