The Desert Spear

show their age, are all the same. Elona was always the center of attention when she was young, and that’s the only way she knows how to interact with the world. You and your father have long conversations about warding that she’s no part of, and it makes her starve to be noticed, any way she can. Make her think she’s the center of attention, even if she’s not, and she’ll eat out of your hand.”
    Leesha looked at him a moment, then barked a laugh. “Your master didn’t know a thing about women.”
    “He sure seemed to,” Rojer replied, “considering how adept he was at bedding them.”
    Leesha raised an eyebrow at him. “And how many has his apprentice bedded using these brilliant techniques?”
    Rojer smiled. “Kissing tales aren’t the kind I spin, but a Milnese sun says they work on your mum.”
    “Taken,” Leesha said.

    “So the merchant tells Arrick, ‘I paid you to teach my wife to dance!’ ” Rojer said, “and Arrick, calm as dawn, looks at him and says, ‘I
did.
Ent my fault she preferred to do it lying down.’ ”
    Elona burst out laughing, sloshing wine from her cup as she banged it on the table. Rojer joined her, and they clapped their cups together and drank.
    Leesha scowled at them from the other end of the table where she and her father were talking. She honestly didn’t know which she dreaded more: winning the bet with Rojer, or losing it. Perhaps bringing him was a bad idea. The bawdy stories were bad enough, but worse was the way Rojer’s eyes kept flicking to her mother’s cleavage, though she could hardly blame him, the way Elona had it on display.
    The plates had long since been cleared. Erny sat leafing through the book Leesha had brought him, his eyes tiny behind the thin, wire-framed glasses that never seemed to leave the edge of his nose. Finally, he grunted and set it aside for later, gesturing at the stack of bound leather books in front of Leesha.
    “Only had time to make a few more,” he said. “You fill them faster than I can bind.”
    “Blame my apprentices,” Leesha said, fetching the teakettle from the fire. “They make three copies for every book I fill.”
    “Still,” Erny said. “I only had one grimoire of wards my entire life, and never filled it. How many is this you’ve made now? A dozen?”
    “Seventeen,” Leesha said, “but it’s as much demonology as wards, and more comes from the Painted Man than me. Just copying the wards on his skin filled several books.”
    “Oh?” Elona asked, looking up. “And how much of his skin have you seen?”
    “Mother!” Leesha cried.
    “Creator knows, I’m not judging,” Elona said. “You could do worse than bear the Deliverer’s child, even if he’s a horror to look at. But you’d best get to it, if that’s your plan. Plenty younger and more fertile than you will soon be vying for the privilege.”
    “He’s not the Deliverer, Mum,” Leesha said.
    “That’s not how everyone else tells,” Elona said. “Even Gared worships him.”
    “Oh, and if Gared Cutter thinks something, it
must
be right,” Leesha said rolling her eyes.
    Rojer whispered something in Elona’s ear, and she laughed again, turning her attention back to him. Leesha blew out a sigh of relief.
    “Speaking of the Painted Man,” Erny said, “where has he got off to? Smitt tells me another Messenger’s come from the duke, summoning him to an audience, but again he’s nowhere to be found on Messenger day.”
    Leesha shrugged. “I doubt he much cares about an audience with the duke. He doesn’t consider himself one of Rhinebeck’s subjects.”
    “You’d best tell him to think twice,” Erny said. “The Hollow isn’t producing wood like it should, and Rhinebeck is getting angry. Ignoring Messengers may hold him off now, while the road is choked with snow and he can’t send a sizable force, but come spring melt the duke will want answers, and assurance that Deliverer’s Hollow remains loyal.”
    “Does it?” Rojer asked, looking up. “If the Painted Man sets himself at odds with Rhinebeck, the Hollow would likely flock to his banner in an instant.”
    “Yes,” Erny agreed. “Other hamlets, as well, and probably a great many folk in Fort Angiers itself. The Painted Man could start a civil war with a word, which is why it’s all the more important he declare his intentions before Rhinebeck does something rash.”
    Leesha nodded. “I’ll talk to him. I have unfinished business in Angiers,