It was a challenge Rojer was hungry for. There was power in the Song of Waning. Ancient power.
After each verse, there was a wordless chorus, a call to Heaven beseeching Everam for strength in the night. Amanvah’s and Sikvah’s voices blended into a union that made it nearly impossible to determine where one ended and the other began.
He played the first chorus exactly as the women had first shown him, but before the second verse ended, Rojer began to thread in a new variation, improvised around the original. It was a minor change, but a difficult one for a singer to follow. They did so effortlessly, changing their harmony to follow his playing. On the third chorus, he took them farther still, building the music into something that would stop a coreling in its tracks. Again they followed, as easily as if he led them down a garden path, arm in arm in arm.
The fourth verse spoke of Alagai Ka, the father of demons, who stalked the land when the moon was new. Rojer did not know if such a creature existed, but the demon prince that had tried to kill Leesha and Jardir on new moon a few nights past was terror enough. The music had a frightening tone, and when the next chorus was reached, Rojer turned the music into a piercing, discordant wail that would send even a rock demon fleeing beyond earshot.
And again, Amanvah and Sikvah, without practice, without prompting, followed.
Verse after verse, Rojer tested them, working his fiddle magic – if that was what this was – to its fullest, bathing the great dining hall in his power. They were with him every step of the way, even as he improvised a new closing to wend the music down into silence.
When the last resonance left the wood, Rojer lifted bow from string and opened his eyes. As if coming out of a deep slumber, reality was slow to focus. Everyone at the table, even Jardir and Inevera, sat in stunned silence, watching him. Rojer looked out farther, seeing the dozens of clerics at the table below similarly entranced, as well as the hundreds of Sharum on the floor proper.
Then, as if given a cue, the room burst into a roar of approval. The Sharum shouted and ululated, stomping their feet so hard the floor seemed to shake. The clerics were more controlled, but their applause was thunderous nonetheless. Gared slapped him on the back, nearly knocking the wind from him, and Leesha flashed him a smile that once would have stopped his heart in its tracks. Even Hasik clapped and stomped his feet, staring at his daughter with obvious pride.
Jardir and Inevera did not react, however, and soon all fell silent, eyes upon the Deliverer to see his response. The demon of the desert smiled slowly, and then, to the astonishment of all, bowed deeply to Rojer.
‘Everam speaks to you, son of Jessum,’ he said, and with that, the roars and clapping began anew.
Rojer bowed in return, as deep as the table before him would allow. ‘I wish to marry your daughter and niece, Ahmann asu Hoshkamin am’Jardir am’Kaji.’ Leesha let out a slight gasp, and Elona a satisfied huff.
Jardir nodded, gesturing with his right hand towards Inevera and his left towards Elona. ‘Our women will arrange …’
But Rojer shook his head. ‘I wish to marry them here. Now. There is nothing for the women to negotiate. I have no need or want of groom gifts, nor have I money for dower.’
Jardir steepled his fingers as he regarded Rojer, his face an unreadable mask that would do a master Jongleur proud. He looked as apt to order Hasik to crush him like a bug as to accept the offer. Indeed, his bodyguard had dropped a hand to his spear.
But Rojer had his audience now, and there was no fear in him as he pressed on. ‘But no gold or jewels could ever be worthy of Amanvah and Sikvah in any event. What are such things but baubles to Shar’Dama Ka? Instead, I will translate the Song of Waning into Thesan and play it for my people. If Sharak Ka is coming as you say, all should remember to fear the new moon.’
‘You think I will sell you my daughter for a song?’ Inevera said.
Rojer bowed her way. He knew he should fear her, but the rightness was on him, and he smiled instead. ‘Apologies, Damajah, but that is not yours to decide.’
‘Indeed,’ Jardir said, before Inevera could retort. She gave no outward sign of agitation, but there was a cold calculation in her eyes that frightened more than an outburst.
Rojer turned back to him. ‘You say Everam speaks to me. I cannot say if this is so or not, but if true, He is telling me there was real magic in your court just now. Magic older and deeper than warding. He is telling me that if I pursue that magic with your daughters, we may learn to kill alagai with song alone.’
‘He tells me the same, son of Jessum,’ Jardir said. ‘I accept.’
Hasik gave a whoop of delight that would have sent a chill down Rojer’s spine just a few minutes ago. There was more applause and stomping of feet from below, and congratulations from around the table.
‘You sly son of the Core,’ Gared said, grabbing Rojer’s shoulder in a great paw and giving him a teeth-rattling shake. Even Inevera seemed pleased with the result, though Rojer knew his slight to her would not soon be forgotten. The only sour look was from Elona, no doubt mentally cataloguing all the wealth he had just turned his back on.
But Rojer had no love of wealth save as a means of survival, and he had gold enough for that already from the Painted Man. And even without, his fiddle had never failed in the past to bring him a full belly and a place to lie his head.
Jardir gestured to Amanvah, and she stepped forward, bowing. ‘Rojer, son of Jessum, I offer you myself in marriage in accordance with the instructions of the Evejah, as set down by Kaji, Spear of Everam, who sits at the foot of Everam’s table until he is reborn in the time of Sharak Ka. I pledge, with honesty and in sincerity, to be for you an obedient and faithful wife.’
Jardir turned to him. ‘Repeat my words, son of Jessum: I, Rojer, son of Jessum, swear before Everam, Creator of all that is, and before the Shar’Dama Ka, to take you into my home, and to be a fair and tolerant husband.’
Rojer reached into his shirt, producing his medallion and clutching it in his fist. ‘I, Rojer, son of Jessum, swear before the Creator of all that is, and before the spirits of my parents, to take you into my home, and to be a fair and tolerant husband.’
There were some murmurs of discontent at that. Rojer heard ancient Damaji Aleverak’s voice among them, but Jardir gave no sign that he even noticed the shift, though Rojer was not fool enough to think that the case. ‘Do you accept my daughter as your Jiwah Ka?’
‘I do,’ Rojer said.
The vows were repeated with Sikvah, and Amanvah reached for her, removing her black veil. ‘Welcome, sister-wife, beloved Jiwah Sen,’ she said, tying a veil of white silk in its place.
Hasik rose, spear and shield in hand. For a moment, Rojer was sure the giant dal’Sharum meant to kill him, but instead Hasik clattered his spear against his shield and gave out an ululating cry. Instantly, every warrior in attendance was doing the same, and the hall shook with their cacophony.
‘You could have at least said something if that was your plan, Rojer,’ Leesha said as Abban escorted them to the caravan.
‘I hadn’t decided anything until the song was done,’ Rojer replied, ‘but even if I had, what business is it of yours who I marry? Let us not pretend you would consult me if the positions were reversed.’
Leesha gripped her skirts tightly in her fists. ‘Need I remind you that those young women tried to murder me?’