Copyright

HarperVoyager

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

77-85 Fulham Palace Road,

Hammersmith, London W6 8JB

www.harpervoyagerbooks.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperVoyager 2014

Copyright © Peter V. Brett 2014

Cover texture © www.Shutterstock.com

Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2014

Map by Andrew Ashton.

Peter V. Brett asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008114701

Ebook Edition © December 2014 ISBN: 9780008114718

Version: 2014-11-11

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Introduction

Map

1. Burning True

2. Briarpatch

3. Ragen

4. Mudboy

5. A Last Run

6. Cories

Ward Grimoire

Introduction

By the Same Author

About the Publisher

Dedication

For Myke and Joshua, who read all the versions.

Introduction

Like the other Demon Cycle novellas, The Great Bazaar and Brayan’s Gold, this story grew out of the main series, a stunted branch that put down roots and flourished when planted on its own.

The first chapter, ‘Burning True’, was originally written as the opening chapter of my third novel, The Daylight War. It quickly became clear that telling Briar’s story fully would require far more space than I had to spare in a series already known for its ever-increasing number of point-of-view characters. The chapter was excised, but I always knew I would come back to it when the time was right.

Some time later, the chapter was published in Shawn Speakman’s charity anthology Unfettered, under the title Mudboy. Still only a piece of Briar’s story, I’m grateful to Subterranean Press for giving me the chance now to finally tell the story in full.

Look for Briar to make appearances in The Skull Throne, the fourth book of the Demon Cycle next year.

Peter V. Brett

July, 2014

www.petervbrett.com

1
Burning True
324 AR Summer

Briar started awake at the clanging.

His mother was banging the porridge pot with her metal ladle, the sound echoing through the house. ‘Out of bed, lazeabouts!’ she cried. ‘First Horn sounded a quarter past and breakfast is hot! Any who ent finished by sunup get an empty belly till luncheon!’

A pillow struck Briar’s head. ‘Open the slats, Briarpatch,’ Hardey mumbled.

‘Why do I always have to do it?’ Briar asked.

Another pillow hit Briar on the opposite side of his head. ‘Cause if there’s a demon there, Hardey and I can run while it eats you!’ Hale snapped. ‘Get goin’!’

The twins always bullied him together … not that it mattered. They had twelve summers, and each of them towered over him like a wood demon.

Briar stumbled out of the bed, rubbing his eyes as he felt his way to the window and turned up the slats. The sky was a reddish purple, giving just enough light for Briar to make out the lurking shapes of demons in the yard. His mother called them cories, but Father called them alagai.

While the twins were still stretching in bed waiting for their eyes to adjust to the light, Briar hurried out of the room to try and be first to the privy curtain. He almost made it, but as usual, his sisters shouldered him out of the way at the last second.

‘Girls first, Briarpatch!’ Sky said. With thirteen summers, she was more menacing than the twins, but even Sunny, ten, could muscle poor Briar about easily.

He decided he could hold his water until after breakfast, and made it first to the table. It was Sixthday. The day Relan had bacon, and each of the children was allowed a slice. Briar inhaled the smell as he listened to the bacon crackle on the skillet. His mother was folding eggs, singing to herself. Dawn was a round woman, with big meaty arms that could wrestle five children at once, or crush them all in an embrace. Her hair was bound in a green kerchief.

Dawn looked up at Briar and smiled. ‘Bit of a chill lingering in the common, Briar. Be a good boy and lay a fire to chase it off, please.’

Briar nodded, heading into the common room of their small cottage and kneeling at the hearth. He reached up the chimney, hand searching for the notched metal bar of the flue. He set it in the open position, and began laying the fire. From the kitchen, he heard his mother singing.

When laying the fire, what do you do?

Open the flue, open the flue!

Then leaves and grass blades and kindle sticks strew

Pile bricks of peat moss, two by two

Bellow the embers till the heat comes through

And watch the fire, burning true.

Briar soon had the fire going, but his brothers and sisters made it to the table by the time he returned, and they gave him no room to sit as they scooped eggs and fried tomatoes with onions onto their plates. A basket of biscuits sat steaming on the table as Dawn cut the rasher of bacon. The smells made Briar’s stomach howl. He tried to reach in to snatch a biscuit, only to have Sunny slap his hand away.

‘Wait your turn, Briarpatch!’

‘You have to be bold,’ said a voice behind him, and Briar turned to see his father. ‘When I was in Sharaj, the boy who was too timid went hungry.’

His father, Relan asu Relan am’Damaj am’Kaji, had been a Sharum warrior once, but had snuck from the Desert Spear in the back of a Messenger’s cart. Now he worked as a refuse collector, but his spear and shield still hung on the wall. His children all took after him, dark-skinned and whip thin.

‘They’re all bigger than me,’ Briar said.

Relan nodded. ‘Yes, but size and strength are not everything, my son.’ He glanced to the front door. ‘The sun will rise soon. Come watch with me.’

Briar hesitated. His father’s attention always seemed to be on his older brothers, and it was wonderful to be noticed, but he remembered the demons he had seen in the yard. A shout from his mother turned both their heads.

‘Don’t you dare take him out there, Relan! He’s only six! Briar, come back to the table.’

Briar moved to comply, but his father put a hand on his shoulder, holding him in place. ‘Six is old enough to be caught by alagai for running when it is best to keep still, beloved,’ Relan said, ‘or for keeping still when it is best to run. We do our children no favours by coddling them.’ He guided Briar onto the porch, closing the door before Dawn could retort.

The sky was a lighter shade of indigo now, dawn only minutes away. Relan lit his pipe, filling the porch with its sweet, familiar scent. Briar inhaled deeply, feeling safer with his father’s smoke around him than he did with the wards.

Briar looked about in wonder. The porch was a familiar place, filled like the rest of their home with mismatched furniture Relan had salvaged from the town dump and carefully mended.

But in the false light before dawn everything looked different – bleak and ominous. Most of the demons had fled the coming sun by now, but one had turned at the creak of the porch door and the light and sound that came from the house. It caught sight of Briar and his father, stalking towards them.

‘Keep behind the paint,’ Relan warned, pointing with his pipe stem to the line of wards on the planks. ‘Even the boldest warrior does not step across the wards lightly.’

The wood demon hissed at them. Briar knew it – the one that rose each night by the old goldwood tree he loved to climb. The demon’s eyes were fixed on Relan, who met its gaze coolly. The demon charged, striking the wardnet with its great branchlike arms. Silver magic spiderwebbed through the air. Briar shrieked and ran for the house.

His father caught his wrist, yanking him painfully to a stop. ‘Running attracts their attention.’ He pulled Briar around to see that, indeed, the demon’s gaze was turned his way. A thin trickle of drool, yellow like sap, ran from the corner of its mouth as it gave a low growl.

Relan squatted and took Briar by the shoulders, looking him in the eyes. ‘You must always respect the alagai, my son, but you should never be ruled by your fear of them.’

He gently pushed the boy back towards the wards. The demon was still there, stalking not ten feet away. It shrieked at him, maw opening to reveal rows of amber teeth and a rough brown tongue.

Briar’s leg began to twitch, and he ground his foot down to try and still it. His bladder felt about to burst. He bit his lip. His brothers and sisters would never tire of teasing if he went back inside with a wet pant leg.

‘Breathe, my son,’ Relan said. ‘Embrace your fear and trust in the wards. Learn their ways, and inevera, you will not die on alagai talons.’

Briar knew he should trust his father, who had stood out in the night with nothing but his shield and spear, but the words did nothing to stop the churning in his stomach, or the need to pee. He crossed his legs to help hold back his water, hoping his father wouldn’t notice. He looked at the horizon, but it was still orange, with no hint of yellow.

Already, he could see his brothers rolling on the floor with laughter as his sisters sang, ‘Pissy pants! Pissy pants! Water in the Briarpatch!’

‘Look to me, and I will teach you a Baiter’s trick,’ Relan said, allowing the boy to step back. His father toed the wards instead, looking the wood demon in the eye and returning its growl.

Relan leaned to the left, and the demon mimicked him. He straightened and leaned to the right, and the wood demon did the same. He began to sway slowly from side to side, and like a reflection in the water, the demon followed, even as Relan took a step to the left, then went back to his original position, then took a step to the right. The next time he took two steps in either direction. Then three. Each time, the demon followed.

His father took four exaggerated steps to the left, then stopped, leaning his body back to the right. Instinctively, the demon began stepping to the right, following the pattern, even as Relan broke it, resuming his steps to the left. He reached the far side of the porch before the demon caught on, letting out a shriek and leaping for him. Again the wards flared, and it was cast back.

Relan turned back to Briar, dropping to one knee to meet the boy’s eyes.

‘The alagai are bigger than you, my son. Stronger, too. But’, he flicked Briar’s forehead with his finger, ‘they are not smarter. The servants of Nie have brains as tiny as a shelled pea, slow to think and easy to dazzle. If you are caught out with one, embrace your fear and sway as I have taught you. When the alagai steps the wrong way, walk – do not run – towards the nearest succour. The smartest demon will take at least six steps before growing wise to the trick.’

‘Then you run,’ Briar guessed.

Relan smiled, shaking his head. ‘Then you keep walking the span of three slow breaths. It will be that long at least before the demon reorientates.’ He smacked Briar’s thigh, making him wince and clutch at his crotch, trying to hold the water in. ‘Then you run. Run as if the house were on fire.’

Briar nodded, grimacing.

‘Three breaths,’ Relan said again. ‘Take them now.’ He sucked in a breath, inviting Briar to follow. He did, filling his lungs, then breathing out with his father. Again Relan drew, and Briar followed.

He knew it was meant to calm him, but the deep breathing only seemed to make the pressure worse. He was sure his father must be able to see it, but Relan gave no sign. ‘Do you know why your mother and I named you Briar?’

Briar shook his head, feeling his face heat with the strain.

‘There was once a boy in Krasia who was abandoned by his parents for being weak and sickly,’ Relan said. ‘He could not keep up with the herds they followed to survive, and his father, who already had many sons, cast him out.’

Tears began to stream down Briar’s cheeks. Would his father cast him out as well, if he wet himself in fear?

‘A pack of nightwolves that had been following the herd were frightened of the family’s spears, but when they caught the boy’s scent, alone and unprotected, they began to stalk him,’ Relan continued. ‘But the boy led them into a briar patch, and when one of the wolves followed him in, it became stuck in the sharp thorns. The boy waited until it was caught fast, then dashed its head in with a stone. When he returned to his father with the wolf’s pelt around his shoulders, his father fell on his knees and begged Everam’s forgiveness for doubting his son.’

Relan squeezed Briar’s shoulders again. ‘Your brothers and sisters may tease you for your name, but wear it proudly. Briar patches thrive in places no other plants can survive, and even the alagai respect their thorns.’

The need to empty his water did not go away, but Briar felt the urgency fade, and he straightened, standing with his father as they watched the sky fill with colour. The remaining demon faded into mist, sinking into the ground before the first sliver of the sun crested the horizon. Relan put his arm around Briar as they watched sunrise shimmer across the surface of the lake. Briar leaned in, enjoying the rare moment alone with his father, without the shoving and teasing of his siblings.

I wish I didn’t have any brothers and sisters, he thought.

Just then, the sunlight struck him.

The others were stacking their dishes, but Dawn had left plates for Briar and Relan. Briar sat alone with his father, and felt very special.

Relan bit into his first strip of bacon and closed his eyes, savouring every chew. ‘The dama used to tell me pig-eaters burned in Nie’s abyss, but by the Creator’s beard, I swear it a fair price.’

Briar mimicked him, biting into his slice and closing his eyes to savour the grease and salt.

‘How come Briarpatch gets to eat after sunup?’ Sky demanded.

‘Yeah!’ the twins echoed at once. If there was one thing they agreed with Sky about, it was bullying Briar.

The smile fell from Relan’s face. ‘Because he eats with me.’ His tone made it clear further questions would be answered with his strap. The old strip of leather hung on the wall by the mantle, a warning all the Damaj children took very seriously. Relan used the strap to whip his mule when it refused a heavy load, but he had not hesitated to take it to Hardey’s backside the time he threw a cat in the lake to see if it could swim. They all remembered their brother’s howls, and lived in terror of that strap.

Relan paid his other children no further mind, taking a second slice of bacon on his fork and laying it on Briar’s plate.

‘Boys, feed the animals and get the dump cart hitched,’ Dawn said, breaking the tension. ‘Girls, get the laundry soaking.’ The children bowed and quickly filed out, leaving Briar alone with his father.

‘When a boy first stands before the alagai in Krasia, he is sent to spend the following day in prayer,’ Relan said. He laughed. ‘Though I admit, when I tried it, I soon grew bored. Still, it is wise to think on the experience. After prayers, you may take the rest of the day to walk in the sun.’

A day to do whatever he wished. Briar knew what to say, though the words seemed insufficient. ‘Yes, Father. Thank you, Father.’

The Damaj family walked single file to the Holy House. Relan was in the lead, followed by Dawn. Hale came next, a quarter-hour older than Hardey. Sky was a year older than them both, but she was a girl and came after, followed by Sunny. When Briar was nine, he would move ahead of his sisters, but that was years away. He always came last, hurrying to keep up with the brutal pace Relan set.

They walked double-time today because of their late start. Briar could see in his siblings’ eyes that they would make him pay for that, and for being excused from chores.

Even with the delay, the Damajes passed through Town Square as many folk were first opening their shutters to greet the morning. The Holy House was nearly empty.

‘Disgusting,’ Relan said, taking in the empty pews. A handful of Boggers, mostly elders, had come to pray, but it was only a fraction of those that came on Seventhday, and even that was not everyone in Bogton.

Briar knew his father’s words before they were said. Relan was apt to rant on this topic for his children’s benefit.

‘It is an insult to Everam, that His children pray but once a week.’ Normally, when Relan invoked insult to the Creator, he was apt to spit, but never in the Holy House. ‘In Krasia, the dama would have the other townsfolk given a taste of the alagai tail. The next dawn, the temple would be full again.’

Aric Bogger, one of the greybeards from Town Square, turned and glared angrily at them. ‘We disgust you so much, mudskin, why don’t you go back to the desert?’

Relan grimaced, shoulders bunching. He claimed to have been no great warrior in Krasia, but in Bogton he was feared by all, and known to beat men for using that word. No one had dared insult his heritage since Masen Bales and his three brothers had called him a desert rat on Winter Solstice. Relan wasn’t even breathing hard by the time all men were on the ground, moaning in submission.

But they were in the Holy House, and the man was an elder. Honour dictated that Relan show Aric deference and respect.

Relan closed his eyes, embracing his anger. His shoulders relaxed. He gave a shallow bow. ‘You do not disgust me, Aric Bogger. You are humble before Everam. I see you here honouring Him every dawn.’

The words were meant to calm the situation, but they seemed to have the opposite effect as Aric thrust his cane down with a thump, surging to his feet.

‘I am humble before the Creator, Relan Damaj.’ Aric shifted his grip on his cane, raising it between them. ‘I spit on your Everam.’

He hawked his throat, and Relan had enough. He closed the distance between them in an instant, his left hand effortlessly twisting the cane from Aric’s grasp as his right darted in like a hummingbird to flick across the greybeard’s throat.

Aric coughed as the phlegm caught in his throat, stumbling back a step before he caught himself on the pews. He didn’t seem hurt, but his face went all red as he hacked and wheezed.

‘I wish no quarrel with you, Aric son of Aric of the Bogger clan of Bogton,’ Relan said, ‘but I will not stand by and let you spit on the floor of the Creator’s house.’

Aric looked as if he might lunge at him, but Relan pointed the cane, checking the move.

‘What’s going on here?!’ Briar turned to see Tender Heath gripping the front of his brown robes as he strode to the scene. Heath was not a threatening man, round-faced and round-bellied. He brewed the town ale, and was more apt to laugh than to scold, tending bar as much as he tended his flock.

But they saw Holy Men differently in Krasia. Relan stiffened, then dipped into a low bow. He gave a hiss, and his family joined him in bowing to the Tender. So much as a wilful eye would get them the strap and worse.

Relan twirled the cane, offering it handle-first for Aric to snatch. The old man looked as if he might strike Relan on his exposed neck, but a stern glance from the Tender checked him.

‘A misunderstanding only, Tender,’ Relan said. ‘I was explaining to the son of Aric that we pray to the same Creator, whether He is called Everam or not.’

Heath crossed his meaty arms. ‘That may be, but the Holy House is a place of peace and succour, Relan. We do not explain things at the end of a cane.’

Relan dropped smoothly to his knees, putting his hands and forehead on the floor in supplication. ‘Of course the Tender is correct. I apologize and will accept penance.’

‘Ay, give it to him, Tender,’ Aric said, as the others in the room watched the scene. ‘Stinking mudskin hit me.’

Heath looked at him. ‘Don’t think I don’t know it was your fool mouth that started it, Aric Bogger. I catch you using the M word or try to spit in the Holy House again, you and yours are going to have empty cups at the next Solstice festival.’

Aric paled. The only thing Boggers loved more than the Creator was Heath’s ale.

Tender Heath gave a sweep of his arm. ‘Now into the pews, the lot of you. Time we started services, and I’m feeling quite a sermon coming.’

‘Mistress Dawn!’ a call came, breaking the silence as they filed from the Holy House. Briar looked up to see Tami Bales running up the road. Tami was only a year older than Briar, but the Damaj children weren’t allowed to play with the Baleses since Tami’s father, Masen, called Relan a desert rat at the Solstice festival. Relan would have broken his arm if the other men hadn’t pulled them apart.

Tami’s dress was splattered with mud and red with blood. Briar knew bloodstains when he saw them. Any Animal Gatherer’s child did. Dawn ran out to meet the girl, and Tami collapsed in her arms, panting for breath. ‘Mistress … y-you have to save …’

‘Who?’ Dawn demanded. ‘Who’s been hurt? Corespawn it, girl, what’s happened?’

‘Corelings,’ Tami gasped.

‘Creator.’ Dawn drew a ward in the air. ‘Whose blood is this?’ She pulled at the still-damp fabric of the girl’s dress.

‘Maybell,’ Tami said.

Dawn’s nose wrinkled. ‘The cow?’

Tami nodded. ‘Stuck her head over the pen, blocking one of the wardposts. Field demon clawed her neck. Pa says she’s gonna get demon fever and went for his axe. Please, you need to come or he’ll put her down.’

Dawn blew out a breath, shaking her head and chuckling. Tami looked ready to cry.

‘I’m sorry, girl,’ Dawn said. ‘Don’t mean to belittle. I know stock feels like part of the family sometimes. You just had me thinking it was one of your brothers or sisters got cored. I’ll do what I can. Run and tell your pa to hold his stroke.’

She looked to Relan and the others. ‘Girls, get home and finish the washing. Boys, help your father haul the collection cart. Briar, I’ll need to brew a sleep draught …’

‘Skyflower and tampweed,’ Briar nodded.

‘Cut generously,’ Dawn said. ‘Takes a lot more to put down a cow than a person. We’ll need hogroot poultices as well.’

Briar nodded. ‘I know what to get.’

‘Meet me in Masen Bales’ yard,’ Dawn said. ‘Quick as you can.’

Briar ran off home, darting through the herb garden like a jackrabbit, then blowing through the kitchen like a breeze, snatching Dawn’s mortar and pestle. He was on his way down the road before his siblings even got home.

He caught up with Dawn just as she was getting to the Bales farm with Tami. Already, he could hear Maybell’s bleats of pain.

Masen Bales came out to meet them. He was carrying an axe. His eyes narrowed at the sight of Briar, and he spat some of the tobacco he was chewing. ‘Thanks for coming, Gatherer. Think you’re wasting a trip, though. Animal ent gonna make it.’

He led the way to the barn. The heifer was lying on the straw floor of her pen, neck wrapped in heavy cloth soaked through with blood. Masen Bales ran his thumb along the edge of his axe. Tami and her siblings crowded around the cow protectively, though none were large enough to stop their father if he decided it was Maybell’s time.

Dawn lifted the cloth to look at the animal’s wounds – three deep grooves in Maybell’s thick neck.

Masen spat again. ‘Meant to put the animal down quick and sell her to the butcher, but the kids begged me to wait till you came.’

‘It’s good you did,’ Dawn said. ‘This ent too bad, if we can stave off the infection.’ She turned to the crowd of children. ‘I’ll need more cloth for bandages, buckets of clean water and a boiling kettle.’ The children looked at her blankly until she clapped her hands, making them all jump. ‘Now!’

As the children ran off, Briar laid out his mother’s tools and began crushing the herbs for the sleeping draught and poultices. Getting the animal to drink was difficult, but soon Maybell was fast asleep, and Dawn cleaned out the wounds and inserted a thin paste of crushed herbs before stitching them closed.

Tami stood next to Briar, horrified. Briar had seen his mother work before, but he knew how scary it must seem. He reached out, taking Tami’s hand, and she looked at him, smiling bravely in thanks as she squeezed tightly.

Masen had been watching Dawn work as well, but he glanced at Tami and did a double take, pointing his axe at Briar. ‘Ay, get your muddy hands off my daughter, you little rat!’

Briar snatched his hand away in an instant. His mother stood, moving calmly between them as she wiped the blood from her hands. ‘Ent going to need that axe any more, Masen, so I’d appreciate you not pointing it at my boy.’

Masen looked at the weapon in surprise, as if he’d forgotten he was holding it. He grunted and dropped the head, leaning it against the fence. ‘Wasn’t going to do anything.’

Dawn pursed her lips. ‘That’ll be twenty shells.’

Masen gaped. ‘Twenty shells?! For stitching a cow?’

‘Ten for the stitching,’ Dawn said, ‘and ten for the sleep draught and hogroot poultices my rat son made.’

‘I won’t pay it,’ Masen said. ‘Neither you nor your mud-skinned husband can make me.’

‘I don’t need Relan for that,’ Dawn said, smiling, ‘though we both know he could make you. No, all I need is to tell Marta Speaker you won’t pay, and Maybell will be grazing in my yard before tomorrow.’

Masen glared. ‘You ent been right in the head since you married that desert rat, Dawn. Already cost all your human custom. Lucky to get animal work these days, but that won’t last when folk hear you’re charging twenty shells for it.’

Briar’s nostrils flared. If Relan was there, he would break Masen’s nose for speaking to his mother so disrespectfully. But Relan wasn’t there, so it was Briar’s responsibility.

His eyes ran over Masen Bales as he recalled the sharusahk lessons he had watched Relan give his brothers. Masen had a weak knee, always complaining about it when the weather was damp. One well-placed kick there …

Without turning, Dawn made her voice a stern murmur only the children could hear. ‘Don’t think your mum don’t know what you’re thinking, Briarpatch. You mind your hands and mouth.’

Briar flushed, putting his hands in his pockets as Dawn crossed her arms and took a step towards Masen. ‘That’s Mistress Dawn to you, Masen Bales, and now it’s twenty-five. Call one more name, I’ll go see Marta right now.’

Masen began muttering curses, but he stomped off to the house, coming back with a worn leather bag. He counted the smooth lacquered shells into Dawn’s hand. ‘Fifteen … sixteen … seventeen. That’s all I got right now, Mistress. You’ll have the rest in a week. Honest word.’

‘I’d better,’ Dawn said. ‘Come along, Briar.’

The two of them walked down the road until they came to the fork, one way leading to their home, the other to the rest of town.

‘You were very brave today, Briar,’ his mother said.

‘Wasn’t right, what he said,’ Briar said.

She waved a hand. ‘Wasn’t talking about that fool-headed Masen Bales. Meant in the yard this morning.’

Briar shook his head. ‘Wasn’t brave. Almost peed my pants I was so scared.’

‘But you didn’t,’ Dawn said. ‘Didn’t scream or run away, didn’t faint. That’s all brave is. When you’re scared, but keep your wits about you. Relan says you held up better than your brothers.’

‘Really?’ Briar asked.

‘Really.’ Dawn narrowed her eyes. ‘You stir trouble by tellin’ ’em I told you that, though, and it’ll be the strap.’

Briar swallowed. ‘I won’t tell anyone.’

Dawn laughed and put her arms around him, squeezing tightly. ‘Know you won’t, poppet. I’m so proud of you. You run off now. Enjoy the sun for a few hours, like your da promised. I’ll see you at supper.’ She smiled and pressed a handful of shells into his hand.

‘In case you want to buy a meat pie and some sugar candy.’

Briar felt a thrill as he made his way into town, running his fingers over the smooth lacquer of the shells. He’d never had money of his own before, and had to suppress a whoop of glee.

He went to the butcher shop, where Mrs Butcher sold hot meat pies, and laid a shell on the counter.

Mrs Butcher looked at him suspiciously. ‘Where’d you get that shell, Mudboy? You steal it?’

Briar shook his head. ‘Mother gave it to me for helping her save Tami Bales’ cow.’

Mrs Butcher grunted and took the shell, handing him a steaming pie in return.

He went next to the sugarmaker, who fixed a glare on Briar the moment he came into the shop. His look did not soften until Briar produced a pair of shells to pay for the candies he collected from the display, all wrapped in twisted corn husks. These he stuffed in his pockets, eating the meat pie as he walked back out of town. The sun was bright on his shoulders, and it felt warm and safe. The memory of the wood demon snarling at him seemed a distant thing.

He walked down to the lake and watched the fishing boats for a time. It was a clear day, and he could just make out Lakton in the distance, the great city floating far out on the lake. He followed the shoreline, skipping stones across the water.

He stopped short, spotting a pair of webbed tracks in the mud left by a bank demon. He imagined the frog-like creature leaping onto the shore and catching him with its long sticky tongue. The tracks made him shiver, and suddenly he had to pee desperately. He barely lowered his pants in time, thankful there was no one to see.

‘Brave,’ he muttered to himself, knowing the lie for what it was.

Late in the afternoon, Briar hid behind the house and pulled out one of the sugar candies. He unwrapped the treasure and chewed slowly, savouring every bite as his father did with bacon.

‘Ay, Briarpatch!’ a voice called. Briar looked up to see Hardey and Hale approaching.

‘Where’d you get that candy?’ Hale called, balling a fist.

‘We get to haul trash all day, and he gets extra bacon and candy?’ Hardey asked.

‘Don’t think that’s right, do you?’ Hale said.

Briar knew this game. All the boys in Bogton knew to step lightly when the twins started asking each other questions.

His mind ran through all the things he might say, but he knew none of them would make any difference. His brothers were going to knock him down and take the candy, promising worse if he told their parents.

He ran. Over the woodpiles, quick as a hare, and then cut through the laundry lines as his brothers charged after him. Sunny and Sky were collecting the clean wash in baskets, and he barely missed running into them.

‘Ay, watch it, Briarpatch!’ Sky shouted.

‘Stop him, he’s got candy!’ he heard Hardey cry. Briar dodged around a hanging sheet and kept low as he doubled back around the house, running into the bog out back.

He could hear the others close behind, but the trees were thick before the ground became too damp, giving cover as he made for the goldwood tree where the wood demon rose. Briar had climbed the goldwood a hundred times and, knew every knot and branch. He swung up into its boughs like he was a wood demon himself, then froze and held his breath. The others ran by, and Briar counted fifty breaths before he dared move.

There was a small hollow where the branches met. Briar packed the candy in dry leaves and left it hidden there, praying to the Creator it would not rain. Then he dropped back to the ground and ran home.

At supper, his brothers and sisters watched him like a cat watches a mouse. Briar kept close to his mother until bedtime.

No sooner had the door to the tiny room the three boys shared closed, than the twins pinned him on the floor of their room, digging through his pockets and searching his bed.

‘Where’d you hide them, Briarpatch?’ Hardey demanded, sitting hard on his stomach, knocking the breath out of him.

‘It was just the one, and I ate it!’ Briar struggled, but he was wise enough not to raise his voice. A shout might get his brothers the strap, but it would go worse for him.

Eventually the boys gave up, giving him a last shake and going to bed. ‘This ent over, Briarpatch,’ Hardey said. ‘Catch you with it later, you’ll be eating dirt.’

They were soon asleep, but Briar’s heart was still thumping, and out in the yard demons shrieked as they tested the wards. Briar couldn’t sleep through the sound, flinching at every cry and flash of magic. Hale kicked him under the covers. ‘Quit squirming, Briarpatch, or I’ll lock you out on the porch for the night.’

Briar shuddered, and again felt an overwhelming urge to empty his bladder. He got out of bed and stumbled into the hall to find the privy. It was pitch black in the house, but that had never bothered Briar before. He had blindly fumbled his way to the curtain countless times.

But it was different tonight. There was a demon in the house. Briar couldn’t say how he knew, but he sensed it lurking in the darkness, waiting for its chance to pounce.

Briar could feel his heart pounding like a festival drum and began to sweat, though the night was cool. It was suddenly hard for him to breathe, as if Hardey were still sitting on his chest. There was a rustling sound ahead, and Briar yelped, literally jumping. He looked around and it seemed he could make out a dim shape moving in the darkness.

Terrified, he turned and ran for the common room. The fire had burned down, but a few pumps of the bellows had an open flame, and Briar fed it carefully with bricks of peat from the pile until it filled the room with light. Shadows fled, and with them the hiding places of the demons.

The room was empty.

Baby Briar, scared of nothing, his brothers and sisters liked to sing. Briar hated himself, but his leg would not stop shaking. He couldn’t go back to bed. He would piss on the covers and the twins would kill him. He couldn’t go down the hall to the privy in the dark. The very thought terrified him. He could sleep here, by the fire, or …

Briar slipped across the common to the door of his parents’ room.

Never open the door if the bed is creaking, his mother had said, but Briar listened closely, and the bed was quiet. He turned the latch and slipped quietly inside, closing the door behind him. He crawled up the centre of the bed, nestling himself between his parents. His mother put her arms about him, and Briar fell deep asleep.

It was still dark when he awoke to screaming. His parents started upright, taking poor Briar with them. All of them took a reflexive breath, and started to cough and choke.

There was smoke everywhere. His parents were both touching him, but he couldn’t see them at all. Everything was a grey blur even worse than darkness.

‘Down!’ his mother croaked, pulling Briar with her as she slid off the bed. ‘Smoke rises! The air will be better by the floorboards.’ There was a thump as his father rolled out of bed on the far side, crawling over to them.

‘Take Briar out the window,’ Relan said, coughing into his hand. ‘I’ll get the others and follow.’

‘Into the night?!’ Dawn asked.

‘We cannot stay here, beloved,’ Relan said. ‘The wardposts in the herb garden are strong. It’s only twenty yards from the house. You can make it if you are quick.’

Dawn grabbed Briar’s hand, squeezing so hard the boy whimpered. ‘Wet the towel by the washbasin and put it over your mouth to hold out the smoke.’

Relan nodded and put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Be careful. The smoke will draw many alagai.’ He kissed her. ‘Go.’

Dawn began crawling for the window, dragging Briar after her. ‘Take three deep breaths, Briar, and then hold the last. Keep it held until we’re out the window, and as soon as we hit the ground, run for the garden. You understand?’

‘Yes,’ Briar said, and then coughed for what seemed forever. At last the wracking ceased, and he nodded to his mother. On the third breath, they stood and Dawn threw open the shutters. She lifted Briar in her arms, swung her legs over the sill, and dropped to the ground with a thump.

As Relan had warned, there were demons in the yard, flitting about through the drifting smoke. Together, they ran for the garden before the corelings caught sight of them.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.