smiled. ‘Your father was a wise man. We have not been converted by Tenders, or they by us. All of us saw Arlen Bales cast lightning from the sky when Alagai Ka came on Waning. If there remained any doubt, it vanished when Arlen Bales cast Ahmann Jardir down in Domin Sharum. The son of Hoshkamin was a false Deliverer. The son of Jeph is Shar’Dama Ka, and we must be ready for his call.’
Briar grunted, having no real response. He nodded to the rising sun. ‘Why do your men keep their veils up?’
‘Everam commands modesty in His light,’ Jarit said. ‘Arlen Bales showed us that it is when we face Nie that we must bare ourselves and stand proudly against Her.’
‘Don’t let the modesty fool you,’ Stela said as they walked back to the Wardskins’ camp. ‘Pity the corelings when Jarit and her Sharum drop their veils.’
Briar spat. ‘Ent got pity to spare, comes to cories.’
‘Honest word.’ Stela gave his hand another squeeze, sending a thrill through him. ‘Come on. We’ve got work to do, if we’re going to initiate you tonight.’
‘What work?’ Briar asked.
They came up to a blonde girl weaving her long hair. She could not have been much older than Stela. Like the other Wardskins, she was clad in little more than a few scraps of leather, tattoos twining about her limbs and body.
‘This here is Ella Cutter,’ Stela said. The young woman gave Briar an appraising glance but kept her nimble fingers about the braiding. ‘Ella’s our best tattooist.’
Ella smiled. ‘Bath and a shave first. Need a clean canvas.’
Stela waved a hand before her nose. ‘First on my list. Got a cake of soap?’
‘Not sure about this,’ Briar said.
He felt strange after the bath. Stela had found a stiff brush and scrubbed every inch of him while some of the other Wardskins laughed and jeered. His skin tingled, dry and raw in the cold morning air.
Stela ignored the comment. ‘How in the Core do you still smell like hogroot?’
‘Sweat some, you eat enough,’ Briar said. ‘Keeps the cories away, even when someone forces you into the bath.’
Stela laughed at that, giving him a clean robe and bringing him to the tent where Ella knelt by a small fire with her implements. ‘Show Ella your hands.’
‘Not sure about this,’ Briar said again. ‘Said I’d come to camp. Din’t say I’d get inked.’
‘Arlen Bales says yur body is the only weapon yur never without,’ Ella said.
‘Just your hands for now,’ Stela said. ‘Every Wardskin does it. Gives us weapons we can’t ever lose.’
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