The Daylight War

by Peter V. Brett

  They stood in stark contrast with Arlen, barefoot in his faded denim trousers and shirt, and Renna, who was clad scandalously by anyone’s standards, wearing only a high, leather vest and a calf-length skirt slit to the waist on either side. But if their plain clothes – or lack thereof in Renna’s case – gave offence, the men showed no sign.

  ‘Welcome to the House of the Creator, Mr Bales, Miss Tanner!’ Hayes said loudly, his voice carrying far. ‘We’re honoured you could join us on such short notice.’

  Renna listened for a hint of sarcasm in the old man’s tone, but he seemed sincere. ‘Kind of you to have us.’ She drew a holy ward in the air. Arlen simply grunted and gave a nod.

  Hayes’ smile shrank slightly. ‘I must congratulate you on your promising. As you can imagine, it has caused quite a stir among the townsfolk. I would be honoured to perform the ceremony, if you wish.’

  ‘That’s awful kind,’ Arlen said before Renna could respond, his voice carrying as easily as the Tender’s, ‘but I mean Tender Jona to do it on his return.’

  There was another buzz that passed through the bystanders, now a crowd without doubt. Hayes pursed his lips, his mouth becoming a thin line that vanished in his thick beard and moustaches. ‘Close to him, were you?’

  Arlen shrugged. ‘Din’t always agree with him, but Tender Jona done right by the Hollow when the need was great. It’s my hope he’ll return soon.’

  The smile left Hayes’ eyes, and Franq cleared his throat. ‘Perhaps we should adjourn inside, Holiness. The others are already here. They await you in the dining hall.’

  ‘Very well, lead the way,’ Hayes said. Franq bowed and led them inside, closing the great doors firmly behind them and leaving the prying eyes and ears behind.

  From the small narthex beneath the choir loft, Renna could see a nave meant to hold perhaps three hundred souls. The floors were plain stone, worn smooth by the passage of countless feet over the years. The pews were similarly worn, fine wood with concave depressions where the lacquer had been rubbed away by generations of posteriors. The support beams were carved with wards, as were the stained windows, but they were otherwise unadorned. The main altar was similarly plain, though fresh cloth had been thrown over the table and podium, emblazoned with the ivy and crooked staff of the Angierian Tenders. Thick carpeting had been put down beneath.

  ‘You’ll have to excuse the meanness of the accommodations,’ Franq said. ‘Once the expansion is complete, we’ll have a worthy House of the Creator, with proper appointments more fitting for His Holiness to receive in.’

  Renna’s sharp ears picked up the sound of Arlen’s teeth grinding, but he said nothing as Franq led them to a door to the side of the altar that opened to a narrow hall they followed to a small windowless dining chamber. The dining room was much more richly appointed than the rest of the building. The cold stone walls had been covered in heavy woven tapestries, and a heavy table of polished goldwood ran the length of the room, covered in velvet cloth. The table was laid with delicate porcelain plates, silver utensils, and a golden candelabra. A warm fire blazed in the hearth, and more candles burned overhead on a simple wooden chandelier.

  Three men had been sitting at the table, but they rose quickly when the Tender entered.

  ‘You recall Lord Arther, the count’s aide,’ Hayes said, indicating the man. ‘Next to him is Squire Gamon, captain of the count’s guard.’

  Arther was clad in fine leggings and polished boots, wearing a white shirt cuffed with lace and a tabard bearing the count’s insignia, the wooden soldier. Over the back of his chair was slung a harness containing a short polished spear. The weapon was warded, with an elaborate crossguard encrusted with precious stones. It was beautiful and well maintained, but Arther did not have the look of a fighting man to Renna, and she wondered if it had ever tasted coreling ichor.

  Her mouth watered at the thought, and she had to suppress a wave of revulsion. What was she becoming, that such things should stir her appetite?

  Gamon was clad in similarly fine clothes, though his cuffs lacked the lace, and he had the hardness of a warrior about him, with a close-cropped beard that did not grow over the puckered lines of a demon scar. His eyes were fixed on Arlen, sizing him up as if before a brawl, and his spear had a worn look about it. It rested against the wall in easy reach.

  ‘Honoured,’ Arther said as he and the captain bowed. ‘The count sends his regrets, but he was delayed overseeing the construction of his keep.’

  ‘Din’t want to be seen dining with us, he means,’ Arlen murmured.

  ‘And this is the duke’s Herald, Lord Jasin Goldentone, nephew to Lord Janson, first minister of Angiers,’ Hayes said, indicating the third man. ‘Jasin will be heading back to Angiers on the morrow, but we were fortunate that your arrival allowed him to meet you before heading on his way.’

  ‘He’d have waited as long as it took to see us,’ Arlen said, again too low for any but Renna to hear.

  The herald wore a fine fitted jacket and loose silken trousers of emerald green, tucked into high brown boots of kid leather. His half cape was brown, emblazoned with the ivy throne of Angiers. He swept it out with a flourish as he bowed to Renna, and the inside flashed with the bright motley colour she expected from a Jongleur.

  ‘I have never been so far as Tibbet’s Brook,’ he said, kissing her hand, ‘but perhaps I should rectify that, if the women there are as beautiful as you.’

  Renna felt her face colour. ‘That’s enough of that,’ Arlen snapped.

  ‘Indeed,’ Hayes agreed, looking reproachfully at Jasin. ‘Please, be seated.’ He indicated settings for Arlen and Renna. Arther swept smoothly behind her and for a moment she nearly struck him until she realized he was simply pulling out the chair to slide it under her as she sat. The chair was padded with velvet. She had never sat on something so soft.

  Franq clapped his hands, and acolytes appeared with wine bottles. The men – Arlen included – took their napkins off the table with a snap, placing them in their laps. Renna awkwardly did the same.

  ‘We have a wonderful menu tonight,’ Franq said. ‘Roast pheasant stuffed with apricot grain in a wine sauce and suckling pig slow-roasted over applewood with plum jelly.’ He turned to Renna. ‘Do you prefer red or white?’

  ‘Say again?’ Renna said.

  Franq smiled. ‘Wine, child. What kind would you like?’

  ‘There’s more than one kind?’ Renna asked, and she felt her face colour as Jasin, Arther, and Franq laughed. ‘What’d I say?’ she murmured to Arlen under her breath.

  Arlen looked ready to spit fire. ‘Nothing,’ he said, making no effort to keep his voice low. ‘They’re being rude, looking down over their fancy food and drink while folk a mile from here are eating weeds and thanking the Creator they have that much.’

  Franq paled, glancing at the Tender before looking back at Arlen. ‘I meant no offence—’

  Arlen ignored him, looking at Tender Hayes. ‘That what you teach your Children, Holiness? That it’s fair to mock regular folk? ’Cause where we come from, Tenders wear plain robes for a reason.’

  Hayes’ jaw tightened. ‘It most certainly is not.’

  ‘Not how I see it,’ Arlen said. He looked back at Franq. ‘What was it you said about this Holy House? That it was mean? That it was not worthy?’

  Franq had the look of a cornered deer. ‘I only meant that something more grand—’

  ‘You don’t know the meaning of the word,’ Arlen cut him off. ‘This Holy House is a symbol of the Hollowers’ strength. When all else was lost, this building stood strong. We put the wounded here, some in this very room, while their kith and kin stood outside and faced the night to protect them. Ent nothing mean about this place.’ He looked to Hayes. ‘But you’d tear it down and build something bigger, so people forget who they were before you came along, and forget the Tender whose House it was.’

  Hayes’ face hardened at that. ‘Again with Jona! You’ve taken off your brown robe but still speak
as a Holy Shepherd, telling us how our order is to be run. The count already promised that Jona’s wife would be allowed to see him, yet still you cause a scene outside in full view of the crowd, and again at my table.’

  ‘It was your scene outside,’ Arlen noted. He glanced at the others at the table. ‘Know you think us fools because we come from the hamlets, but I worked long years as a Messenger, and know politics when I see ’em. Stood in the graveyard and told all that I was neither Holy Man nor Heaven-sent, but that wasn’t enough for you. Had to push and make a show so folk think I’m in your flock,’ he glanced at Arther, Gamon, and Jasin, ‘while the Royals send their footmen through the back door to listen in and report back. Leave me out of your games. I hold to no Canon and swore no oath to the ivy throne.’

  Renna leaned back in her seat, watching in amusement. No one paid her the slightest mind. The other men looked outraged, but Hayes held up a hand to calm them.

  ‘Nevertheless,’ Hayes said, ‘the ivy throne is sovereign in Angiers, and all within its borders are subject to its laws. Duke Rhinebeck and Shepherd Pether have decreed that Cutter’s Hollow is a Canonic holding, Mr Bales. If you reside here, you are subject to both the count’s jurisdiction and my own.’

  ‘Evejan law,’ Arlen said.

  ‘Eh?’ the Tender asked.

  ‘Religion and law are one in Krasia, as well,’ Arlen said. ‘Their holy book, the Evejah, is the basis for their entire culture, and as the Krasians conquer the southland, they press Evejan law on its people, forcing them to cover up and pray to Everam whether they like it or not. They rape the women and enslave the men, taking away their children to be indoctrinated fully. Even if they cease their advance now, in a generation everyone in their territory will be Evejan, quadrupling their numbers.’

  ‘Then you see why we must resist them utterly,’ Hayes said, ‘and reject this false god with a renewal of faith in the true Creator.’

  ‘In resisting them, you are becoming them,’ Arlen said. ‘And I won’t stand for it here in the Hollow. Spout all you like from the pulpit. If you can sway folk, that’s their choice. But you try some archaic nonsense like staking a fornicator out for the demons, I’ll break the stake over my knee and shove half through your door and the other half through the count’s.’

  ‘You wouldn’t!’ Franq growled.

  ‘You see if he don’t,’ Renna said.

  ‘How dare you!’ Arther shouted. Captain Gamon leapt to his feet, grabbing his spear. ‘By the authority of Count Thamos, I place you under arrest for treason …’

  Arlen snorted, not even bothering to rise. He casually drew a ward in the air, and the blade of Gamon’s spear turned the grey-blue of a hazy sky. The air about the weapon began to shimmer, and both blade and shaft fogged and turned white as rime frost covered its length.

  There was a creaking sound, and Gamon cried out and dropped the weapon, clutching his hand as if burned. Jasin leapt out of his chair as the spear struck the stone floor between them, shattering into a thousand pieces.

  ‘Aaah, Creator, my hand!’ Gamon shrieked.

  ‘Quit acting the fool and sit back down,’ Arlen said. He looked to one of the serving boys, staring wide-eyed and slack-jawed. ‘Bring the squire a bowl of cool water to soak his hand in.’ The boy ran off without so much as a glance to Hayes or Franq.

  Hayes steepled his fingers. ‘So you think yourself above the law of both man and Creator? Is this your way of informing me that your speech this morning was a lie? That you really do believe you are the Deliverer?’

  Arlen shook his head. ‘My way of informing you that I’m not some bumpkin you can push around. Came back to the Hollow because I’ve got work to do, not to pick a fight with you or the count. So long as you’re doing right by folk – and it seems for the most part you are – want us to be friends. But you been taking liberties, and need to know where the wards end. Got no interest in being a pawn in your politicking, and I’ll have satisfaction the next time one of you is fool enough to mock my promised.’

  Hayes nodded. ‘I apologize for any insult to you and Miss Tanner. It was unintentional, and I assure you,’ he glanced at Franq, ‘my aide will be properly reprimanded.’

  The Tender spread his hands. ‘I want us to be friends, as well. Neither the count nor I wish to make an enemy of you, Mr Bales. Thamos’ brother the duke commanded he come south, secure the border, and protect its people. My own mandate from Shepherd Pether is much the same. I am to minister to these people as your own Jona would have in his absence – a matter I have little sway over.’

  ‘Is that your entire mandate?’ Arlen asked.

  Hayes shook his head. ‘There is one more matter. You.’

  ‘Me,’ Arlen said.

  ‘You are not the first would-be Deliverer in Angiers,’ Hayes said. ‘Tales of His return crop up every few years, especially in the hamlets. The Tenders of the Creator investigate every one for validity. I myself have investigated a dozen in my tenure – every one a fraud.’

  Arlen smiled. ‘Add one more to the list, because I ent Him.’

  Hayes leaned forward. ‘Perhaps, but neither are you a simple Messenger from the hamlets, no matter what you claim. You’re quick to say what you’re not, but you have yet to say what you are. You use demon magic; who is to say you are not corespawn yourself?’

  Silence fell on the room, and Renna bristled. The other men leaned in to hear every nuance of Arlen’s reply even as Hayes sat back. Jasin produced a small notebook and a tiny pencil. Tales were money to Jongleurs, and heralds most of all, though they had an audience of one.

  ‘Saw me stand in the sun just this morning,’ Arlen said. ‘Can corespawn do that?’

  Hayes shrugged. ‘There’s a first time for everything.’

  ‘And the thousands of demons I’ve killed, including what you witnessed last night?’ Arlen asked. ‘Those just a ruse to gain men’s trust?’

  ‘You tell me,’ Hayes said.

  ‘Doesn’t need to tell you anything,’ Renna snapped. All eyes turned suddenly to her.

  ‘Excuse me, young lady,’ Hayes said, his tone reproachful, ‘but—’

  ‘Arlen din’t want to come tonight,’ Renna cut him off. ‘Said this would happen. Said you’d try to use him, or accuse him. Said we’d be better off talking to a wall. I was the one told him to be neighbourly.’ She stood. ‘Regrettin’ that decision now, and don’t see any reason we need to stay for this kind of talk. Enjoy your pheasant.’

  She strode for the door, and Arlen shrugged apologetically at the Tender, a grin on his face as he moved to follow.

  The sun was setting outside, the streets of the Hollow bustling with activity. Squads of Cutters were forming in the Corelings’ Graveyard, preparing for their nightly patrols, and vendors continued their brisk business, selling food, drink, and other items with no apparent plans to pack up for the day. Even the workers digging the foundation to the new Holy House continued to work. Renna knew the greatward kept them all safe through the night, but it hadn’t truly dawned on her just what that meant. Freedom, night and day. In Hollow County, humans were not forced to live on the demons’ schedule.

  ‘Won’t it be too dark to keep working soon?’ Renna asked.

  Arlen shook his head. ‘Magic’s about to rise. There’ll be light enough for all before long.’

  Renna wondered at that, watching for the telltale signs of the rise, wisps of smoky light drifting up from the ground, visible only to her and Arlen’s warded eyes.

  But there was no sign of magic’s fog on the greatward. Instead, the entire street grew warm underfoot, and began to glow. She thought she was imagining it at first, but it soon grew too bright to ignore. So bright that it was apparent everyone could see the light, warded eyes or no. The casual air of the people on the streets towards the growing dark now made sense. It was not as clear as day, but more than bright enough to see and work by.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ Renna said. She could see the edge of the greatward not far off.
The magic there rose normally, but flowed towards the greatward in the same way it flowed towards Arlen when he called it. She could feel the ward tugging at her own personal magic, as well. That growing core of power that had been born when she first tasted demon meat was drawn like a lodestone towards an iron pot. Her footsteps felt heavy, and she felt weaker and slightly dizzy.

  ‘Used to feel … off on the greatward,’ Arlen said, as if reading her mind. ‘Like I was walking through water, or had been out in the sun too long.’

  ‘Used to?’ Renna asked.

  ‘Everything’s different now,’ Arlen said. ‘Greatward draws so much power, and tapping into it’s as easy as breathing.’ He drew a deep breath, and his wards flared to life, brighter than she had ever seen them. He blew it back out, and they died away again. ‘I can even let the excess back into the ward if I don’t need it, strengthening the forbidding.’ He looked at Renna. ‘Powerful here, Ren. More’n I ever dreamed. Don’t even need to kill for it. Can’t say it’ll be enough, but come new moon, whatever the Core sees fit to spew at us will be in for the fight of its life.’

  He turned to another great building, this one situated on the other side of the cobbles. It was the only warded structure Renna had seen in the Hollow, its symbols large and strong, etched deep into the wood.

  ‘Hospit,’ Arlen said. ‘Need to see Mistress Vika before she goes off to Angiers, and perhaps I can ease her burden before she goes. Time I’m done in there, she won’t have so much as a kid with a sniffle.’

  ‘Sure that’s a good idea?’ Renna asked. ‘Liable to start this Deliverer business right back up.’

  ‘That’s happening like or not,’ Arlen said. ‘I ent the Deliverer, but I’m done hiding what I can do. We stirred up a hornets’ nest, killing that mind demon, and unless I miss my guess, the stinging starts on new moon. Need everyone on their feet.’

  Renna scowled.

  ‘What?’ Arlen caught the look. Renna crossed her arms, turning away.

  A moment later she felt Arlen’s arms around her, squeezing gently. ‘Something’s botherin’ you, Ren, just say it. I learned a lot from that demon, but reading minds ent a trick I’m ready to try.’