The Core

Briar couldn’t deny he liked the sound of that. He didn’t resist as Ella reached out to him. Her hands were soft as they took his, turning them over to inspect the palms.

‘Blackstem first,’ Ella said, taking a brush and inkpot. ‘Hold still.’ With a quick, bold hand, she drew an impact ward on his right palm, and a pressure ward on his left.

‘Offence and defence,’ Stela said. ‘The first tools of gaisahk.’ The word was Krasian, meaning ‘demon fighting,’ but Briar had never heard it before.

Ella finished her work, glancing at Stela. ‘What do you think?’

‘Perfect!’ Stela said. ‘Do it.’

Ella put a small table between them. ‘Arm here.’ The table had straps on it, and when Ella reached for them, he snatched his hand away. The last time he saw a table like that, it was an instrument of torture.

Stela steadied him. ‘Just to keep you from flinching. Even the best of us do sometimes. I’m right here, Briar. Ent gonna let anyone hurt you.’

Briar met her eyes and took a deep breath, putting his arm on the table, palm up. Stela pulled the straps tight as Ella took up what looked at first like a small brush. It wasn’t until she began passing it through the fire that he saw the bristles were needles.

‘What do you think?’ Ella asked, wiping the blood from his left hand. His right was already poulticed and wrapped in a bandage.

Briar flexed his hand, watching the ward conform. He straightened the palm and curled his fingers and thumb in tight around it in the proper form his father had taught for an open-hand sharusahk blow.

‘Beautiful,’ he said. A weapon he could never lose, a part of him, even more than his hogroot sweat. The thought made him hopeful in a way he had never known. As Ella wrapped his hand he looked down at her long legs, covered in wards, and envied her their protection and power.

Stela gave him a smack on the back of the head. ‘Ay, that’s enough of that. Go have a bite and a rest while I talk with Ella a spell.’

Briar nodded, leaving the tent. The sun was high in the sky, and most of the people in camp were asleep in the shade. Still, enough moved about that he felt crowded. He needed time to himself.

He circled behind the tent before anyone noticed him, meaning to make his way out of the Painted Children’s camp and back into Gatherers’ Wood.

‘Honest word?’ Ella’s voice was clear even through the tent wall. ‘Ya stuck that filthy little bugger?’

‘Didn’t just stick him,’ Stela said. ‘Took his first seed.’

‘No!’ Ella squealed. ‘Ya sure?’

Stela laughed. ‘Didn’t have a clue what he was doing.’ Briar felt his face heat at the words. Her laughter, so beautiful a moment ago, cut at him.

‘Bad, then,’ Ella guessed.

‘Didn’t say that,’ Stela said, and Briar perked up. ‘Little stinker made it up in enthusiasm. Popped quick the first time, but I wasn’t far behind. Then it was popping all over.’

Briar smiled from ear to ear.

‘Do all Krasian men have small cocks?’ Stela asked, freezing the grin on his face.

‘Not ones I been with,’ Ella said. ‘Not as big as Cutters, but bigger’n most.’

‘Briar’s half Laktonian,’ Stela said. ‘Maybe that’s why.’

‘How small are we talking?’ Ella asked. Stela must have shown with her hands, because her squeals of laughter followed Briar as he fled the camp.

Briar cleared the few possessions from his hideaway, returning to the hollow he dug beneath the goldwood tree, far from the Painted Children’s hunting grounds. He didn’t know how to feel about Stela any more, but he knew he would never be able to sleep with the Pack nearby.

His thoughts were still in chaos when he made his way to Mistress Leesha’s keep. There were guards on patrol, but they never saw Briar slip over the wall and through the courtyard, scaling a shadowed wall of the manse.

His bandaged hands were a hindrance in the climb, both for the loss of grip and for the reminder of all that had transpired in the past day. For better or worse, a simple scouting mission had changed his life forever.

He ran across the roof, crouched too low for any to see, until he came to the spot above the mistress’ office window and clambered down to the sill.

Careful not to be seen, Briar checked the hall window first. Two of Wonda’s guardswomen stood at the chamber doors, attention outward. He moved to Leesha’s office window.

The mistress was on the office divan, Olive in her arms. Her back was to the window, and Briar could not see or hear anyone else in the room. He reached out to knock.

‘Come in, Briar.’ Leesha spoke before he could make a sound. ‘Close the window quick. Cold as a demon’s heart out there.’

Briar slid a wire between the panes, tripping the lock. Warmth from the roaring fire engulfed him as he slipped inside and shut the pane. Cold seldom bothered him, but few things did. He adjusted easily to the heat, stepping carefully to avoid leaving dirt on the warded floor.

The mistress’ dress was unlaced, the babe latched at one breast. A day ago, Briar would have thought little of it, but now he felt himself flush, casting his eyes down.

‘No need to look away,’ Leesha said. ‘Nothing to be ashamed of, using them for the purpose the Creator meant for them. Folk are going to have to get used to the sight.’

She gestured to the laden tea table. ‘Help yourself to tea and a bite.’

Briar’s mouth watered when he saw the sandwiches on the table. Not the delicate crustless fingers Duchess Araine served, these were thick brown bread with generous cuts of meat. He stuck one in his mouth, holding it while he took a handful of dried hogroot leaves from his pocket, crumbling them into a cup and pouring hot tea over it.

Briar glanced warily at the empty couch across from the mistress. He was freshly bathed but still felt too dirty to sit on such fine material.

‘Sit, Briar,’ Leesha said. ‘Elissa told me they didn’t want you muddying the furniture in the Monastery of Dawn, but here you are my guest.’

Briar sat stiffly, legs tight together to put the least surface of his backside possible on the couch. He hunched, gnawing on his sandwich while the tea steeped.

Leesha cleared her throat. ‘That doesn’t mean you don’t need a napkin.’

The scolding was one his mother had given a thousand times, and Briar quickly snatched a napkin off the table, laying it across his knees.

‘What happened to your hands? Let me look at them.’ Olive began to thrash and cry as Leesha broke the latch.

Briar raised his hands to forestall her. ‘S’fine. Just scraped. Washed and wrapped.’

He meant to tell her about the tattoos, but when the moment was upon him the lie came easily. He didn’t know himself what the ink meant, and had no desire to share the question before he thought it through.

Leesha looked ready to insist, even as she allowed Olive the nipple once more. ‘You’re not the clumsy type, Briar. What happened?’

‘Found Stela Cutter fighting cories and threw in,’ Briar said, skipping the details. ‘She brought me back to the Children’s camp.’

‘Stela Cutter was out hunting alone?’ Leesha demanded. ‘Does she have a night wish?’

‘Safer’n you think,’ Briar said. ‘She’s strong. Leads the Children.’

‘Stela?’ Leesha gaped. ‘She’s the sunny side of a hundred pounds and eighteen summers old.’