The Daylight War. Peter Brett V.

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СКАЧАТЬ tone, but he seemed sincere. ‘Kind of you to have us.’ She drew a holy ward in the air. Arlen simply grunted and gave a nod.

      Hayes’ smile shrank slightly. ‘I must congratulate you on your promising. As you can imagine, it has caused quite a stir among the townsfolk. I would be honoured to perform the ceremony, if you wish.’

      ‘That’s awful kind,’ Arlen said before Renna could respond, his voice carrying as easily as the Tender’s, ‘but I mean Tender Jona to do it on his return.’

      There was another buzz that passed through the bystanders, now a crowd without doubt. Hayes pursed his lips, his mouth becoming a thin line that vanished in his thick beard and moustaches. ‘Close to him, were you?’

      Arlen shrugged. ‘Din’t always agree with him, but Tender Jona done right by the Hollow when the need was great. It’s my hope he’ll return soon.’

      The smile left Hayes’ eyes, and Franq cleared his throat. ‘Perhaps we should adjourn inside, Holiness. The others are already here. They await you in the dining hall.’

      ‘Very well, lead the way,’ Hayes said. Franq bowed and led them inside, closing the great doors firmly behind them and leaving the prying eyes and ears behind.

      From the small narthex beneath the choir loft, Renna could see a nave meant to hold perhaps three hundred souls. The floors were plain stone, worn smooth by the passage of countless feet over the years. The pews were similarly worn, fine wood with concave depressions where the lacquer had been rubbed away by generations of posteriors. The support beams were carved with wards, as were the stained windows, but they were otherwise unadorned. The main altar was similarly plain, though fresh cloth had been thrown over the table and podium, emblazoned with the ivy and crooked staff of the Angierian Tenders. Thick carpeting had been put down beneath.

      ‘You’ll have to excuse the meanness of the accommodations,’ Franq said. ‘Once the expansion is complete, we’ll have a worthy House of the Creator, with proper appointments more fitting for His Holiness to receive in.’

      Renna’s sharp ears picked up the sound of Arlen’s teeth grinding, but he said nothing as Franq led them to a door to the side of the altar that opened to a narrow hall they followed to a small windowless dining chamber. The dining room was much more richly appointed than the rest of the building. The cold stone walls had been covered in heavy woven tapestries, and a heavy table of polished goldwood ran the length of the room, covered in velvet cloth. The table was laid with delicate porcelain plates, silver utensils, and a golden candelabra. A warm fire blazed in the hearth, and more candles burned overhead on a simple wooden chandelier.

      Three men had been sitting at the table, but they rose quickly when the Tender entered.

      ‘You recall Lord Arther, the count’s aide,’ Hayes said, indicating the man. ‘Next to him is Squire Gamon, captain of the count’s guard.’

      Arther was clad in fine leggings and polished boots, wearing a white shirt cuffed with lace and a tabard bearing the count’s insignia, the wooden soldier. Over the back of his chair was slung a harness containing a short polished spear. The weapon was warded, with an elaborate crossguard encrusted with precious stones. It was beautiful and well maintained, but Arther did not have the look of a fighting man to Renna, and she wondered if it had ever tasted coreling ichor.

      Her mouth watered at the thought, and she had to suppress a wave of revulsion. What was she becoming, that such things should stir her appetite?

      Gamon was clad in similarly fine clothes, though his cuffs lacked the lace, and he had the hardness of a warrior about him, with a close-cropped beard that did not grow over the puckered lines of a demon scar. His eyes were fixed on Arlen, sizing him up as if before a brawl, and his spear had a worn look about it. It rested against the wall in easy reach.

      ‘Honoured,’ Arther said as he and the captain bowed. ‘The count sends his regrets, but he was delayed overseeing the construction of his keep.’

      ‘Din’t want to be seen dining with us, he means,’ Arlen murmured.

      ‘And this is the duke’s Herald, Lord Jasin Goldentone, nephew to Lord Janson, first minister of Angiers,’ Hayes said, indicating the third man. ‘Jasin will be heading back to Angiers on the morrow, but we were fortunate that your arrival allowed him to meet you before heading on his way.’

      ‘He’d have waited as long as it took to see us,’ Arlen said, again too low for any but Renna to hear.

      The herald wore a fine fitted jacket and loose silken trousers of emerald green, tucked into high brown boots of kid leather. His half cape was brown, emblazoned with the ivy throne of Angiers. He swept it out with a flourish as he bowed to Renna, and the inside flashed with the bright motley colour she expected from a Jongleur.

      ‘I have never been so far as Tibbet’s Brook,’ he said, kissing her hand, ‘but perhaps I should rectify that, if the women there are as beautiful as you.’

      Renna felt her face colour. ‘That’s enough of that,’ Arlen snapped.

      ‘Indeed,’ Hayes agreed, looking reproachfully at Jasin. ‘Please, be seated.’ He indicated settings for Arlen and Renna. Arther swept smoothly behind her and for a moment she nearly struck him until she realized he was simply pulling out the chair to slide it under her as she sat. The chair was padded with velvet. She had never sat on something so soft.

      Franq clapped his hands, and acolytes appeared with wine bottles. The men – Arlen included – took their napkins off the table with a snap, placing them in their laps. Renna awkwardly did the same.

      ‘We have a wonderful menu tonight,’ Franq said. ‘Roast pheasant stuffed with apricot grain in a wine sauce and suckling pig slow-roasted over applewood with plum jelly.’ He turned to Renna. ‘Do you prefer red or white?’

      ‘Say again?’ Renna said.

      Franq smiled. ‘Wine, child. What kind would you like?’

      ‘There’s more than one kind?’ Renna asked, and she felt her face colour as Jasin, Arther, and Franq laughed. ‘What’d I say?’ she murmured to Arlen under her breath.

      Arlen looked ready to spit fire. ‘Nothing,’ he said, making no effort to keep his voice low. ‘They’re being rude, looking down over their fancy food and drink while folk a mile from here are eating weeds and thanking the Creator they have that much.’

      Franq paled, glancing at the Tender before looking back at Arlen. ‘I meant no offence—’

      Arlen ignored him, looking at Tender Hayes. ‘That what you teach your Children, Holiness? That it’s fair to mock regular folk? ’Cause where we come from, Tenders wear plain robes for a reason.’

      Hayes’ jaw tightened. ‘It most certainly is not.’

      ‘Not how I see it,’ Arlen said. He looked back at Franq. ‘What was it you said about this Holy House? That it was mean? That it was not worthy?’

      Franq had the look of a cornered deer. ‘I only meant that something more grand—’

      ‘You don’t know the meaning of the word,’ Arlen cut him off. ‘This Holy House is a symbol of the Hollowers’ strength. When all else was lost, this building stood strong. We put the wounded here, some in this very room, while their kith and kin stood outside and faced СКАЧАТЬ