The Demon Cycle Series Books 1 and 2: The Painted Man, The Desert Spear. Peter V. Brett

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      Leesha sat wrapped in one of Bruna’s shawls, staring at the steam rising off tea she had no desire to drink. The wood demon’s cries had gone on a long time before reducing to a whimper and fading away. She imagined the smouldering ruin in the yard, and thought she might retch.

      Bruna sat nearby in her rocking chair, humming softly as she deftly worked a pair of knitting needles. Leesha could not understand her calm. She felt she might never be calm again.

      The old Herb Gatherer had examined her wordlessly, grunting occasionally as she salved and bandaged Leesha’s wounds, few of which, it was clear, had come from her flight. She had also shown Leesha how to wad and insert clean cloth to stem the flow of blood between her legs, and warned her to change it frequently.

      But now Bruna sat back as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, the clicks of her knitting and the crackle of the fire the only sounds in the room.

      ‘What did you do to that demon?’ Leesha asked, when she could stand it no longer.

      ‘Liquid demonfire,’ Bruna said. ‘Difficult to make. Very dangerous. But it’s the only thing I know that can stop a wood demon. Woodies are immune to normal flames, but liquid demonfire burns as hot as firespit.’

      ‘I didn’t know anything could kill a demon,’ Leesha said.

      ‘I told you before, girl, that Herb Gatherers guard the science of the old world,’ Bruna said. She grunted and spat on the floor. ‘A scant few of us, anyway. I may be the last to know that infernal recipe.’

      ‘Why not share it?’ Leesha said. ‘We could be free of the demons forever.’

      Bruna cackled. ‘Free?’ she asked. ‘Free to burn the village to the ground, perhaps. Free to set the woods on fire. No heat known can do more than tickle a flame demon, or give a rock demon pause. No fire can burn higher than a wind demon can soar, or set a lake or pond alight to reach a water demon.’

      ‘But still,’ Leesha pressed, ‘what you did tonight shows how useful it could be. You saved my life.’

      Bruna nodded. ‘We keep the knowledge of the old world for the day it will be needed again, but that knowledge comes with a great responsibility. If the histories of the ancient wars of man tell us anything, it’s that men cannot be trusted with the secrets of fire.

      ‘That’s why Herb Gatherers are always women,’ she went on. ‘Men cannot hold such power without using it. I’ll sell thundersticks and festival crackers to Smitt, dearly, but I won’t tell him how they’re made.’

      ‘Darsy’s a woman,’ Leesha said, ‘but you never taught her, either.’

      Bruna snorted. ‘Even if that cow was smart enough to mix the chemics without setting herself on fire, she’s practically a man in her thinking. I’d no sooner teach her to brew demonfire or flame powder than I would Steave.’

      ‘They’re going to come looking for me tomorrow,’ Leesha said.

      Bruna pointed at Leesha’s cooling tea. ‘Drink,’ she ordered. ‘We’ll deal with tomorrow when it comes.’

      Leesha did as she was told, noting the sour taste of tampweed and the bitterness of skyflower as a wave of dizziness washed over her. Distantly, she was aware of dropping her cup.