The Desert Spear

otherwise.”
    “Then tell your men to put their spears down,” Gared said, holding an axe in one hand and his warded blade in the other. Dozens of Cutters hurried across the graveyard and gathered at his back, but Hasik and Shanjat seemed unfazed—more than willing to fight the lot of them. Having seen the Krasian warriors fight, Rojer expected they would give far better than they got.
    But then Jardir shouted something in Krasian, and his bodyguards sheathed their spears, though they kept their shields out.
    “Din’t say put ’em away, I said put ’em
down,
” Gared growled.
    Jardir smiled. “
Guests
are not asked to leave their knives at the door, Gared, son of Steave.”
    Gared opened his mouth to reply, but Rojer cut him off.
    “Of course, you are correct,” he said loudly, looking at Gared. “Put up your axe,” he told the giant Cutter.
    Gared’s eyes widened. It was the first time Rojer had ever publicly given Gared an order, and it was one the Cutter might well refuse to accept, for if he put up his weapon, every other Cutter would as well.
    Their eyes met, and Gared challenged him in that look, but Rojer was a mummer, and his face easily imitated the harsh look of the Painted Man, his voice deepening to the rasp Arlen used to frighten people and distance himself from them.
    “Ent gonna tell you again, Gared,” he said, and he felt it as the giant’s will broke. Gared nodded and stepped back, returning his axe to its harness and his blade to its sheath. The other Cutters looked at him in surprise, but they did the same, taking comfort in their numbers.
    Rojer turned to face Jardir. “Is there something I can help you with?”
    “Indeed,” said Jardir, bowing. “I wish to speak with Mistress Leesha.”
    “She’s not in town,” Rojer said.
    “I see,” Jardir said. “Can you tell me where I might find her?”
    “The Core we will!” Gared growled, but Rojer and Jardir both ignored him.
    “Why?” Rojer asked.
    “She has given me a gift of incredible value in the cloak,” Jardir said. “I wish to bestow a gift of equal value upon her.”
    “What gift?” Rojer asked.
    Jardir smiled. “That is a matter between Mistress Leesha and myself.”
    Rojer considered him. Part of him screamed not to trust this smiling desert demon who had slaughtered and raped so many, but Jardir seemed to have his own code of honor, and he did not think the man would try to harm Leesha while the truce held. And if the gift he offered was truly magic of equal value, they might be fools to refuse it.
    “I’ll take you to her if you leave your warriors behind,” Rojer said.
    Jardir bowed. “Of course.” The guards gave a cry of protest, as did Gared and a few of the Cutters, but again Rojer and Jardir ignored them. “My intentions toward Mistress Leesha are honorable, and I will of course accept a chaperone while in her presence.”
    It seemed an odd choice of words, but Rojer could not find further cause to argue. Soon they were walking the path to Leesha’s cottage. Gared insisted on coming along, and glared at Jardir the whole way, though the Krasian leader seemed thankfully oblivious.

    “Why does the mistress not live on your village’s wondrous greatward?” Jardir asked. “I would think her too valuable to risk to the
alagai.
”
    Rojer laughed. “If all the Core rose up tonight, you’d be safer in Leesha’s cottage than anywhere else in the world.”
    Jardir found that hard to believe, but as they came close to the cottage, he found the path laid with a walkway of stone wards, each large enough to stand upon without marring it.
    Jardir stopped short, looking at the stones in amazement. He squatted, pressing against the stone with his hand. “Everam’s beard. It must have taken a thousand slaves to carve these.”
    “We ent a bunch of filthy desert slavers like you,” Gared muttered. Jardir’s first impulse was to kill the man, but that was no way to impress the mistress. He embraced the insult instead and gave it no further thought, returning his focus to the path.
    “The wards were poured, not carved,” Rojer said, “made from a mixture of stone and water called crete, which hardens as it dries. Leesha cut them into the ground herself, and
free men
poured the stone.”
    Jardir scanned the path ahead in amazement. “These are combat wards. And linked.”
    Rojer nodded. “Any demon that sets foot on this path might as well step into a sunbeam.”
    Jardir realized he had been