The Core

‘It is not for me to say,’ Arther said. ‘But this afternoon, after announcing your daughter’s birth, she told me my services were no longer required, and that house staff would be reporting to her directly.’

Leesha groaned. ‘I am going to strangle that woman.’ She looked at Arther. ‘Be assured the Core will freeze before I give my mother dominion over my household. I will make it clear to her before the end of the day.’

‘That is a relief,’ Arther said. ‘But with the dismissal of Gamon and Hayes, I cannot help but wonder if I am next in any event. Do you wish my resignation?’

Leesha considered the man. ‘Is it your wish to remain in my employ, with Thamos dead?’

‘It is, my lady,’ Arther said.

‘Why?’ Leesha asked bluntly. ‘You’ve never approved of my policies, particularly entitlements for refugees.’

Indignation shocked through the man’s aura, but Arther only raised an eyebrow. ‘My approval is irrelevant, my lady. It was my responsibility to keep the prince’s accounts balanced and see his funds spent wisely. I questioned every spending policy proposed by the council because I would have been remiss in my duties not to. Nevertheless, when His Highness made a decision, it was carried out diligently and without delay. You may have every confidence that I will do the same for you, if you will have me.’

There was no lie in his aura, but her question remained unanswered. ‘Why?’ Leesha asked again. ‘I expected you would volunteer your resignation soon after my arrival and return to your family holdings in Angiers.’

An image flashed across Arther’s aura. It was distorted, but Leesha could make out a once great Angierian townhouse, fallen into disrepair. It linked to Arther with shame, and with fierce pride.

‘My family’s holdings were mortgaged to buy my commission in the Wooden Soldiers,’ Arther said. ‘That and a bit of luck saw me squire for young Prince Thamos. My life was his. Gamon is no different.’

Another image. Thamos, Arther, and Gamon, inseparable as brothers.

‘But now the prince is gone.’ Arther gave no outward sign of the pain tearing across his aura. ‘As is the Angiers we left. Euchor’s Mountain Spears occupy the city now, with their flamework weapons. The Wooden Soldiers will soon be relegated to policing the boardwalk, breaking up domestic disturbances and illegal Jongleur shows. There is no longer anything for us there, even if we wished to return.’

Leesha had not considered that. ‘Where would you go, if I asked you to resign?’

‘I remain quartermaster for the Hollow’s Wooden Soldiers, unless you relieve me of that as well,’ Arther said. ‘I would return to the barracks while I sought employment among the barons. Baron Cutter, perhaps.’

‘I am still not certain of your loyalties, Arther. I fear I must be quite blunt,’ she tapped her spectacles, ‘and see the answers in your aura.’

Arther looked at her a long moment, eyes flicking to the lamps and curtained windows, and then to her warded spectacles. His aura was active, but it was too complex for Leesha to read, as if he was still sorting his own feelings about this invasion of privacy.

At last he sniffed, pulling himself up straight. ‘You are forgiven, my lady, for any blunt questions you put to me. As it was my due diligence to question your policies, it is yours to question my loyalty before taking me into your service.’

‘Thank—’ Leesha began.

‘But,’ Arther cut in with a raised hand. ‘If we are to work in good faith, you must agree that you will never again subject me to this …’ he waved a hand at Leesha’s spectacles, ‘… undue scrutiny without just cause and evidence.’

Leesha shook her head. ‘If you feel I have invaded your privacy I apologize, but my spectacles are a part of me now. I won’t take them off every time you enter the room. There are going to be changes in the Hollow, Arther. If anyone in my employ is uncomfortable about ward magic, I will of course provide excellent references and generous severance.’

‘Very well, my lady. I shall inform the staff. As for myself, if you have additional questions regarding my integrity, pray ask and let us have it done.’ Arther’s aura roiled with growing indignation. He considered himself above reproach and was offended by her mistrust.

Leesha knew she must step carefully. She might find Arther loyal, only to drive him away by refusing to give trust in kind.

Leesha crossed her arms. ‘The child is Ahmann Jardir’s.’

Arther’s aura did not change. ‘I am not a fool, my lady. Even if my lord had not informed me months ago, your mother would be shouting it from the turrets if the child belonged to Thamos.’

‘And still, you would remain in my service?’ Leesha asked.

‘Ahmann Jardir is dead,’ Arther said. ‘Whatever might have gone before, I think any ties you had to the Krasians died with him. After the Battle of Docktown, there can be no doubt that the new Krasian leader sees the Hollow as his enemy, and I know you well enough to trust you will not surrender it to him.’

‘Corespawned right,’ Wonda said.

‘My lord is dead as well,’ Arther said, the indignation in his aura gnawed away by a growing emptiness. ‘I know you loved him, and he you. Both of you were … free with your affections before you met. It is not my place to judge.’

‘You sent regular reports to Minister Janson,’ Leesha said.

‘We all did, including His Highness,’ Arther said. ‘Thamos hid nothing from the ivy throne.’

‘Janson is dead now, too,’ Leesha said. ‘And the ledgers of the Hollow are closed. You said yourself, the Angiers we knew is gone. The Hollow must find its own path.’

‘You mean to be Duchess of the Hollow,’ Arther guessed.

‘And if I do?’ Leesha asked. ‘Is your loyalty to me – to the Hollow – or to the ivy throne?’

Arther took a step back, unsheathing the ceremonial fencing spear on his back. Wonda twitched, but Leesha stayed her with a hand as Arther laid the weapon on the floor before the bed and knelt. ‘To you and the Hollow, my lady. I swear it by the Creator, and will swear again in the sun.’

Leesha held out a hand, and Arther took it. ‘And I swear to be worthy of your trust, First Minister.’

Arther kissed her hand. ‘Thank you, my lady.’

He rolled back on his heels, getting smoothly to his feet as he took a writing board from the satchel at his waist. ‘In that case, I’ve received dozens of requests for your calendar already, and there are a number of pressing matters …’

Leesha sighed, but felt much of her stress wash away with it. She glanced at the nursery. ‘You have until Olive begins to cry, Minister.’

Leesha Paper, Mistress of the Hollow

Leesha’s back spasmed as she scrawled the words for what seemed the thousandth time. Thamos’ chair was a great carved monstrosity, chosen more for intimidation than comfort. Magic helped speed her recovery, but she did not want to grow dependent upon it, especially with Olive suckling hungrily a dozen times a day.

She put one hand on the writhing muscles at the small of her back and stretched. She’d been signing since midmorning. Outside the office window, the sky was darkening.

Minister Arther snatched up the paper, laying it atop the completed pile even as he placed another in front of her. ‘Fifty thousand klats for horse barding bearing Baron Cutter’s arms.’ Arther swept the pertinent numbers with the end of his pen before drawing a quick X at the bottom. ‘Sign here.’

Leesha scanned the page. ‘This is ridiculous. I’m not approving that. The baron can spend his own money dressing up his horses. There are hungry mouths to feed.’

‘Your pardon, mistress,’ Arther said, ‘but the order was completed a month ago. The baron has his barding, and the vendor is owed payment.’

‘How did it go through without approval?’ Leesha asked.

‘His Highness left Baron Cutter in charge, and the man would rather box a wood demon than pick up a pen.’ Arther sniffed. ‘Apparently among the Hollowers, spitting on your hand is considered a binding contract.’

‘Most of them can’t read, anyway.’ Leesha gritted her teeth as she bent and signed, then glanced at the tall, unruly stack of papers the baron’s clerk had sent over. ‘Are they all like this?’

‘I’m afraid so,’ Arther said. ‘The people needed a symbol to rally to in the absence of the count and yourself. Especially after Mr and Mrs Bales disappeared. In that, Baron Cutter was a great success. As an administrator, he … left much to be desired.’

Leesha nodded. She could not pretend this was news to her; she had known Gared all her life. The people loved and trusted him. He was one of them – first of the Cutters to answer Arlen Bales’ call to take their axes into the night. He’d put himself between the Hollowers and the demons every night since, and they all knew it. Folk slept better, knowing Gared Cutter was in charge.

But he was much better at spending money than he was at counting it. Leesha could stamp an endless number of klats, but they were only worth as much as the people believed them to be.