The Demon Cycle Books 1-3 and Novellas: The Painted Man, The Desert Spear, The Daylight War plus The Great Bazaar and Brayan’s Gold and Messenger’s Legacy. Peter V. BrettЧитать онлайн книгу.
‘It is good that you go,’ Bruna said, when they were alone at last. ‘Cutter’s Hollow holds no more challenges for you, and you’re far too young to stagnate.’
‘If you think that wasn’t a challenge,’ Leesha said, ‘then you weren’t paying attention.’
‘A challenge, perhaps,’ Bruna said, ‘but the outcome was never in doubt. You’ve grown too strong for the likes of Elona.’
Strong, she thought. Is that what I’ve become? It didn’t feel that way most of the time, but it was true, none of the inhabitants of Cutter’s Hollow frightened her anymore.
Leesha gathered her bags, small and seemingly inadequate; a few dresses and books, some money, her herb pouch, a bedroll, and food. She left her pretties, the gifts her father had given her and other possessions near to her heart. Messengers travelled light, and Marick would not take well to having his horse overburdened. Bruna had said Jizell would provide for her during her training, but still, it seemed precious little to start a new life with.
A new life. For all the stress of the idea, it brought excitement, as well. Leesha had read every book in Bruna’s collection, but Jizell had a great many more, and the other Herb Gatherers in Angiers, if they could be persuaded to share, held more still.
But as the hour drew to a close, Leesha felt as if the breath were being squeezed from her. Where was her father? Would he not see her off?
‘It’s nearly time,’ Bruna said. Leesha looked up and realized her eyes were wet.
‘We’d best say our goodbyes,’ Bruna said. ‘Odds are, we’ll never have another chance.’
‘Bruna, what are you saying?’ Leesha asked.
‘Don’t play the fool with me, girl,’ Bruna said. ‘You know what I mean. I’ve lived my share twice over, but I’m not going to last forever.’
‘Bruna,’ Leesha said, ‘I don’t have to go …’
‘Pfagh!’ Bruna said with a wave of her hand. ‘You’ve mastered all I can teach you, girl, so let these years be my last gift to you. Go,’ she prodded, ‘see and learn as much as you can.’
She held out her arms, and Leesha fell into them. ‘Just promise me that you’ll look after my children when I’m gone. They can be stupid and wilful, but there’s good in them, when the night is dark.’
‘I will,’ Leesha promised. ‘And I’ll make you proud.’
‘You could never do otherwise,’ the old woman said.
Leesha sobbed into Bruna’s rough shawl. ‘I’m scared, Bruna,’ she said.
‘You’d be a fool not to be,’ Bruna said, ‘but I’ve seen a good piece of the world myself, and I’ve never seen a thing you couldn’t handle.’
Marick led his horse up the path not long after. The Messenger had a fresh spear in his hand, and his warded shield was slung over the horn of his saddle. If the pummelling he had taken the day before pained him in any way, he gave no sign.
‘Ay, Leesha!’ he called when he saw her. ‘Ready to begin your adventure?’
Adventure. The word cut past sadness and fear, sending a thrill through her.
Marick took Leesha’s bags, slinging them on top of his lean Angierian courser as Leesha turned to Bruna one last time. ‘I’m too old for goodbyes that last half the day,’ Bruna said. ‘Take care of yourself, girl.’
The old woman pressed a pouch into her hands, and Leesha heard the clink of Milnese coin, worth a fortune in Angiers. Bruna turned and went inside before Leesha could protest.
She pocketed the pouch quickly. The sight of metal coin this far from Miln could tempt any man, even a Messenger. They walked on opposite sides of the horse down the path to town, where the main road led on to Angiers. Leesha called to her father as they passed his house, but there was no reply. Elona saw them pass and went inside, slamming the door behind her.
Leesha hung her head. She had been counting on seeing her father one last time. She thought of all the villagers she saw every day, and how she hadn’t had time to part with them all properly. The letters she had left with Bruna seemed woefully inadequate.
As they reached the centre of town, though, Leesha gasped. Her father was waiting there, and behind him, lining the road, was the entire town. They went to her one by one as she passed, some kissing her and others pressing gifts into her hands. ‘Remember us well and return,’ Erny said, and Leesha hugged him tightly, squeezing her eyes shut to ward off tears.
‘The Hollowers love you,’ Marick remarked as they rode through the woods. Cutter’s Hollow was hours behind them, and the day’s shadows were growing long. Leesha sat before him on his courser’s wide saddle, and the beast seemed to bear it and their baggage well.
‘There are times,’ Leesha said, ‘when I even believe it myself.’
‘Why shouldn’t you believe it?’ Marick asked. ‘A beauty like the dawn who can cure all ills? I doubt any could help but love you.’
Leesha laughed. ‘A beauty like the dawn?’ she asked. ‘Find the poor Jongleur you stole that line from and tell him never to use it again.’
Marick laughed, his arms tightening around her. ‘You know,’ he said in her ear, ‘we never discussed my fee for escorting you.’
‘I have money,’ Leesha said, wondering how far her coin would go in Angiers.
‘So do I,’ Marick laughed. ‘I’m not interested in money.’
‘Then what kind of price did you have in mind, Master Marick?’ Leesha asked. ‘Is this another play for a kiss?’
Marick chuckled, his wolf eyes glinting. ‘A kiss was the price to bring you a letter. Bringing you safely to Angiers will be much more … expensive.’ He shifted his hips behind her, and his meaning was clear.
‘Always ahead of yourself,’ Leesha said. ‘You’ll be lucky to get the kiss at this rate.’
‘We’ll see,’ Marick said.
They made camp soon after. Leesha prepared supper while Marick set the wards. When the stew was ready, she crumbled a few extra herbs into Marick’s bowl before handing it to him.
‘Eat quickly,’ Marick said, taking the bowl and shovelling a large spoonful into his mouth. ‘You’ll want to get in the tent before the corelings rise. Seeing them up close can be scary.’
Leesha looked over at the tent Marick had pitched, barely big enough for one.
‘It’s small,’ he winked, ‘but we’ll be able to warm each other in the chill of night.’
‘It’s summer,’ she reminded him.
‘Yet I still feel a cold breeze whenever you speak,’ Marick chuckled. ‘Perhaps we can find a way to melt that. Besides,’ he gestured past the circle, where misty forms of corelings had already begun to rise, ‘it’s not as if you can go far.’
He was stronger than her, and her struggles against him did as little good as her refusals. With the cries of corelings as their backdrop, she suffered his kisses and pawing, hands fumbling and rough. And when his manhood failed him, she comforted him with soothing words, offering remedies of herb and root that only worsened his condition.
Sometimes he grew angry,