Copyright
HarperVoyager
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London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2018
Copyright © Peter V. Brett 2018
Ward artwork designed by Lauren K. Cannon, copyright © Peter V. Brett
Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2018
Cover texture © Shutterstock.com
Peter V. Brett asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authors imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008234126
Ebook Edition © July 2018 ISBN: 9780008234133
Version: 2018-10-02
Dedication
For John Brett Jr. 197097 It gets easier, but it never gets easy.
Know Messengers are in short supply, Leesha. Rennas voice was unusually timid. But if you could spare one for Tibbets Brook
We sent one immediately after the attack, Leesha said.But Tibbets Brook is a long journey, even on warded horseshoes.
Renna grunted. Even on a straight round trip, it will be new moon again by the time you get an answer.
Again the dice clattered.
Inevera breathed. I see a village entire, dancing like puppets to a demons strings. I see brother killing sister, father killing son.
I see an empty cradle.
Map
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prophecy
Map
Chapter 1: Greatward
Chapter 2: The Square Girls Club
Chapter 3: The Hive
Chapter 4: Far as We Need
Chapter 5: The Vote
About the Author
By the Same Author
About the Publisher
1
Greatward
334 AR Summer
Selia shifted, wrapping her arms tighter around the body next to her. Smooth skin with hard muscle beneath, warm like a crock filled with fresh-baked cookies. She put her nose into the thick braid of hair and inhaled. The scent was euphoric.
Selias eyes popped open.
Night, girl! She gave Lesa a shove to wake her. Fell asleep again!
Selia glanced at the window, where a faint glow shone through the shutter slats of her house. Nearly sun-up. Youve got to get!
Shhhhhh. Lesa reached a hand behind her, stroking Selias face until her calloused fingers settled gently on Selias lips. Mam and Da went up to Jeph Bales farm to help prepare. Never know I ent been home.
Lesa snuggled back into the feathered pillow, quickly falling back to sleep. Selia drew a deep breath and curled around her, attempting the same. Lesa was right.
But Selia had never been good at sleeping when there were problems to worry at. Lesas parents might be away, but she was still living under their roof. The young woman had barely twenty summers, while Selia was laying stores against her sixty-ninth winter. Lying with another woman was already enough to ignite town gossip. Taking a lover less than a third her age might see folk strip her of the Speakers gavel if they didnt just put her out in the night and have done.
Even as Selia squeezed her eyes shut, the sight of Renna Tanner, staked in Town Square for the demons, remained.
No. We dont do that any more.
But Selia remembered how quickly Jeorje had turned the town against Renna, and he had far more reason to want Selia staked than some barley-headed farm girl.
Selias arm, tucked beneath Lesa, grew numb. The womans heat had them both sweating, a sticky bond to their skin. Too uncomfortable to sleep, Selia began the slow process of working her arm free without waking her partner.
Already, she was planning the day. Lesas family wasnt the only one to head up to Jeph Bales farm. It was new moon, and Jeph had called the town council to meet on his property that night.
It was an unusual request for the council to meet outside Town Square not to mention at night. But there were rumours about what Jeph was building on his farm, and all wanted to know the truth of it.
Selia didnt need to guess. Arlen Bales paid his father a visit last moon. She knew this because that same night, Renna Tanner had materialized in Selias yard, catching her and Lesa with their skirts up.
The Brooks prodigal children brought grave warnings. Smart demons. Shape changers. Corelings working in concert, dismantling wards like Baleses reaping a field. Tibbets Brook was still coming to grips with fighting even normal demons. The battle wards were spreading, but few had tested themselves against the night. Folk werent prepared for what was coming.
Selia slipped from the bed, quietly padding to the washbasin. Lesas scent clung to her, evidence of their indiscretion. Renna had stayed hidden until Selia sent Lesa away, and offered no judgement over the tea and cookies, but it was a reminder of how careless they had become.
Folk used to call you Barren, Renna told her, but tonights got me wonderin they got it wrong.
If Selia and Lesa didnt stop, it was only a matter of time before the town found out. She feared the grey-beards might already be recalling old rumours and making guesses.
Selia splashed her face. The water was cold, shocking away the last vestiges of sleep. She looked at her reflection in the same silvered mirror shed used for almost seventy years, but the face staring back was only dimly familiar a faded memory brought back to life.
The deep lines in her face had shallowed to nothing. Her once-white hair was yellow at the roots and growing. That hair was a rarity in the Brook, a gift from her father Edwar, a Milnese Messenger who decided to make Tibbets Brook his home.
Selia looked at her hands. The once-translucent skin was now thick and tough, spots of age melting away into sun-browned flesh.
She straightened, but there wasnt so much as a twinge as her back aligned. No ache in her shoulders and knees. No sparks of pain as her knuckles flexed.
Next to the basin, within easy reach, was the spear Arlen Bales had given her. She brushed her fingertips over the delicate wards carved into its length, shivering in remembrance of the rush of magic that travelled up its shaft when she struck her first demon with it. The power was wild intoxicating. In its grip she moved with strength and speed that were inhuman, fighting with animal passion.
The feeling of invincibility faded soon afterwards, but a bit of the strength lingered. She woke the next day feeling stronger than she had in years.
Selia had killed many demons since, leading the Town Square militia to victory after victory. Corelings were slowly being cleansed from every yard and field in the Brook.
The rush of magic was addictive, as many folk were learning. Even Selia was caught in its grip. It did more than strengthen the body; it heightened passion as well.
She drew her hand back from the weapon as if it had suddenly grown hot, and looked back at Lesa, snoring contentedly.
Any fool whod seen a Jongleurs show knew magic came with a price.
Out of bed, lazy girl. Selia gave Lesa a shove. Tea is hot and there will be the Core to pay if you let it get cold.
Lesa flung back the covers, shameless as she slipped out of bed and bent to pick up her trousers. She glanced up, smiling as she caught Selia staring.
Selia snatched the blouse from her bedpost and threw it at the girl, but she was smiling too. Get dressed while I take the butter cookies from the oven.
Lesa entered the kitchen soon after. Even with her back turned, Selia could tell the young woman was reaching for the batter-covered spoon resting in the mixing bowl. Without looking up, Selia snatched the spoon and used it to swat the back of Lesas hand.
Ow! Lesa snatched her hand away.
Licking the spoons a reward, not a privilege. Selia laid a plate of cookies on the windowsill to cool. Set the table and pour the tea. Yesterdays batch is in the crock.
Lesa held up a fist, turning it to show the batter splashed across the back. Then she deliberately licked it clean.
Selia raised the spoon threateningly, and Lesa laughed, darting to the cookie crock on the table. Forget sometimes, youre still Old Lady Barren.
Selia raised a brow. That what children call me now?
Lesa coloured. Dint mean
Selia waved the apology away. What will your young friends say, when they learn youve been sleeping in Old Lady Barrens bed?
Lesa winked. Ent done much sleeping.
Know what I mean, Selia said.
You say when like its written somewhere folk are gonna find out, Lesa said.
Live to be an old lady, youll learn folk find everything out eventually.
Lesa threw up her hands. So what if they do? Youre Speaker for the Brook, and every night you go out and kill corelings to keep folk safe. Town couldnt do without you. And I done everything my parents ever asked, and got demon scars to show what Ive given this town. Who cares, folk find out were square girls?
Selia winced at the term. Where did you hear that? Do you even know what it means?
Lesa shrugged. Everyone knows. Means girls who kiss girls.
Selia bit her tongue. Schoolyard talks changed since I was teaching.
Lesa blinked. You were schoolmam?
No. Selia shook her head. That was Lory, my mother.
Lesa splashed tea as she dunked a cookie, cramming it into her mouth before it had time to soften. Crumbs sprayed as she spoke. Want to hear all about her.
Selia swatted the air with the wooden spoon. Ent story time. Suns coming up. Finish your tea and head out the back before someone sees you. Take Dyers Way.
Lesa wrinkled her nose. The alley behind Dyers shop where Jan kept his chemical vats stank, discouraging casual traffic. The perfect path for one wishing to be unseen.
Dont want to go, Lesa said. Just tell folk I came at dawn to escort you.
Since when do I need an escort to walk down the street to Town Square? Selia gave Lesa the look. Her wrinkles might have smoothed away, but her grey hair still carried weight in the Brook.
Ay, Speaker. Lesa wiped her mouth and left without another word.
Youll pay for that later. Selia let out a breath of relief when the door closed behind the girl. Another moment successfully stolen. How many more would they have?
Her appetite lost, Selia set the cookies aside and took out her writing kit, continuing a series of letters to kin in Fort Miln. There hadnt been a Messenger for over a year, but sooner or later one would come, and her father taught her better than to be unprepared.
After an hour she packed the fresh cookies and went to the stable where Butter, her spirited gelding, waited. Her fathers old Messenger armour was stowed in the saddlebags she slung from Butters back. The Smiths removed some plates and shifted others, hammering until it all fit her, but the smell of oil, steel, and old sweaty leather still reminded Selia of Edwar. There was comfort knowing the same metal that succoured her father on his journeys now protected her.
His shield was goldwood covered in a layer of fine Milnese steel, defensive wards still strong after decades of use and fifty years above the mantel. Only his spear hung there now, the fine weapon no match for the one Arlen Bales gifted her.
Selia led her horse down the road to Town Square. She was thankful for her discretion when she saw Tender Harral, Meada Boggin and Coline Trigg already waiting in the square with the militias. It would not have done for so many to see her arrive with Lesa.