CHAPTER 45

THE PACT

335 AR

They came to the Hollow from all over Thesa and Krasia, royal carts lining the road to Leesha’s palace as they dropped off their charges.

First to arrive were the Angierians. Duchess Araine, accompanied by Melny and her infant grandson, Rhinebeck the Fourth.

“Boy wails night and day,” Araine grumbled, but Leesha could tell it was only a façade. Araine looked better than she had in months, and Angiers was slowly recovering under her steady hand. Pawl accompanied the duchess as always, and Leesha could not help but feel a mild discomfort, remembering the boy’s words under the demons’ control.

Next came the Laktonians, Isan accompanied by his most powerful dockmasters and Captains Dehlia and Qeran.

“Welcome, Duke Isan.”

“Damaji Isan,” Isan corrected. “At least until the new pact is signed.”

Duke Ragen and Duchess Elissa arrived a few days later. Leesha knew what to expect, but it pained her to see Elissa’s lurching steps, even on Ragen’s steady arm.

“I can have a wheeled chair brought,” Leesha said in her ear as they embraced.

“No, thank you,” Elissa said. “I spend enough of my time sitting these days.”

“If you’ll allow it, I’d like to examine you after the ceremony,” Leesha said. “Perhaps there is something I can do that your Gatherers could not.”

Elissa gave her arms a squeeze. “Perhaps. But I have come to see that there are some hurts even magic cannot heal.”

Abban arrived before his master to prepare for Jardir’s arrival. The fat khaffit walked on two camel crutches now, but he was smiling. “Everam’s beard, it is good to see you, daughter of Erny!”

Leesha bit back a scowl at all the pain he’d caused, but Abban’s advice to her had always been honest, and he paid a heavy price for his failings.

“I am glad to see you recovered, son of Chabin,” she said in Krasian.

Abban bowed as much as his crutches allowed. “I am nothing short of amazed at how quickly you have mastered our language.”

Leesha winked. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“I am to warn you,” Abban said, “the Damajah will arrive with my master.”

“Of course.” Leesha expected as much. “It would not be proper for Shar’Dama Ka to visit without his Jiwah Ka to chaperone.”

Abban bowed again. “I see you have come to understand our ways as well as our language.”

The rest of the Krasians arrived soon after, their honor guard of dal’Sharum met by Gared and an equal number of Hollow Soldiers. Leesha met their delegation in her receiving hall, but she stepped down from the throne to greet them in friendship. Wonda and Stela flanked her, eyes alert.

Briar was with them, looking almost unrecognizable in Sharum blacks, bathed and groomed. He carried a toddler on his shoulder, accompanied by a Sharum’ting in a white turban.

“Who’s she?” Stela asked.

Leesha did not reply, tightening her throat against the forming lump as Amanvah appeared, carrying an infant girl. Kendall was with her, carrying the boy.

Finally, Inevera and Ahmann were presented. The Damajah’s eyes were cold, but her nod was respectful. Jardir, looking handsome and regal, beamed and embraced her under Inevera’s watchful glare.

“Intended.”

“Will you ever stop calling me that?” Leesha asked, but she was smiling.

“Of course.” Ahmann bowed. “As soon as you agree to my proposal.”

“You may be waiting a long time for that,” Leesha said. “You are here to sign something greater than a marriage contract.”

Jardir felt Inevera bristle at the words.

“Only if we agree on the final—”

“Peace, jiwah,” Jardir said. “There will be no further negotiations. My gift to bless this day.”

“You give away too much,” Inevera hissed, too low for the Hollowers to hear.

“I must agree with the Damajah,” Abban said.

“I made a promise to the Par’chin,” Jardir said loudly. “Let it be kept, and without delay.”

The ceremony was short. Leesha’s minister produced five copies of the newly penned Pact of the Free Cities, formally calling an end to the Daylight War. The signatories recognized one another’s sovereignty, including the newly independent duchy of the Hollow and the restored duchy of Lakton. Everam’s Bountry was ceded as Krasian lands, but with new laws governing trade and the treatment of chin.

There were pledges of unity against the demons, but it seemed a distant thing, now. The few demons that remained were leaderless, pushed farther and farther from their territories by the growing greatwards.

When copies were all signed and witnessed, General Cutter approached, slapping Jardir on the back in that overly familiar way the greenlanders had. Jardir’s bodyguards stiffened, but he gave them no signal to interfere.

“Men are all goin’ to the parlor for a drink and a smoke,” Gared said, “you and Abban want to join.”

Jardir’s eyes flicked to Inevera.

“Go, husband.” The whispered words were carried to his earring alone, but he could see the quirk of a smile behind her translucent veil. “I will not kill the daughter of Erny before your return.”

Abban, watching the exchange, caught Jardir’s subtle nod and turned to Gared to facilitate. “Of course, son of Steave. We would be honored. Please, lead the way.”

The greenlanders were informal; men of various station mingled amid the haze of pipe smoke in the parlor. But even among the chin true royalty stood apart. Dukes Ragen and Isan were an island amid the crowd.

Isan drifted a step back at their approach, but Ragen returned the gesture when Jardir reached out to clasp wrists in the Northern fashion.

“It is an honor, Duke Ragen,” Jardir said. “The Par’chin spoke to me of you many times. If you carry a fraction of the honor he lauds upon you, your place in Heaven is assured.”

“The honor is mine.” Ragen’s aura was wary, but mention of the Par’chin helped put him at ease.

Gared gave a signal, and a tray of Nothern ale was brought over. “Thought we’d have a toast to Mr. Bales.”

Jardir held up a hand. “Forgive me, son of Steave, but the Evejah forbids…”

“Nie’s black heart, Ahmann!” Abban cried, startling everyone—Jardir most of all. Abban had never dared speak to him so in front of others.

“You are Shar’Dama Ka.” Abban’s tone was the kind reserved for a child. “You can edit the Evejah with a word. If a fraction of the honor you laud upon the Par’chin is truth, then this once you can honor the customs of his people and drink a toast in his name.”

Jardir blinked, speechless as Abban reached into his vest, producing a small clay bottle and a handful of tiny porcelain cups. “And I have brought just the thing.”

Ragen’s eyes glittered. “Can’t remember the last time I had couzi.”

“Horrible stuff.” Gared seemed eager nonetheless.

Abban passed out the cups, filling them from the small bottle. “The Par’chin visited my pavilion often, and we would drink three times before conducting business.”

Jardir said nothing as Abban filled his cup. The last time he drank couzi had not gone well for him. That, more than Evejan law, had stayed him all these years.

Abban raised his cup. “To the son of Jeph, a hard negotiatior who never once tried to cheat me.”

They all laughed at that, touching cups and drinking in one smooth motion. Jardir grimaced as the liquid burned his tongue and throat like boiling water. Around the circle, other men did the same.

Abban filled the cups again, and Ragen lifted his. “To Arlen Bales, who was as much a son to me as any of blood.”

Again they touched cups and threw them back. There was no burning this time, Jardir’s mouth still numb from the first. He relaxed, and knew his friend had been right. The pact wasn’t the only thing he owed the Par’chin.

Abban filled the cups a third time, and this time Jardir was first to raise his. “To the Deliverer, who sits with honor at the table of Heaven.”

Jardir did not hesitate as the other men gaped, clicking the nearest cup and tossing back his third cup of couzi.

This time, it tasted like cinnamon.

Safely ensconced in the women’s wing, Leesha reached eagerly for the child. Olive seldom suckled anymore, eating solids as voraciously as she had her mother’s milk. She was little more than a year old now, Darin barely ten months, but already the two of them and young Kaji were chasing each other around the room.

But Rojer’s son Arick, not yet six months old, was still hungry for the teat. Leesha sobbed as he latched on to her, looking down at her friend’s face in perfect miniature. Arick’s skin was darker than his father’s, but the shock of red hair atop his head was unmistakable. His eyes closed contentedly as he sucked.

Amanvah handed her daughter Rojvah to Inevera and produced a tear bottle, gently scraping the wetness from Leesha’s cheek. “You honor my husband with your milk, mistress.”

Leesha shook her head. “The honor is mine.”

“Sikvah would have been proud to see this moment,” Amanvah said. “Perhaps from Heaven she can.”

“It must have been difficult, nursing two,” Leesha said.

“At first,” Amanvah agreed, “but Ashia helped.”

“It was the least I could do for my spear sister’s child,” Ashia said.

Leesha bent to kiss the top of Arick’s head. “You will grow up strong, nursed by a Damaji’ting and the Sharum’ting Ka.”

“Not to mention the Duchess of the Hollow,” Elona said, rocking young Selen, who had only just drifted off to sleep.

Inevera watched the others with a hawkish eye, but then Araine whispered something to her, and the Damajah’s laugh was deep and genuine.

“Nice, seein’ the kids all together like—!” Renna left the sentence unfinished, crossing the room in an instant to catch a vase the children knocked from a side table. “Ay, you scamps! Settle down!”

“Sorry, Auntie Ren!” Olive called, but then Darin poked at Kaji and he shrieked, setting all three off running again.

“Swear to the Creator,” Renna muttered as she returned to the couches, “that boy’s more likely to give me a heart attack than his da.”

“Of course, none of that wildness comes from his mum,” Leesha noted.

Renna winked at her. “Course not.”

“Kaji is no innocent,” Ashia said. “No crib can hold him now. The boy climbs like a Watcher, sneaking off in the middle of the night to find Briar.”

“Olive just breaks the slats now,” Leesha said. “Not fifteen months, and strong as a mule.”

“If she is anything like her father, she is twice as stubborn,” Inevera said, and Leesha laughed. She and Ahmann’s Jiwah Ka might never be friends, but they were no longer enemies, and that was a start.

“Darin doesn’t even bother breakin’ slats,” Renna said. “Boy’s already mistin’ through ’em at night. Scared half to death he’s going to skate all the way to the desert, or down to the Core to look for his da.”

“He can dissipate?!” Leesha tried to hide her alarm. Renna was right to be worried. She glanced at Olive, praying her daughter never learned the skill.

“Just a little at a time,” Renna said, “like a mouse squeezin’ through a crack. Ent gone all the way to smoke yet, but it’s only a matter o’ time.”

“Night,” Elissa said. “And here I thought Arlen was a handful.”

They all laughed at that, and amid the sounds of babies crying and children scampering about, Leesha found hope for a lasting peace.