The Desert Spear

clenched fists were like two hams, and even Wonda had fetched and strung her bow. Finally, the door opened, and Leesha followed Jardir out onto the porch. “Wonda, escort Mr. Jardir back to town,” she said. “Gared, you can finish cording the woodpile.”
    Gared grunted and picked up Wonda’s axe as she and Jardir headed down the path. Rojer looked at Leesha, who nodded her head back to the door. She went inside, and he followed as she went right to Bruna’s rocker and put on her shawl. Never a good sign.
    “How did he take your refusal?” Rojer asked, not bothering to sit.
    Leesha sighed. “He didn’t. Told me to take my time and think it through. He’s invited me back to Rizon with him.”
    “You can’t go,” Rojer said.
    Leesha raised an eyebrow at that. “You have no more say over who I marry than my mother, Rojer.”
    “Are you saying you want to marry him?” Rojer asked. “After a single tea and an awkward lunch?”
    “Of course not,” Leesha said. “I have no intention of accepting his proposal.”
    “Then why in the Core would you deliver yourself into his hands?” Rojer asked.
    “There’s an army at our doorstep, Rojer,” Leesha said. “You don’t see value in looking at them with our own eyes? Counting tents and learning how their leader thinks?”
    “Not at the cost of our own leader,” Rojer said. “Duke Rhinebeck doesn’t personally go to Miln to see what Euchor’s up to. He sends spies.”
    “I don’t have any spies,” Leesha said.
    Rojer snorted. “You have over a thousand Rizonans who owe you their lives, many who left family behind. Surely a few could be persuaded to return home and keep their ears open.”
    “I won’t order people to put themselves at risk,” Leesha said.
    “But you’ll put yourself?” Rojer asked.
    “I don’t think Ahmann would harm me,” Leesha said.
    “Two days ago, he was the demon of the desert,” Rojer said. “Now he’s Ahmann? What, do you just shine on any man who thinks he ’s the Deliverer?”
    Leesha scowled. “I don’t want to hear any more of this, Rojer.”
    “I don’t care what you want,” Rojer snapped. “You’ve heard how the Krasians treat women. No matter what that oily snake tells you, the moment you’re out of range of the Hollowers’ bows you’ll be his property, and anyone with you will get a spear in the eye.”
    “So you won’t be coming with me?” Leesha asked.
    “Night, haven’t you heard anything I’ve been saying?” Rojer demanded.
    “Every word,” Leesha said, “but I’m still going. If that’s the kind of man Ahmann is, then war is inevitable and it doesn’t matter what we do. But if there’s even a chance he meant what he said at the table, then there’s a chance we can find a way to coexist without killing each other, and that’s worth more to the world than the fate of Leesha Paper.”
    Rojer sighed, plopping down in a chair. “When do we leave?”

[] SECTION 4
    THE CALL OF THE CORE

CHAPTER 26
RETURN TO TIBBET’S BROOK
    p.
333 AR SUMMER

    THE PAINTED MAN’S MOOD was black as Fort Miln receded in the distance. Any happiness he had felt upon leaving Ragen and Elissa’s manse was swept away by the meeting with Jaik. The conversation played out over and over in his mind, all the words he should have said presented themselves too late, and did little to dispel a nagging doubt that his friend was right.
    To take his mind away, he read through the book Ronnell had given him, but that brought no comfort. Laid bare were Leesha’s coveted secrets of fire, with metalwork diagrams to turn their force into tools of precision killing. Tools designed for killing not demons, but men.
    Did the corelings drive us to the brink of extinction,
he wondered,
or did we do it to ourselves?
    He caught sight of a ruined keep off the side of the road as the sun began to set. One of Euchor’s predecessors had kept a garrison there, but the keep had fallen to demons and never been rebuilt. Most Messengers, convinced it was haunted, gave it a wide berth. A rusted gate hung bent and torn from twisted moorings, and great holes had been broken in the outer wall.
    He rode into the keep, staking Twilight Dancer in a warded circle. He stripped to his loincloth, selecting a spear and bow. As darkness fell, the stinking mists began to seep up between the shattered stones of the courtyard. Corelings rose thickly in unwarded ruins, instinct telling them the odds were good prey might one day return. Fifty