The meal seemed to drag forever, with endless prayers and formal pleasantries, often delivered through thinly veiled expressions of mistrust. Ahmann kept most of his attention on Leesha, to the obvious annoyance of the Krasians at the table. They were arguing again over how many Sharum would act as escort for their journey back to the Hollow.

'We agreed to ten,' Leesha said, 'and not a one more. Gared tells me there are closer to thirty in the caravan.'

'We agreed to ten dedicated dal'Sharum,' Jardir agreed. 'But you need men to drive the wagons with my gifts to the Hollow tribe, to hunt your food, care for the animals, prepare your meals, and wash your clothes. Those will not lift their spears unless the need is dire.'

'Are those not jobs traditionally done by your women?' Leesha asked. 'Let your ten warriors bring their wives and children.' She didn't say as hostages, but Rojer heard it all the same.

'Even so,' Jardir said, 'ten is insufficient to ensure your safety. My scouts tell me the roads to the Hollow have grown dangerous with chin bandits.'

'Not chin,' Leesha said.

'Eh?' Jardir asked.

Careful, Rojer thought.

'You taught me that chin means "outsider",' Leesha said. 'These are people living in the land they were born to, or driven from it by your army. You are the chin here.'

There were angry murmurs from the Krasians at that. Here in Everam's Bounty, Jardir's power was absolute, his slightest whim no different than law. In truth, his decrees could, and often did, supersede laws that had stood for thousands of years. No one, especially not a woman and an outlander at that dared speak so boldly to him in open court.

Jardir lifted a finger, and they fell silent. 'A trick of words that changes nothing of the danger. Twenty warriors. Ten kha'Sharum and ten dal, including Drillmaster Kaval to continue the lessons to your own warriors, and my Watcher, Coliv. All will bring their first wives and one child of their blood.'

'Half of them girls,' Leesha said, 'and not a one old enough for Hannu Pash. I don't want twenty boys pulled from sharaj a day before they are to lose the bido.'

Jardir smiled and flicked a finger over his shoulder. 'Abban, see to it.'

Abban touched his forehead to the floor. 'Of course, Deliverer.'

'Twenty-one,' Inevera cut in. 'A holy number. Amanvah is dama'ting and must have a dedicated eunuch guardian. I will send Enkido with her.'

'Agreed,' Jardir said.

'It is not-' Leesha began, but Jardir cut her off.

'My daughter must be protected, Leesha Paper. I think your honoured father,' he gestured to Erny, 'can agree that this is not a negotiable point?'

Leesha glanced his way, but Erny gave her a stern look. 'He's right, Leesha, and you know it.'

'Perhaps,' Leesha said. 'If she returns with us. There has been no agreement about that.'

Inevera smiled over the golden chalice she used to sip her water. 'Another thing, daughter of Erny, that is not yours to decide.'

All eyes turned to Rojer, and he felt his guts clench tight. He focused his thoughts on the medallion, heavy against his chest, and drew a deep breath. He reached into his multicoloured bag of marvels, producing his fiddle case.

'Great Shar'Dama Ka,' he said, 'I have been practising a tune your daughter and her handmaiden taught me, the Song of Waning. You said music in praise to Everam was welcome in your court. May I play it for you?'

There were curious looks from around the table at the evasion, but Jardir waved a hand and nodded. 'But of course, son of Jessum. We would be honoured.'

Rojer opened the case, removing the ancient fiddle the Painted Man had given him, a carefully preserved relic of the old world. The strings were new, but the lacquered wood was still strong, producing a rich resonance that surpassed any instrument Rojer had ever held. He paused carefully, then looked up as if a thought had just occurred to him. 'Would it be appropriate to ask Amanvah and Sikvah to add their voices to the song?'

'The Song of Waning is an honoured one,' Jardir said, and nodded to the young women. They moved silently over to him like birds to the falconer's wrist, coming to kneel on the pillows a step behind him.

As well I can't see them, Rojer thought. Can't afford distraction. Not here. Not now.

He took the fine horsehair bow in his crippled hand and closed his eyes, blocking out the taste of Krasian coffee from his mouth, the smell of food from his nostrils, the general din of the dining hall from his ears. He focused until there was nothing in the world but the feel of the instrument in his hands, and then he began to play.

He started slowly, a long improvisation around the opening notes of the tune. It was soft at first, but as he layered in more and more of the true melody, he let it grow louder until it filled Jardir's dais, spread out over the Damaji's level, and finally echoed through the entire hall. Rojer was dimly aware of the silence that fell over the crowd, but it was meaningless to him. Only the music mattered.

When the melody was complete, Rojer let the fiddle grow quiet again, and began assembling the notes anew. He gave no other signal, no nod or stroke of his bow as he might to his apprentices, but nevertheless Amanvah and Sikvah joined him instantly on the repeat, softly singing wordless notes to complement Rojer's previous improvisation as he built the complexity and volume back to its former height and beyond.

Oh, the lungs, he thought, feeling the air thrumming with the strength of their voices. He felt a stiffening in his crotch, but ignored it like every other distraction. A good performance could have that effect. Fortunately, Jongleurs wore loose trousers.

This time when the melody was built again in full, the women began to sing. The words were still beyond Rojer's very limited understanding of Krasian, but they were beautiful nonetheless mournful but with a tone of warning. Amanvah and Sikvah had explained their meaning, but the women's knowledge of Thesan, while fluent, was insufficient to translate the artistry and harmony that resonated between the music and the original Krasian lyrics.

It was a challenge Rojer was hungry for. There was power in the Song of Waning. Ancient power.

After each verse, there was a wordless chorus, a call to Heaven beseeching Everam for strength in the night. Amanvah's and Sikvah's voices blended into a union that made it nearly impossible to determine where one ended and the other began.

He played the first chorus exactly as the women had first shown him, but before the second verse ended, Rojer began to thread in a new variation, improvised around the original. It was a minor change, but a difficult one for a singer to follow. They did so effortlessly, changing their harmony to follow his playing. On the third chorus, he took them farther still, building the music into something that would stop a coreling in its tracks. Again they followed, as easily as if he led them down a garden path, arm in arm in arm.

The fourth verse spoke of Alagai Ka, the father of demons, who stalked the land when the moon was new. Rojer did not know if such a creature existed, but the demon prince that had tried to kill Leesha and Jardir on new moon a few nights past was terror enough. The music had a frightening tone, and when the next chorus was reached, Rojer turned the music into a piercing, discordant wail that would send even a rock demon fleeing beyond earshot.

And again, Amanvah and Sikvah, without practice, without prompting, followed.

Verse after verse, Rojer tested them, working his fiddle magic if that was what this was to its fullest, bathing the great dining hall in his power. They were with him every step of the way, even as he improvised a new closing to wend the music down into silence.

When the last resonance left the wood, Rojer lifted bow from string and opened his eyes. As if coming out of a deep slumber, reality was slow to focus. Everyone at the table, even Jardir and Inevera, sat in stunned silence, watching him. Rojer looked out farther, seeing the dozens of clerics at the table below similarly entranced, as well as the hundreds of Sharum on the floor proper.

Then, as if given a cue, the room burst into a roar of approval. The Sharum shouted and ululated, stomping their feet so hard the floor seemed to shake. The clerics were more controlled, but their applause was thunderous nonetheless. Gared slapped him on the back, nearly knocking the wind from him, and Leesha flashed him a smile that once would have stopped his heart in its tracks. Even Hasik clapped and stomped his feet, staring at his daughter with obvious pride.

Jardir and Inevera did not react, however, and soon all fell silent, eyes upon the Deliverer to see his response. The demon of the desert smiled slowly, and then, to the astonishment of all, bowed deeply to Rojer.

'Everam speaks to you, son of Jessum,' he said, and with that, the roars and clapping began anew.

Rojer bowed in return, as deep as the table before him would allow. 'I wish to marry your daughter and niece, Ahmann asu Hoshkamin am'Jardir am'Kaji.' Leesha let out a slight gasp, and Elona a satisfied huff.

Jardir nodded, gesturing with his right hand towards Inevera and his left towards Elona. 'Our women will arrange ...'

But Rojer shook his head. 'I wish to marry them here. Now. There is nothing for the women to negotiate. I have no need or want of groom gifts, nor have I money for dower.'

Jardir steepled his fingers as he regarded Rojer, his face an unreadable mask that would do a master Jongleur proud. He looked as apt to order Hasik to crush him like a bug as to accept the offer. Indeed, his bodyguard had dropped a hand to his spear.

But Rojer had his audience now, and there was no fear in him as he pressed on. 'But no gold or jewels could ever be worthy of Amanvah and Sikvah in any event. What are such things but baubles to Shar'Dama Ka? Instead, I will translate the Song of Waning into Thesan and play it for my people. If Sharak Ka is coming as you say, all should remember to fear the new moon.'

'You think I will sell you my daughter for a song?' Inevera said.

Rojer bowed her way. He knew he should fear her, but the rightness was on him, and he smiled instead. 'Apologies, Damajah, but that is not yours to decide.'

'Indeed,' Jardir said, before Inevera could retort. She gave no outward sign of agitation, but there was a cold calculation in her eyes that frightened more than an outburst.

Rojer turned back to him. 'You say Everam speaks to me. I cannot say if this is so or not, but if true, He is telling me there was real magic in your court just now. Magic older and deeper than warding. He is telling me that if I pursue that magic with your daughters, we may learn to kill alagai with song alone.'

'He tells me the same, son of Jessum,' Jardir said. 'I accept.'

Hasik gave a whoop of delight that would have sent a chill down Rojer's spine just a few minutes ago. There was more applause and stomping of feet from below, and congratulations from around the table.

'You sly son of the Core,' Gared said, grabbing Rojer's shoulder in a great paw and giving him a teeth-rattling shake. Even Inevera seemed pleased with the result, though Rojer knew his slight to her would not soon be forgotten. The only sour look was from Elona, no doubt mentally cataloguing all the wealth he had just turned his back on.

But Rojer had no love of wealth save as a means of survival, and he had gold enough for that already from the Painted Man. And even without, his fiddle had never failed in the past to bring him a full belly and a place to lie his head.

Jardir gestured to Amanvah, and she stepped forward, bowing. 'Rojer, son of Jessum, I offer you myself in marriage in accordance with the instructions of the Evejah, as set down by Kaji, Spear of Everam, who sits at the foot of Everam's table until he is reborn in the time of Sharak Ka. I pledge, with honesty and in sincerity, to be for you an obedient and faithful wife.'

Jardir turned to him. 'Repeat my words, son of Jessum: I, Rojer, son of Jessum, swear before Everam, Creator of all that is, and before the Shar'Dama Ka, to take you into my home, and to be a fair and tolerant husband.'

Rojer reached into his shirt, producing his medallion and clutching it in his fist. 'I, Rojer, son of Jessum, swear before the Creator of all that is, and before the spirits of my parents, to take you into my home, and to be a fair and tolerant husband.'

There were some murmurs of discontent at that. Rojer heard ancient Damaji Aleverak's voice among them, but Jardir gave no sign that he even noticed the shift, though Rojer was not fool enough to think that the case. 'Do you accept my daughter as your Jiwah Ka?'

'I do,' Rojer said.

The vows were repeated with Sikvah, and Amanvah reached for her, removing her black veil. 'Welcome, sister-wife, beloved Jiwah Sen,' she said, tying a veil of white silk in its place.

Hasik rose, spear and shield in hand. For a moment, Rojer was sure the giant dal'Sharum meant to kill him, but instead Hasik clattered his spear against his shield and gave out an ululating cry. Instantly, every warrior in attendance was doing the same, and the hall shook with their cacophony.

'You could have at least said something if that was your plan, Rojer,' Leesha said as Abban escorted them to the caravan.

'I hadn't decided anything until the song was done,' Rojer replied, 'but even if I had, what business is it of yours who I marry? Let us not pretend you would consult me if the positions were reversed.'

Leesha gripped her skirts tightly in her fists. 'Need I remind you that those young women tried to murder me?'

'Ay,' Rojer agreed. 'Yet you're the one that treated Amanvah when the antidote made her sick, and offered asylum to her and Sikvah both.'

'Don't fool yourself,' Leesha said. 'They're still Inevera's creatures.'

Rojer shrugged. 'Perhaps. For now.'

'You really think you can change them?' Leesha asked.

Rojer shrugged. 'Do you think you can change him?' They reached the caravan, and Rojer, who had been given an opulent carriage to ride in with his wives, quickly disappeared inside.

'Do not underestimate the son of Jessum,' Abban said to Leesha. 'He gained much power today.' He gestured to a woman who stood at the head of the caravan with a ledger. 'My First Wife, Shamavah. She will accompany you to the Hollow, and has personally chosen the kha'Sharum who will drive the carts with their wives and children. All of them, wives or husbands, are family, or work for me. They will give you no trouble.'

'It's not the kha'Sharum I'm worried over,' Leesha said.

Abban nodded. 'And you are wise in that. I have had no say over the dal'Sharum. They will report to Kaval, and though Ahmann has told the drillmaster that you are still his intended and to answer to you in all things, I expect it will be Amanvah they follow in practice.'

'Then we'd all best hope Rojer's confidence is justified,' Leesha said.

'I am saddened to see you leave, mistress,' Abban said. 'I will miss our conversations.'

Rojer fell into the wedding carriage with a contented sigh. It was of Rizonan make, fine wood and gilded paint with a metal suspension to take away the jolts and bumps of the road. A nobleman's carriage, and a rich one at that.

But the Krasians had made alterations, removing the seats and covering the floor with thick colourful carpets and embroidered silk pillows. The walls and ceiling were covered in dark velvet of red and purple, and scented herbs hung from the ceiling in bronze pots punched with holes. The windows were glass, but could be cracked to let in air, as they were now, but curtained in velvet for privacy. Bronze and glass oil lamps hung from the walls, lighting and extinguishing themselves with the twist of a key.

Rojer had been in brothels less suited to lovemaking.

They don't want me to waste any time, it seems. He couldn't deny that he was eager for it, as well. Sikvah had lain with him already, but refused to let him spend in her until they were wed, and Amanvah was still a virgin. He would have to be gentle with her.

He took a pencil and notebook from his bag of marvels, continuing his notes on the Song of Waning. He could read well enough, and write in a cramped hand, but neither letters nor the musical symbols Arrick taught him came as naturally as fiddling.

'Not everyone can hear a song once and play it forever,' Arrick scolded when he had complained of the lessons, punctuating the advice with a clout to the ear. 'You want to sell a song, you've got to be able to write it down.'

Rojer had hated his master in that moment, but now he was thankful for the lesson. He had already put down the tune and the meter of the lyrics. It would take time to translate the meaning fully, but they would be two weeks at best on the road to the Hollow, with nothing else to do.

Rojer smiled, stroking one of the silken pillows. Well, almost nothing.

He heard voices, and peeked through a crack in the curtains, seeing Amanvah and Sikvah approaching with a pair of white-clad dama, a strange-looking Sharum, and two other women.

Rojer immediately recognized Jardir's son Asome and his nephew Asukaji. The warrior must be Amanvah's bodyguard, Enkido. He wore the standard warrior blacks, but his wrists and ankles were bound in golden shackles that seemed permanently welded in place.

The women he did not recognize. Both wore black robes, but one had a veil of white like Sikvah's. The other's face was bare, indicating she was unmarried and unbetrothed.

Asome and Amanvah walked in front, arguing. They stopped in front of the carriage, whispering harsh words that Rojer could not understand. Asome grabbed Amanvah by the shoulders and shook her, his face a scowl. Her supposed bodyguard looked on but did nothing. It seemed doubtful any Krasian would dare strike the Deliverer's son, much less a lowly Sharum.

Rojer felt a chill of fear. He knew Asome could kill him. He had seen dama fight the least of them could use his head as a tackleball. But he couldn't just watch. He ran through his mummer's repertoire, thinking of the most fearless person he knew and putting him on like a cloak.

He kicked open the door of the carriage, startling everyone.

'Get your hands off my wife!' Rojer said in the low growl of the Painted Man. He flicked his good hand, and a throwing knife appeared in it.

Asukaji hissed and looked ready to leap at him, but Asome let Amanvah go and used a hand to forestall him.

'Apologies, son of Jessum,' Asome said, though he did not bow. His Thesan was clear, but heavily accented like Amanvah's. 'A disagreement among siblings, only. I meant no disrespect on your wedding day.' The anger in his tone was barely contained. Had any man ever dared threaten him with a knife before?

'Got a funny way of showin' it,' Gared said, appearing off to one side of the carriage. His huge axe was held casually in one hand, his warded machete in easy reach. Out of the corner of his eye, Rojer saw Wonda quietly appear to the other side, bow in hand. Rojer knew she could nock and fire an arrow in the blink of an eye.

Asukaji moved to interpose himself between her and Asome. There was a cold calm about him, and Rojer wondered if even Wonda could fire before the dama reached her, and if she would hit anything if she did. All around, their dal'Sharum escort was watching.

Rojer gave a shallow bow, little more than a nod, tucking his knife away in a blink and showing his empty hand. 'You honour me, brother, by coming personally to bless our wedding day and present your sister and cousin to me.'

Amanvah gave him a warning look. Rojer knew he was walking a line taking such a familiar tone with men who would as soon kill as speak to him, but he had a handle on the scene now. The dama would not dare attack the Deliverer's new son-in-law in public as long as he kept his words polite.

'Indeed,' Asome agreed, though there was nothing of agreement in his tone. His return bow was the exact depth and duration as Rojer's. Asukaji did the same. 'Blessings upon this day ... brother.'

Asome looked at Amanvah and said a few words in Krasian, then the two dama turned on their heels and strode off to the collective relief of all.

'What did he say?' Rojer asked.

Amanvah hesitated, until he turned and met her eyes. 'He said, "We will speak of this another time."'