'Your spear or yourself, Drillmaster,' Leesha cut in. 'It's a fair request, and they could as easily drop you where you stand.' Kaval let out a low growl, but he bent and laid down his spear, as did Enkido.

'Who're you, then?' the lead man asked when they made it to the porch.

'Leesha Paper,' Leesha said.

The man blinked. 'Mistress of the Hollow?'

Leesha smiled. 'The same.'

The man's eyes narrowed. 'What are you doing so far south? And with the likes of them?' He nodded at the Krasians.

'We are returning from a meeting with the Krasian leader,' Leesha said, 'and wish to spend the night in Greenmeadow.'

'Since when do Herb Gatherers go on diplomacy missions?' the man asked. 'That's Messenger work.'

Rojer stepped forward, extending a hand with a sweep of his motley cloak. 'I am the herald of Deliverer's Hollow. Rojer Halfgrip, former apprentice to Arrick Sweetsong, one-time herald of Duke Rhinebeck of Angiers.'

'Halfgrip?' the man asked. 'The one they call the fiddle wizard?' Rojer smiled widely at that, nodding.

'You have our names, but have not given yours,' Leesha said. 'I'm guessing you are Havold, the Town Speaker?'

'Ay, how d'you know that?' the man demanded.

'Your Herb Gatherer, Mistress Ana, once wrote to me for advice on curing your daughter Thea of the gasping cough,' Leesha said. 'She is well, I take it?'

'That was ten years ago,' Havold said. 'She has children of her own now, and I don't care for the thought of them sleeping not half a mile from a bunch of murdering Krasians. We heard the stories from those that passed through last winter, running from them.' His bearded lip curled at Kaval and Enkido, showing the tip of one of his canines.

Leesha prayed the drillmaster would not rise to the bait, and breathed a sigh when he remained silent. 'I cannot speak for the people as a whole, but I can vouch for the men in my caravan. If left alone, they will keep to themselves and harm no one. Most will remain in their carts on the road, but my parents are elderly and I would dearly appreciate a few beds for the night. As my herald told you, we can pay, in both gold and entertainment.'

Havold's mouth was a hard line, but he nodded.

Leesha sat in the taproom with her parents, Gared, Wonda, Kaval, and Enkido as Rojer tuned his fiddle. He sat in a plain hard-back chair in a dimly lit corner, Amanvah and Sikvah kneeling on clean cloth to either side of him. Leesha could tell the drillmaster and eunuch were uneasy with Amanvah and Sikvah on the stage such things were unheard of in Krasia but they kept their peace after a few harsh whispers from the dama'ting. The other tables and bar stools were packed with Meadowers, with more standing at the back. A Jongleur would draw a crowd in any event, but Leesha could see as many eyes on the Krasians at her table as on the stage, not all of them friendly. The general din kept her from making out details, but there was angry murmuring throughout the room.

At least until the music began.

Rojer had done nothing to warm the crowd as he had the day before. No acrobatics or juggling, no magic tricks, jokes, or stories. With his wives on stage, he played and nothing more.

As he had in Ahmann's dining hall, Rojer began with a slow, quiet melody, building in complexity and volume until the sound filled the room, wrapping everyone in its spell. The crowd fell silent, eyes glazing. In her heart, Leesha knew his playing was not truly magic, but the way human and demon both were moved by it belied that fact. He had a gift none could deny.

When the music built to a crescendo, Amanvah and Sikvah began to sing, wordlessly at first, but then in perfect Thesan: Everam the Creator Saw the cold blackness of Nie And felt no satisfaction Creating Blessed Ala He sparked sun and moon for light And men in His own image Everam was satisfied Nie was vexed by Creation Marring Her perfect dark void She reached out to crush Ala When Everam stayed Her hand Nie spat blackness on His world The Mother of all demons Alagai'ting Ka uncurled Everam blew a great breath Spinning all His Creation The Demon Queen fled before The holy sun and moonlight Cursing Alagai'ting Ka Slipped into the dark abyss At the centre of Ala But Ala turned and night fell Heralding Nie's dark children Get of Alagai'ting Ka The destroyers, alagai Everam against Nie's might Bade man to defend himself Steadfast in the cold moonlight Moonlight is always Waning Alagai power growing And when the moonlight falls dark Alagai Ka walks Ala Ward your mind when Waning teems Lest the father of demons Devour your thoughts and dreams Everam Great and Mighty Sent His children one last gift Gave us the Deliverer Shar'Dama Ka leads the way To glory and Heaven's light Unite Everam's children To purge the Demon Queen's blight Shar'Dama Ka is Coming To unite mankind as one Kneel to him and Everam Or be levied with the spear To bathe in alagai gore Joining glorious battle Of Sharak Ka, the First War Leesha felt an ache in her hand, and realized she had been clutching her teacup so hard her knuckles showed white. She forced herself to relax and glance around a room holding its collective breath. At the last verse she expected the Krasians to suddenly produce weapons though those had all been left in their rooms or the Meadowers to riot. Instead, all burst into a cacophony of sound. Kaval and Enkido roared and stomped their feet, sending bits of dust drifting down from the rafters. The clapping of the Thesans was like an entire box of festival crackers.

Not for the first time, she had underestimated Rojer. He seemed a boy, eighteen summers old, with only the barest whisper of hair on his face. Often his actions made him seem younger still petulant, impetuous, and downright foolhardy. Leesha was forever fretting when he ignored her advice, sure she knew better than he, sure she could solve all his problems if he would only listen and do as he was told.

But Rojer had done more with a song than she could have ever imagined, telling the Meadowers everything they needed to know about the Krasians and their beliefs, warning them about the danger of the coming new moon, and telling them in no uncertain terms that Ahmann's army was coming their way.

Most of all, he had done it right under the Krasians' noses, revealing nothing their dama did not shout from their pedestals and minarets. He might as well have said the sky was blue. Amanvah and Sikvah thought they were singing their father's glory, when in fact they were telling folk to pack their things and run as fast and far as they could.

Leesha was accustomed to knowing best, but suddenly it was she who felt directionless, and Rojer the one who could see the net for its wards.

'That was beautiful, Rojer,' she said, rising as they took their bows and returned to the table. Kaval and Enkido were on their feet instantly, moving to surround the women protectively.

'Thank you,' Rojer said, 'but it was a group effort. I could never have done it without Amanvah and Sikvah.'

'My husband is too modest,' Amanvah said. 'We taught him a song everyone knows, and helped him understand the meaning of its words, but it was he who put it in your language, finding rhymes and words we could never have hoped to.'

Leesha smiled. 'I think you, too, are being modest, Amanvah.' She looked at Rojer. 'But it's true Rojer added ... subtle touches that were nothing short of brilliant.'

Just for an instant, Rojer shot her a glare, too fast for the others to notice. Amanvah looked at her curiously, and Leesha realized Rojer wasn't the only one she was underestimating. The dama'ting might be young, but she was no fool.

Havold came over after the performance, and Leesha taught him the mind demon ward, and how to make headbands with it for use on new moon.

'You mean those things are real?' Havold gaped.

'Every threat in that song is real, Speaker,' Leesha said. 'Every one.'

Rojer woke the next morning at the gentle rebound of the feathered mattress as Amanvah and Sikvah slipped to the floor. They were making an effort not to wake him, but after many nights among the skilled pickpockets of the Jongleurs' Guild, he had learned to sleep lightly.

He kept his breathing even, pretending to shift in his sleep to give himself a better view as the women lit oil lamps and began their morning ritual. It was not yet dawn, and Rojer could likely sleep another hour before needing to rise and rejoin the caravan, but some things were preferable to sleep.

Watching his wives exercise was one of them.

Amanvah and Sikvah were clad only in loose diaphanous pants and tops, leaving little to the imagination as they moved through their sharusahk poses. Rojer felt himself stiffen and shifted under the blankets to put a bit of pressure on himself, swallowing a groan of pleasure as he mused about how lucky he was.

As always, the women seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to his arousal. They turned to regard him, and Rojer was not quick enough to close his eyes. Immediately, they ceased their exercise and moved towards him.

'No, please,' Rojer said. 'Don't let me interrupt. I enjoy watching.'

Sikvah looked to Amanvah, who shrugged, and the women resumed their posing.

'Your sharusahk is nothing like what Gared and Wonda are learning from Kaval,' Rojer noted.

Amanvah snorted. 'Sharum sharusahk is like wolves howling at the moon. Even the dama are only a cricket's song. This,' she fell into a series of poses, 'is music.'

Rojer concentrated, thinking of Darsy Cutter, the homely Herb Gatherer of Deliverer's Hollow. He undressed the woman in his mind's eye until his arousal faded, then rose from the bed, moving over to face Amanvah, imitating her as she shifted from stance to stance.

It was surprisingly difficult, even for one trained to the stage. Rojer could walk on his hands, tumble, flip, and dance every dance from royal ballrooms to country reels, but the sharukin tested muscles he didn't even know he had, forcing him to hold more balance than it took to walk a ball while fiddling.

Sikvah laughed. 'That is quite good, husband.'

'Don't lie to me, jiwah,' Rojer said, smirking to let her know it was only teasing. 'I know it was awful.'

'Sikvah does not lie,' Amanvah said, moving to adjust his pose. 'Your form is good, it is only your centre that is off.'

'My centre?'

'Imagine yourself a palm tree, swaying in the wind,' Amanvah said. 'You bend, but do not break.'

'I would,' Rojer said, 'but I have never seen a palm tree. You might as well tell me to imagine myself a fairy pipkin.'

Amanvah did not frown, but neither did she offer him a smile. In her eyes, there was no humour in sharusahk. He swallowed his smirk and let her guide his stance.

'Your centre is the invisible line that connects you, the Ala, and Heaven,' Amanvah said. 'It is balance, but also so much more than that. It is the calm place of silence, the deep place you fall into when you embrace music, the soothing place where you ignore pain.' She grabbed his crotch. 'It is the hard place you use to seed your wives, and the safe place you use to sway with the wind.'

Rojer groaned at her touch, and this time, Amanvah did smile. She took a step back, signalling to Sikvah. Both women reached into pouches at their waists, slipping their fingers into the tiny cymbals used for the pillow dance.

For the next few days, the scene was repeated in one Laktonian village after another, talking the townsfolk down from their fear of the Sharum, and then performing for them. Rojer felt a bit of guilt for duping his wives about the message they were giving, but since they hadn't even bothered to tell him they spoke his language at first, he managed to keep the feeling at bay. It wasn't a betrayal. He was just spreading news they already thought common knowledge.

Each morning, Amanvah and Sikvah continued his sharusahk training while Enkido looked on the proceedings, his face carved from stone. It seemed more a lark than a concerted effort, but it was pleasurable enough. Leesha had told him of the deadly nerve strikes Inevera had attempted, and the ease with which the woman had wrestled her into a choke hold. There was none of that in his wives' lessons. He improved slightly, but not enough to even attempt some of the more difficult poses.

'You must walk before you dance,' Amanvah said.

They were moving at a faster pace now as they moved farther from the Krasians' control. Once, their caravan was attacked a quick strike on horseback by a dozen bandits with throwing spears and short bows, meant to distract as another group raided one of the baggage carts. The Sharum were not fooled. They killed four of the bandits and injured several more before they broke and ran. The caravan was unmolested after that.

Less than a week out from Deliverer's Hollow, they were beginning to feel more comfortable, with Leesha's familiarity with the local Gatherers growing with proximity to home. Some were women she had corresponded with for years but never met. In the village of Northfork, there were actually tears and hugging, but all Rojer could feel was a growing tension. The folk here felt safer from the Sharum, and that made them bold.

That night in the taproom, after he finished the Song of Waning, there was polite applause, but then the barkeep called, 'Ay, play The Battle of Cutter's Hollow!' The request was followed by a chorus of ays, with much hooting and stomping of feet.

Rojer suppressed a furrow of his brow that threatened to mar his Jongleur's mask. Two months ago, he was touting that song from every rooftop, and had sold it dear to the Jongleurs' Guild.

He looked to Amanvah. 'Please play if that is your wish, husband. Sikvah and I will return to our table. We would be honoured to hear a song of our new tribe's heroism in the night.'

They smoothly rolled back onto their heels and stood. Rojer wanted to kiss them as they passed, but while they seemed to be growing more comfortable with Northern customs, that was too far for any Krasian woman short of the Damajah herself to be expected to go in public.

Our new tribe. Rojer gritted his teeth. Did they really know what they were asking for? He had not been fool enough to sing The Battle of Cutter's Hollow while in the confines of Everam's Bounty it bordered on blasphemy.

But they weren't in Everam's Bounty. They were in Laktonian lands now, and surrounded by Thesans who deserved to know that their cousins in the North were growing in power, and had their own saviour to rally to. Rojer didn't really think Arlen Bales was the Deliverer any more than he did Ahmann Jardir, but if folk needed to look to one for strength in the night and a way forward, he would still take the Painted Man over the Shar'Dama Ka. He wasn't going to spend the rest of his life lying about it and hiding that fact from his wives.

Now was as good a time as any.

Slowly, he began to play. As he fell into the music, his fear and anxiety began to drift away like demon ashes in the morning breeze. He had been so proud of the song when he had written it, and as his fingers danced across the familiar notes, he found he still was. The Battle of Cutter's Hollow might not have the sheer power of the Song of Waning, but he could weave a shell of protection in the night with it, keeping corelings at bay, and it had power over the hearts of all good folk. It was already sung far and wide, and would likely outlive him, lasting into the ages like the ancient sagas.

He fell into the trance that playing always brought, blocking out his wives, the Sharum, Leesha, and the patrons. When he was ready, he began to sing.

He had kept the song simple, both so country folk could clap and sing along, but also for his own benefit. His voice was nothing compared with Amanvah's and Sikvah's, or with that of his famed master, Arrick Sweetsong. Even in his cups, when folk laughed and called him 'Soursong' and he could forget lyrics midsong, Arrick still had levels of vocal ability Rojer could never match.

But he had been trained by the best, and while he lacked the lungs and natural talent, Rojer could carry a tune well enough, his voice high and clear.

Cutter's Hollow lost its centre When the flux came to stay Killed great Herb Gatherer Bruna Her 'prentice far away Not a one would run and hide, They all did stand and follow Killing demons in the night The Painted Man came to the Hollow In Fort Angiers far to the north Leesha got ill tiding Her mentor dead, her father sick Hollow a week's riding Not a one would run and hide, They all did stand and follow Killing demons in the night The Painted Man came to the Hollow No guide she found through naked night Just Jongleur travel wards That could not hold the bandits back As it did coreling hordes Not a one would run and hide, They all did stand and follow Killing demons in the night The Painted Man came to the Hollow Left for dead no horse or succour Corelings roving in bands They met a man with tattooed flesh Killed demons with bare hands Not a one would run and hide, They all did stand and follow Killing demons in the night The Painted Man came to the Hollow The Hollow razed when they arrived Not a ward left intact And half the folk who called it home Lay dead or on their backs Not a one would run and hide, They all did stand and follow Killing demons in the night The Painted Man came to the Hollow Painted Man spat on despair Said follow me and fight We'll see the dawn if we all stand Side by side in the night Not a one would run and hide, They all did stand and follow Killing demons in the night The Painted Man came to the Hollow All night they fought with axe and spear Butcher's knife and shield While Leesha brought those too weak to The Holy House to heal Not a one would run and hide, They all did stand and follow Killing demons in the night The Painted Man came to the Hollow Hollowers kept their loved ones safe Though night was long and hard There's reason why the battlefield's Called the Corelings' Graveyard Not a one would run and hide, They all did stand and follow Killing demons in the night The Painted Man came to the Hollow If someone asks why at sunset Demons all get shivers Hollowers say with honest word It's 'coz we're all Deliverers Not a one would run and hide, They all did stand and follow Killing demons in the night The Painted Man came to the Hollow 'The true Deliverer!' someone in the crowd shouted, and there was a cheer of agreement.

There was the sound of a chair hitting the floor, and Rojer opened his eyes to see Kaval moving his way, seething with anger. Gared leapt to his feet, putting himself between them. The giant Cutter was eight inches taller and a hundred pounds heavier. He grabbed Kaval and for a moment seemed to have control, but the drillmaster gave his great log of an arm a twist and Gared roared in pain just before he was thrown halfway across the room. Kaval gave him no further notice, picking up speed as he went after Rojer.

Wonda had instinctively reached for her bow, but when she realized it was in her room, she did not hesitate to attack the drillmaster unarmed. She kept to the balls of her feet, guard up as she threw quick, economical punches and kicks, wisely refusing to grapple. She lasted a few seconds longer than Gared, but then Kaval diverted one of her punches and chopped her in the throat with the edge of one hand. He grabbed her arm as she choked and twisted in close, sending her crashing onto the centre of a table, cracking it in half with the impact. Wonda hit the floor under a spray of splinters, ale, and shattered glass.

The barkeeper had produced a cudgel and people were shouting all over the room, but none of them was close enough to aid Rojer. He flicked his wrist to produce a throwing knife, but fumbled in his panic and dropped it as Kaval closed in.

Then Enkido was there, hooking Kaval's armpit and turning his momentum into a throw. The drillmaster was wise to the move, quickstepping around and managing to keep his feet. He shouted something in Krasian as he came back in with a kick, followed by a snapping punch. Neither blow landed, Enkido slipping the kick and catching Kaval's wrist to divert the punch. His free arm snapped out, punching the drillmaster hard in his shoulder joint. Enkido let the limb go and it fell limp. Kaval struck with his other fist, but it was like hitting at smoke. Enkido flowed out of its path and then struck Kaval's other shoulder, rolling smoothly around to kick at the back of Kaval's knee.

With frightening ease he got behind the drillmaster, locking his limp arms and forcing him down to the floor. Kaval's face was agonized as his tendons screamed, but he did not cry out. Enkido was silent as always, his face expressionless.

'Enough,' Amanvah said, and the eunuch immediately released the drillmaster and took a step back. Kaval turned to the dama'ting, speaking through his teeth in Krasian. Rojer could not understand what he was saying, but the meaning was clear in the fanatical look in his eyes.

Amanvah responded in Thesan, her voice cold. 'If you or any Sharum lays so much as a finger on my husband, Drillmaster, you will spend eternity sitting outside the gates of Heaven.' Kaval's eyes widened at that. He put his forehead on the floor, but there was still rage on his face.

Amanvah turned to Rojer. 'And you, husband, will not play that song ever again.'

Rojer did not need to touch his medallion for strength. The flare of anger was enough and more. No one was going to tell him what he could and couldn't play. 'The Core I won't. I'm no Holy Man. It's not for me to tell folk what to believe. All I do is tell stories, and both of these are true.'

The little vein on Amanvah's forehead throbbed, signalling anger that did not touch her eyes. She nodded.

'Then my father will hear of this. Kaval, select your strongest, fastest dal'Sharum. I shall write a letter he is to put in the hand of Shar'Dama Ka and no other. Tell him to take two horses, kill no alagai but those that would hinder him, and that Sharak Ka itself may depend upon his swiftness.'

Kaval nodded and rolled back onto his heels to rise and comply, but Leesha stood and moved in front of him, crossing her arms. 'He won't make it,' she warned.

'Eh?' Amanvah asked.

'I've poisoned your Sharum,' Leesha said, 'with something that far outlasts the weak antidote I've been putting in their soup. You are several days from the nearest ally, and without the antidote, your man won't last half that time.'

Amanvah stared at Leesha a long time, and Rojer wondered if it was honest word. Surely not. Leesha was capable of many things, but killing with poison? Impossible.

Amanvah's eyes narrowed. 'Kaval, do as I command.'

'I'm not bluffing,' Leesha warned.

'No,' Amanvah agreed, 'I do not believe you are.'

'But you will send a man to his death anyway?' Leesha asked.

'It is you who have served him death,' Amanvah said. 'I am doing what I must to protect his brothers in Everam's Bounty. I will throw the dice and prepare herbs for him to take, but if you have truly poisoned him and I do not guess the cure, he will go to glory as a martyr, and his soul will weigh against you when you are judged by the Creator at the end of the lonely road.'

'Neither of us will go to him clean after this,' Leesha said.

'You make no difference to these people by frightening them and confusing them with lies and half-truth. When my father chooses to take their lands, they will be taken. These people will be stronger for it, and have a chance at glory and Heaven.' Amanvah flicked a finger, and the drillmaster was off. A few of the men in the taproom looked like they might hinder him, but Kaval bared his teeth and they wisely stepped from his path.

With a final glare at Rojer, Amanvah and Sikvah stormed off, heading up to their rooms with Enkido in tow. Rojer watched them sadly as they ascended the steps and vanished from sight. It was true he would never stop playing The Battle of Cutter's Hollow, but he need not have sprung it on them onstage. He knew what it was like, to feel left out in the middle of an act.

When the shock wore off, Rojer realized he and the other Hollowers were completely alone for the first time since the journey began. Wonda and Gared seemed to have more injury to their pride than their bodies, and kept watch as the others spoke.

'Well that was terrifying,' Rojer said.

'You were lucky,' Leesha said. 'It's one thing to use the Song of Waning to tell the locals to get out of the Krasians' path without their realizing what you're doing, but quite another to sing of another Deliverer right under their noses. You may as well have spit on everything they believe in.'

'So we should pretend the Battle of Cutter's Hollow never happened?' Wonda demanded. 'That we fought for nothing? That my da just up and died, rather than went down taking a copse of woodies with him? That the Painted Man didn't do just what happened in the song?'

'Gettin' sick of pretending up is down and black is white,' Gared said.

'Of course not,' Leesha said. 'But we're vulnerable on the road. We'll be back in the Hollow soon enough. Between now and then, I suggest we tread carefully.'

'Ay, everyone all right?' the innkeeper asked, bringing over a fresh tray of drinks. He was accompanied by Gery, the Speaker for Northfork, and Nicholl, the Herb Gatherer.