'Ay?' Rojer asked.

'Don't get too excited,' Arlen told him. 'They may follow the letter of your commands, but they won't hesitate to disobey the spirit if they think it best for you.'

Amanvah did not seem perturbed by the comment. 'Our honoured husband sometimes requires ... guidance.'

Arlen chuckled. 'Fair and true.'

'Ay!' Rojer shouted.

Arlen smirked. 'I don't think I'm the Deliverer, Amanvah. Don't think your da is, either. Don't believe the Deliverer exists at all, save perhaps as a symbol all may aspire to.'

'An unbeliever, rather than a heretic?' Amanvah asked. 'Is that better?'

Arlen bowed. 'That is for you to decide, Princess.'

The corners of Amanvah's eyes crinkled. 'A decision for another day. Thank you for honouring us by allowing us to share in your celebration.'

Shamavah stepped up then. She held the same writing tablet Arlen had seen her with a hundred times, bringing back a rush of warm memories of Abban's pavilions in the Great Bazaar.

Arlen could see images in her aura, connected to her in ledger lines of black and red, calculating debts paid and debts owed. Amanvah had sent her as a peace offering, and Shamavah was happy for the chance to ingratiate herself with Amanvah and Arlen both. She would do whatever was necessary to make tonight perfect, no matter whom she had to bribe or shout at, but it was a loan that would one day be called to account.

Arlen smiled. 'You are so much like your husband, it makes my heart ache to see my friend Abban again.'

Shamavah bowed. 'The son of Jeph is too kind.' She gave no outward sign, but her aura was truly touched at the words.

And they were honest. Arlen missed his khaffit merchant friend deeply, but Abban had proven many times that while he could occasionally be trusted, he could never be trusted. He lied when needed, but more often there was simply something he wasn't telling you. Usually something important.

Arlen had replayed the events of his last visit to Krasia ten thousand times in his mind, always with a lingering sense of doubt. It was Abban, after all, who procured the map that took Arlen to the ruins of Anoch Sun and the tomb of Kaji, where he had found the warded spear. He had revealed the prize to Abban first, verifying its authenticity. Later that night, Jardir, once Abban's best friend, tried to kill him for it.

And now they were working together. Even if Marick hadn't confirmed it months ago, much of the Krasian conquest had Abban's stamp on it. This was better than the alternative, as Abban was never so brutal or wasteful as Jardir. After the initial crushing of Fort Rizon, huge swathes of the southland were conquered with houses and fields and daughters left intact, keeping the trade routes open, if under dama rule and Evejan law. That was Abban whispering mercy in Jardir's ear, if only for profit's sake.

Whose side are you on, Abban? he wondered. Do you not know your friend tried to murder me? Simply accept it? Or was it your idea all along?

He sighed. Did it even matter? There was no point wasting thought on it now. Soon, he would confront both men and learn the truth. But first, they had to survive new moon.

The line of well-wishers resumed the moment they returned to the party. The next to come before them was an older woman, leading a middle-aged man along beside her. His white clouded eyes staring off at nothing. There was something familiar about them, and Arlen saw in the woman's aura that she had met him before, and felt she owed him a debt.

'Lorry Shepherd, Mr and Mrs Bales,' the woman said with a stiff bow. 'This is my son, Ken. We have nothing to give but our respects and our thanks, but hope you'll accept them. Corelings took the rest of our family on the road while we fled the Krasians. Would have taken me and Kenny, too, if you hadn't come.' She patted the man's arm. 'Things ent been easy, but the Hollow opened its heart to us when you brought our caravan in, and we ent been cold or hungry, even though Kenny can't work. We're grateful for that.'

'Whole Hollow deserves the credit for that,' Arlen said. 'And you, for being so strong when times were tough.'

He looked at Ken Shepherd, standing silently by his mother's side. The man's aura was one of quiet shame, hating himself for his dependence on his aging mother, and for his inability to help his family. But she leaned on him a bit in her dotage, and in that there was a spark of pride. 'You always been blind?'

Ken nodded. 'Ay, since before I can remember.'

''Twas a fever took his eyes, while he was still in swaddling,' Lorry said.

Arlen drew a breath of magic through him, Knowing Ken's eyes and finding the source of disharmony. He reached out instinctively, drawing a touch of power from the greatward as he traced wards with a finger along the man's forehead and around his eyes.

There were gasps as the clouds left Ken's eyes and they became a vibrant hazel, widening as he sputtered, swinging his head this way and that. His aura flared brightly with joy for an instant, then shifted to disorientation and a crushing fear. Finally he squeezed his eyes shut tight, putting his hands over them as his entire body shook.

Arlen put a steadying hand on his shoulder. 'It'll get a bit easier every day, Ken Shepherd. Honest word. Know exactly what you're going through.'

Soon after the hubbub over the Shepherds moved off, a lone kha'Sharum arrived. He did not hesitate in his approach, but Arlen could see fear in his aura. Fear and shame. He caught Amanvah's sharp intake of breath, too low for anyone else to hear, and her aura flashed anger a moment before returning to dama'ting calm.

The warrior knelt before Arlen, pressing his forehead to the cobbles. Arlen didn't need to Know the man to understand what he was feeling. He'd spent enough time with Sharum to know when he was being insulted, and not by the poor kha'Sharum forced to deliver it.

No doubt Drillmaster Kaval thought it a masterful political statement to send a khaffit warrior to make obeisance and present the first gift to Heaven. It was a passive insult that conveniently kept the so-called Spears of the Deliverer men who had all helped Jardir pull Arlen down and rob him of the Spear of Kaji far away from him.

But the sight of a khaffit warrior was no insult to Arlen. How many times had he seen khaffit mistreated in Krasia, denied any rights or social mobility? It had been thus since the Return, but within a few short years of his reign, Jardir had changed that. Was this more whisperings from Abban a quick way to gain warriors or was his traitorous ajin'pal growing a conscience?

The kneeling warrior set a pair of wood demon horns at Arlen and Renna's feet. Arlen could see the magic slowly leaching from the item to feed the greatward's power.

'Jaddah.' Arlen drew the symbol for the first pillar of Heaven in the air. Amanvah looked at him in surprise, but he ignored her, smiling at the warrior.

'Jaddah,' the warrior agreed. His eyes flicked to Amanvah, and his fear intensified.

'Rise and stand tall,' Arlen said in Krasian. When the man did, Arlen bowed. 'Have no fear, brother. Kaval may not see the irony of sending a khaffit to deliver an insult he fears to bring in person, but it is not lost on me. The kha'Sharum bring honour to the dal'Sharum, not the other way around.'

The warrior bowed deeply, and the shift in his aura was beautiful to behold, shame becoming pride and fear becoming elation. 'Thank you, Par'chin.' He bowed again to Renna, and last to Amanvah, then turned and ran back into the night.

Six pillars to come.

'I will discipline Kaval,' Amanvah said when the warrior was gone. 'Please understand his insult is not mine.'

'Spoke honest word,' Arlen said. 'Ran with Sharum in the night, but never had much patience for ones apt to start a blood feud over every slight. Kaval only insults himself.'

Amanvah tilted her head at him, and her aura gave off a sense of respect, though her eyes said nothing. He gave a shallow nod in return.

A moment later Wonda Cutter arrived, laying out the long curved horn of a wind demon, still with its dorsal wing membrane attached. 'Woulda been first, but these things are harder to carve than they are to kill.'

Arlen smiled. Her aura was one of fierce pride, but with a touch of fear. He probed deeper, Knowing her. She was going to ask him for something. Something selfish that she was afraid he might not be able to or worse, might not want to give.

'Blessings upon you, Wonda Cutter,' Amanvah said, 'first of the Sharum'ting.'

Sharum'ting? Arlen was startled. Jardir was giving rights to women now, as well? Would the wonders ever cease?

'Proud of you, Wonda,' Arlen said, raising his voice so others could hear. 'Being the first woman warrior in Krasia is no small deed. There's ever a thing I can do for you, you just name it.'

Wonda smiled, and relief washed over her aura. 'They say you gave Ken Shepherd his eyes back.'

Arlen nodded. 'Ay.'

Wonda had cut her hair to fall over the side of her face the demon had clawed, but she brushed it back, revealing deep puckered lines. Her voice dropped low. 'Can you take away my scars?'

Arlen hesitated. He could do it in an instant, but looking into Wonda's aura, he wasn't sure he should. He drew a ward in the air to keep his reply for her alone.

'I can.' Her eyes lit up and her aura surged in both elation and fear. 'But come new moon, what are you going to be worried about, Wonda Cutter? Your neighbours, or your face?'

Shame filled her aura, and Arlen gestured to his own face, covered in hundreds of tattoos. 'Scars can protect us, Wonda. Remind us what's really important.'

The girl nodded, and he took her shoulders, squeezing. He had to tilt his head up to look in her eyes. 'You think on it. After new moon, you still want this, all you have to do is ask.'

Her aura shifted to a more neutral colour and texture, but a slow swirl began within as she considered his words.

'I suppose this means you're not likely to accept the demon of the desert's proposal, then?' Thamos asked, chewing on the last of his bacon.

Leesha smiled at him. Her own appetite had returned, and she was feeling strong for the first time in weeks. 'It's unlikely.'

'Mother says you can be trusted to do what's best for Hollow County,' Thamos said, 'but that I shouldn't mistake that for following my commands.'

Leesha laughed, rising to clear the plates. 'The Duchess Mum has the right of that.'

'You're a lot like her,' Thamos said.

Leesha cocked a hip at him. 'Not too much like her, I hope, or else last night was something I don't want to think on. I know you Royals like to keep your bloodlines pure.'

Thamos laughed. 'Not that much, though I'll have you know my mother was a great beauty in her day.'

'Of that, I have no doubt,' Leesha said.

'As for bloodlines ...' Thamos shrugged. 'Ours was a minor house a century ago. My grandfather was the first of us to sit the ivy throne, and it was more money than blood that put him there.'

He stood swiftly, sweeping her into his arms. 'You're the closest thing the Hollow has to royalty in any event. Have you ever thought of what you might accomplish as countess?'

Leesha snorted, gently pushing the count back to arm's length. 'Your Highness has a reputation for bedding every young thing that winks at him. Am I supposed to believe you'll stay true?'

Thamos smiled, and kissed her. 'For you, I might be willing to try.'

'If any of us are still around next week, I'll think on it,' Leesha promised, giving him a peck on the lips in return and pulling away to resume her cleaning. She didn't doubt the offer was sincere, but it was more politics than affection. A union between them would cement Thamos' control of the Hollow, and Rhinebeck's control of his duchy, and Araine knew it.

Would that be such a bad thing? She honestly didn't know.

'Is it true you also encountered one of these mind demons Mr Bales speaks of?' Thamos asked.

Leesha nodded. She went to her writing desk, taking an envelope sealed with wax and pressed with her sigil, a mortar and pestle. She handed it to the count. 'For your mother.'

Thamos raised an eyebrow. 'My brother, you mean.'

Leesha raised a brow in return. 'Must we play that game, even alone and intimate?'

'It's not a game,' Thamos said. 'Rhinebeck is duke, and he is paranoid and proud. If you disrespect him openly, there will be consequences.'

Leesha nodded. 'Ay, but he will get his report from you, and I have no doubt you can get a message to Araine-'

'Her Grace,' Thamos corrected.

'... Her Grace,' Leesha allowed, 'without interception. You said yourself that Herb Gatherers were still her purview. There is no disrespect here.'

Thamos frowned, but he took the letter.

'I'll be honest, Highness,' Leesha said. 'I don't know how far I can trust you, either inside my bed or out. Are you here because you care, or because you want to consolidate your hold on Hollow County?'

Thamos smiled. 'Why, both, of course. Cutter's Hollow was always part of Angiers, and depended on the throne for many things, including the Messenger road that kept you connected to the rest of the world. It was a minor hamlet not long ago, but oaths of fealty are not things you can just break when you come into power. Would you have expected the throne to just let you go if you discovered gold or coal on your lands?'

Leesha shook her head. 'Of course not.'

'These wards Mr Bales brought you are no different,' Thamos said. 'And what have we done that is so terrible? Have we not brought food and seed, livestock and warm clothing to your people in their hour of need, as you asked? Helped build them homes and construct the greatwards you helped design? My keep may look imposing, mistress, but it is meant to hold against the Krasians, not to terrorize the people under my protection.'

Leesha nodded. 'For all the good it will do. In two years, the Krasians will have more warriors than there are men, women, and children in Angiers. Even now, they could crush the Hollow in a day if it was their wish, though they would have to leave Everam's Bounty weak and enemies in Lakton at their back to do it. But once the Hollow was theirs, we could do little to take it back, and they would have Lakton caught like a tooth between pliers.'

Thamos shook his head. 'The Krasians will never take Lakton unless the desert rats suddenly become sailors. The Laktonians have port hamlets scattered over hundreds of miles of shoreline to dock for supplies. No force in the world could guard them all, and the crannogs and swamp demons would take a heavy toll if they tried. The Laktonians can turn their ships on a klat, and rain arrows on Docktown or the shores, but the dockmasters are cowards, and will see no gain in taking the fight any farther than the shoreline. A Laktonian off his ship is like a grounded wind demon. No match for anyone.'

'I agree,' Leesha said. 'I've been telling the Laktonians in the hamlets to flee to the Hollow.'

Thamos' eyes narrowed. 'Already acting the countess? You had no right to extend such invitation. We are already at capacity.'

'Nonsense,' Leesha said. 'Our only chance to resist the Krasian advance is to grow as quickly as possible. We must fill the Hollow.' She sighed. 'If there's a Hollow left to fill, once the moon has waned.'

Thamos took her hands, leaning in close. 'We don't need to be at odds, Leesha Paper. I will let every louse-ridden peasant from here to the Krasian desert camp on my doorstep if you'll give me the answers I need.'

'Answers?' Leesha asked, though she knew full well what he meant.

Thamos nodded. 'How many warriors do the Krasians have, and where are they stationed? What did you learn of the mind demons that has you so terrified? Can we trust Mr Bales to not waste lives as he combats them? Will you endorse my rule?'

The sun was beginning to rise, and both of them perked up at the sound of the count's coach approaching. She sighed. 'I'll consider your questions, Highness, and have answers for you soon.'

Thamos stood with military precision, dipping into a tight bow. The sudden formality would have seemed cold, but his eyes never left hers, and he had a mischievous grin splitting his handsome bearded face. 'Dinner, then. Tonight.'

Leesha smiled. 'Your reputation as a hunter is not unwarranted, it seems.'

Thamos winked at her. 'I'll send my coachman at gloaming.'

It was nearly sunrise when the receiving line dwindled, and many of the Hollowers were still dancing. The Cutters and Sharum had returned infused with magical energy, leaving a pile of demon bones as tall as a man in the centre of the Corelings' Graveyard and breathing new life into the celebration.

Arlen drew a deep breath and went to the Jongleur's sound shell. He sprang lightly onstage without the need of steps, though the platform was six feet high. The performers ceased their playing and gave him the floor. The crowd cheered, and Arlen held his hand out to Renna. She, too, leapt onstage effortlessly, and he wrapped an arm around her.

'Know it sounds crazy,' Renna said, 'but swear I can see the love these people have for you like a halo around 'em. Ent never seen anything so beautiful.'

'For us,' Arlen corrected, giving her a squeeze. 'And ay, it's like looking at the sunrise.'

'Can't last, can it?' Renna said. 'Not with what's coming.'

Love you, Renna Tanner. Arlen shook his head. 'Gonna be a bloody honeymoon.'

Renna leaned her head on his shoulder. 'Glad we got to dance first.'

'Ay,' Arlen agreed, giving one last squeeze before letting go to raise his hands and pat the air. The crowd quieted, though it didn't really matter. Arlen sketched a couple of sound wards in the air and his voice carried far and clear.