The Core (The Demon Cycle, Book 5)

by Peter V. Brett

  ‘Well, whatever happened, he should recover, given time. He shouldn’t leave his bed for a few weeks, and it may be months before he can walk any distance.’

  The tolerant tone irritated Elissa. She hadn’t spent the last week fighting for her life to be spoken down to by a woman who had likely never seen a coreling outside a book. ‘That will not do.’

  The old woman looked as if she was losing patience, but Elissa did not give her time to respond, taking the silver stylus from her belt. ‘No doubt you’ve heard of the effect feedback magic has on men and women who fight demons.’

  Mistress Anet looked at the stylus sceptically. ‘I don’t know what notions you’ve brought back from the Hollow, my lady, but here in Miln we trust our healing to science, not warding tricks.’

  ‘Lieutenant Woron owes his life to your science,’ Elissa agreed. ‘But it’s time you widened your perspective.’

  Night had fallen while the Gatherer worked. Elissa had only to flip a switch to cut power to the lectric lights and bathe the room in darkness. The stylus left a trail of silver light as she drew a quick script in the air and energized it, setting a ring of wards floating overhead to bathe the room in clean white light.

  Anet crossed her arms. ‘It may surprise you to know that I have seen light wards before.’

  ‘Perhaps, but you’ve never seen this.’ Elissa glided to the bed, and the Gatherer’s apprentices backed away nervously, wanting no part in the growing confrontation with their mistress.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Anet followed as Elissa peeled away the bandage the apprentices had been wrapping.

  ‘Getting this man back on his feet,’ Elissa said.

  Anet grabbed her arm. She was white-haired, but her grip was strong. ‘I told you—’

  Elissa raised the stylus again, and Anet’s words cut off. She took a step back, eyes glaring. ‘I won’t be responsible if you make things worse.’

  ‘Just watch.’ Elissa turned to Woron, holding the stylus like a brush as she outlined the long row of stitches in small, silvery script, each ward feeding into the next. When the circuit was complete, she fed power into it. Gatherer and apprentice alike reflexively leaned in as the light flared.

  ‘What in the dark of night?’ Anet watched as the wound knit together. In moments there was no sign of injury – no bruising, no redness, no scar. Only a few flakes of blood and a line of stitches in smooth, pink flesh.

  The old woman gave an undignified shriek as Woron took a great shuddering breath and opened his eyes.

  20

  The Escort

  334 AR

  ‘Sign here.’ Mother Jenya pulled another paper from her seemingly endless pile and slid it in front of Ragen. Elissa sat a few feet from him at her own desk, working through a similar pile. The children were in their corner, quietly reading.

  ‘Back barely a day, and already buried in paperwork,’ Ragen groaned.

  Jenya laughed. ‘These are just the urgent ones. I’m waiting for you to settle before we wheel in the rest.’

  ‘Night.’ Ragen rubbed his face.

  ‘Serves you well, disappearing for nearly a year,’ Jenya said.

  Ragen flipped a page and saw a familiar signature. It was coming up too often for comfort. ‘Vincin.’ The man had been guildmaster before being ousted by Cob close to a decade ago. They hadn’t parted as friends.

  Jenya tensed at the name, and he knew this was a conversation she was dreading. ‘I was going to mention it after you’d had a chance to catch up.’

  Ragen laid down his pen. ‘Let’s have it, then.’

  ‘Vincin called for a special election while you were gone,’ Jenya said. ‘He is acting master of the Warders’ Guild.’

  ‘Son of the Core!’ Ragen barked. ‘Were you going to wait until we found out at court?’

  ‘Don’t blame the messenger, dear.’ Elissa did not look up from her papers.

  He took a breath. ‘I assume you checked the guild by-laws?’

  ‘Of course,’ Jenya said. ‘A master Warder of good standing is within his rights to call for a special election if the guildmaster is unable to perform his duties, in person or in writing, for more than six months, until such time as the guildmaster returns, should his term have not expired.’

  ‘So I am automatically reinstated now that I am back in the city?’ Ragen asked. He had nearly a year left in his latest two-year term.

  ‘Not precisely,’ Jenya said. ‘The guild must call a meeting wherein the absent guildmaster announces his fitness to return, ratified by a simple majority vote. Until then, Vincin remains in power.’

  ‘Call a meeting, then,’ Ragen said, though the problem was quickly becoming clear.

  ‘Only the guildmaster can call a meeting or vote.’

  Ragen balled a fist at Jenya’s words. ‘If I can’t call a meeting, then get word to every Warder in the city that I am returned, with news that will reshape the future of the guild.’

  ‘I’ll send runners immediately,’ Jenya said. ‘What news?’

  ‘The hora magic of the Hollow,’ Elissa said. ‘We’ve learned how to use demon bones to power wards, even when the corelings are not about. Sometimes even in daylight.’

  Jenya stared at her in silence, as if waiting for a punch line. When none was forthcoming, she cleared her throat. ‘That changes everything, if true.’

  ‘It’s truth,’ Ragen said, ‘but we don’t expect anyone to believe it without proof.’

  Even Jenya looked unconvinced, but she marked her writing slate. ‘I’ll see to it.’

  ‘Get in touch with the glasseries, as well,’ Ragen said. ‘We’re doing some renovations to our manse grounds.’ He produced a map, showing the greatward he and Elissa had spent so many hours designing, aligned to absorb their manse and the Servants’ quarters. Many of the other structures would have to be rearranged, but it could not be helped.

  Jenya looked at the map, eyes widening. ‘You want to … to pave your grounds with charged glass?’

  ‘We’ll charge it ourselves with hora,’ Elissa said, ‘but yes.’

  ‘We’ll start with paint,’ Ragen said. ‘Immediately. That will let us ensure the proper shape before we begin the glasswork.’

  Jenya studied the symbol, and Ragen could see her making calculations in her head. ‘This will be colossally expensive.’

  ‘We have a colossal fortune,’ Ragen said. ‘I don’t want to debate this, Jenya. Make it happen. The corelings are growing in power, and it’s only a matter of time before they attack the city. We need to prepare, and we need to do it now.’

  Jenya paled as she took the design. ‘Yes, of course.’

  There were sounds of commotion from the yard. Ragen looked up, but little Arlen was already bounding to the window. ‘Mountain Spears!’ He jumped up and down, pointing.

  Ragen and Elissa exchanged a look. A summons to the duke was expected. Soldiers were not. They joined young Arlen at the window, and Ragen felt his stomach tighten at the sight of fifty Mountain Spears, flamework weapons held over their shoulders in precise formation, lined up on either side from the main gate to his front door, clearing a path for a royal carriage.

  ‘Keerin?’ Elissa wondered. Perhaps the duke had sent his herald to fetch them.

  ‘Not garish enough,’ Ragen said. ‘Jongleur carriages look like a rainbow vomited on them.’

  Ragen’s servants and the Cutters were massing, kept back by the alert soldiers. It didn’t look like things were moving toward a confrontation, but neither was the mood relaxed.

  ‘What in the Core is going on?’ Ragen wondered as a footman hopped from the carriage and put down a set of steps, opening the door and offering a gloved hand to the occupant.

  Mother Jone, Duke Euchor’s chamberlain, stepped out of the carriage. The old woman had a pinched face, a coreling’s temperament, and a reluctance to leave Euchor’s keep. If she was here, it didn’t bode well.

  ‘Jenya …’ Elissa’s eyes flicked to the children.


  Jenya responded immediately, guiding Marya and Arlen away from the window with a firm hand to the shoulders. ‘Come along. The chamberlain is here to talk business with your parents, and has no time for children underfoot. Up to your rooms.’

  Ragen took Elissa’s hand as they were ushered out. ‘It’s just a show of power. Euchor loves to stroke his own ego, but he wouldn’t dare threaten us …’

  ‘What cause could he have?’ As Elissa asked the question, another carriage pulled up behind the first, this one bearing the sigil of Morning County. Elissa squeezed Ragen’s hand so tightly it hurt.

  The woman that stepped down from the second carriage was Countess Tresha.

  Elissa’s mother.

  Elissa’s fists clenched tightly as she gathered her skirts to curtsy. Dealing with a small army of Mountain Spears seemed a gentle breeze compared with dealing with her mother.

  Unbidden, Duchess Araine’s words came to her. Step carefully, when you return home.

  ‘Elissa, dear.’ Countess Tresha spread her arms. ‘Come give your mother a hug.’

  Elissa reflexively held her breath, and not just against the cloud of perfume her mother always wore. When was the last time her mother had wanted her embrace? Not since she was a child. The act sent alarms ringing in her head.

  ‘Keep quiet and let me do the talking, dear,’ Tresha whispered. ‘I’m here to keep everyone on their best behaviour.’

  Perhaps her mother meant the words to be a comfort, but Elissa found them anything but.

  If Tresha was the second most powerful woman in Miln, Mother Jone was the first. The duke’s aunt was straight-backed and rail-thin at nearly seventy. Her dress was conservative, with long sleeves and a high collar, the material as stiff as its wearer. She looked, as always, like she had just eaten a lemon.

  She nodded grimly. ‘Ragen, Elissa. Welcome home.’

  Ragen put on a smile, always able to appear relaxed when he was anything but. ‘Indeed, you’ve brought quite the welcome. Will they be firing off a flamework salute to celebrate our return?’

  ‘They’re here as an escort only, Ragen,’ Jone said.

  ‘Has Miln become so unsafe in our absence that it requires fifty Mountain Spears with flamework weapons to escort us across town?’ Ragen asked.

  ‘Of course not,’ Jone said. ‘But you are heroes returned from war. Think of it as an honour guard.’

  ‘I would have been more honoured if given notice of the guard,’ Ragen said.

  Yon appeared at their backs. He must have circled in through the back entrance. ‘Everythin’ all right?’

  ‘Ah, this must be Captain Gray,’ Jone said. ‘A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Captain. His Grace formally requests your presence this morning, as well.’

  Yon’s eyes flicked to Ragen’s, then he turned back to Jone and crossed his arms. Jone was tall, nearly six feet, but the burly Cutter loomed over her nonetheless. ‘Ay, all right.’

  Jone seemed unimpressed by the massive man. ‘You’ll have to surrender your weapon to the palace guards before you are admitted to see His Grace.’ She indicated the great axe slung over his shoulder.

  ‘Like night I will,’ Yon said, and everyone tensed.

  ‘Duke Euchor does not allow armed soldiers from foreign duchies in his throne room.’ Jone’s smile was pinched like the rest of her face. ‘Surely even you can understand that.’

  Yon gave a whistle and the guards took the flamework weapons from their shoulders as Lary Cutter appeared. Yon unslung his axe and handed it to Lary. ‘Deliverer himself warded that. Ent turning it over to anyone ent from the Hollow.’ He gave Jone a smile just as condescending as the one she had given him. ‘Sure even you can understand that.’

  Jone cleared her throat. ‘Yes, well. Shall we be off?’

  They walked into the yard past the ominous line of Mountain Spears to the carriages, Elissa looking over their shoulders to the frightened faces of the household Servants. Everyone was on edge, looking for some sign from Ragen and Elissa to signal what they should do.

  Any show of distress could end in bloodshed, something Ragen clearly understood as well. He might have been strolling through the garden for all the concern he showed, but Elissa knew that inside, he was coiling like a spring.

  Tresha took Elissa’s arm. ‘You and Ragen will ride with me, dear.’ She glanced at Jone. ‘It’s been agreed.’

  Elissa tried not to flinch at the touch. ‘Mother, what’s—’

  Tresha squeezed, her bony fingers digging hard into Elissa’s biceps. ‘Captain Gray will need to ride in back. The carriage only seats four.’

  ‘Four?’ Elissa asked, as the driver clad in her mother’s livery opened the door. Inside sat Derek Gold, looking decidedly uncomfortable. There were dark circles under his eyes.

  ‘Ent a problem.’ Yon seemed relieved to be away from the unfolding drama as he climbed into the back bench.

  ‘We don’t have a lot of time,’ Tresha said when the door closed behind them. ‘You’re fortunate I caught wind of this and arrived in time to make sure Jone and her men minded their manners. They would have searched your manse if I hadn’t shown up.’

  ‘Searched for what?’ Ragen demanded. ‘What in the dark of night is going on?’

  ‘I tried to warn you,’ Derek said, ‘but Brayan’s men wouldn’t allow it. I’ve been under house arrest since I got home.’

  ‘They arrested you?’ Elissa was incredulous. ‘For what?’

  ‘Didn’t call it that,’ Derek said. ‘Just locked me in with Stasy and little Jef and put guards at the doors and windows. Could’ve used my stylus, but the count’s got his whole keep on lockdown, and all his men are armed with flamework weapons. Don’t think I could’ve made it out without someone getting hurt.’

  ‘Wise you didn’t,’ Tresha said. ‘You’re in enough trouble as it is.’

  ‘Trouble for what, Mother?’ Elissa was out of patience. ‘We’ve been back for less than a day. What in the Core could we possibly have done?’

  ‘Euchor knows you’ve been trading combat wards on the exchange,’ Derek said. ‘And now that he knows the Painted Man is Arlen Bales …’

  ‘He thinks we deliberately played him for a fool,’ Elissa finished.

  ‘Did you?’ Tresha demanded.

  Elissa eyed her cautiously. Where were her mother’s loyalties? There was no love lost between them, and her mother had never made a secret of her dislike of Ragen. Was she truly here to advocate on their behalf – if only to spare the family more shame – or was she simply a convenient way for Euchor to trick a confession from them?

  Ragen shrugged. ‘Not precisely. This was going to get out eventually.’ He looked to Derek. ‘What else do they know?’

  Tresha cut in before Derek could reply. ‘If you’re asking if Euchor knows about the warded arms and armour you’ve been making and selling across the city, he does.’

  ‘If he knows, he only found out recently,’ Elissa said. ‘I reviewed those orders this morning. Deliveries have gone to the Messengers’ Guild like clockwork, and all have been accepted.’

  ‘And why shouldn’t they have been? We’ve broken no laws.’ Ragen kept his eyes on Derek. ‘How did he find out?’

  Derek coloured, eyes dropping.

  Elissa crossed her arms. ‘Stasy.’ Mother Stasy was Derek’s wife, cousin to Count Brayan. Brayan was Euchor’s closest advisor and the head of the only family with a fortune greater than Ragen and Elissa’s. He was heavily invested in Euchor’s flamework weapons, and no doubt saw the warded weapons as competition. Brayan’s son was married to Euchor’s eldest daughter, Hypatia, and his grandson was widely considered likely to become the next duke.

  ‘Ent her fault,’ Derek said. ‘It’s mine. Wasn’t careful in my letters. Count had the Servants reading her mail, looking for information. She’s angry as a rock demon.’

  Ragen blew out a breath. ‘There’s nothing for it now, Derek.’ He gave a subtle tilt of his head toward Tresha. ‘I know what it
’s like to shame a royal family by tracking dusty Messenger boots on their fine carpets. Once we settle your inheritance, you can start your own household.’

  ‘Ay, I’d like that,’ Derek said, ‘but the count’s got Stasy and Jef locked up tight. Can’t leave without them.’

  ‘You won’t have to,’ Elissa said.

  ‘Ent a lot I can do about it,’ Derek said. ‘Ent a magistrate in the city going to side with me over Count ripping Brayan.’

  ‘It’s not just you, Derek,’ Ragen said. ‘Not ever again. Announce today in open court that you’re taking your family and moving to my manse. If Brayan doesn’t agree, the Warders’ Guild won’t take orders for him or his holdings until he does.’

  Derek gaped. ‘You would do that?’

  ‘Corespawned right.’ Elissa couldn’t help but throw a rebellious glance at her mother along with the words. ‘You’re family.’

  ‘That’s a hollow threat, when you’re no longer acting guildmaster,’ Tresha noted.

  Ragen gave her a cold smile. ‘We’ll see about that.’

  ‘So you knew Arlen Bales was the Painted Man?’ Tresha pressed, going back to the original subject. ‘You knew and deliberately withheld the information?’

  ‘He’s our son,’ Elissa said. ‘Every bit as much as if I birthed him myself.’

  Tresha sniffed. ‘You should have come to me with this.’

  Elissa barked a laugh. ‘Come to you? Mother, when have you ever taken my side in anything? Night, I don’t even know if you’re on our side now!’

  Tresha looked genuinely offended. ‘Whatever you may think, you spoiled little brat, I’ve always had your best interests at heart.’

  ‘Even when you cast me out of the family?’ Elissa could see Ragen and Derek shrinking away as she and Tresha scratched at each other, but there was no other choice. Elissa needed to know where her mother stood before the ride was over.

  ‘I told you that was all behind us, when you graduated from the Mothers’ School,’ Tresha said.

  Elissa snorted. ‘Only because you wanted another vote on the Mothers’ Council. My interests never entered into it.’