“Take this and go play a bit while I speak with your lovely mother,” he said.
Rojer squealed in delight, taking the toy and running off to plop down on the wooden floor, striking the strips in different patterns, delighting in the clear sounds each made.
Kally laughed at the sight. “He’s going to be a Jongleur one day,” she said.
“Not a lot of custom?” Arrick asked, sweeping his hand over the empty tables in the common room.
“Oh, it was crowded enough at lunchtime,” Kally said, “but this time of year, we don’t get many boarders apart from the occasional Messenger.”
“It must get lonely, tending an empty inn,” Arrick said.
“Sometimes,” Kally said, “but I’ve Rojer to keep me busy. He’s a handful even when it’s quiet, and a terror during caravan season, when the drivers get drunk and sing till all hours, keeping him up with their racket.”
“I imagine it must be hard for you to sleep through that, too,” Arrick said.
“It’s hard for me,” Kally admitted. “But Jessum can sleep through anything.”
“Is that so?” Arrick asked, sliding his hand over hers. Her eyes widened and she stopped breathing, but she didn’t pull away.
The front door slammed open. “Wards are patched!” Jessum called. Kally gasped, snatching her hand away from Arrick’s so quickly she spilled his ale across the bar. She grabbed a rag to soak it up.
“Just a patch job?” she asked doubtfully, her eyes down to hide the flush in her cheeks.
“Not by a spear’s throw,” Geral said. “Honestly, you’re lucky they lasted as long as they did. I patched the worst of them, and I’ll have a talk with Piter in the morning. I’ll see him replace every ward on this inn before sunset if I have to hold him at spearpoint.”
“Thank you, Geral,” Kally said, casting Jessum a withering look.
“I’m still mucking the barn,” Jessum said, “so I staked the horses out in the yard in Geral’s portable circle.”
“That’s fine,” Kally said. “Wash up, all of you. Supper will be ready soon.”
“Delicious,” Arrick proclaimed, drinking copious amounts of ale with his supper. Kally had roasted an herb-crusted shank of lamb, serving the finest cut to the duke’s herald.
“I don’t suppose you have a sister as beautiful as yourself?” Arrick asked between mouthfuls. “His Grace is in the market for a new bride.”
“I thought the duke already had a wife,” Kally said, blushing as she leaned to fill his mug.
“He does,” Geral grunted. “His fourth.”
Arrick snorted. “No more fertile than the others, I’m afraid, if the talk around the palace holds true. Rhinebeck will keep seeking wives until one gives him a son.”
“You might have the right of that,” Geral admitted.
“How many times will the Tenders let him stand and promise the Creator ‘forever’?” Jessum asked.
“As many as he needs,” Arrick assured. “Lord Janson keeps the Holy Men in check.”
Geral spat. “It’s not right, men of the Creator having to debase themselves for that …”
Arrick held up a warning finger. “They say even the trees have ears for those who speak out against the first minister.”
Geral scowled, but he held his tongue.
“Well, he’s not likely to find a bride in Riverbridge,” Jessum said. “There ent even women enough for those of us here. I had to go all the way to Cricket Run to find Kally.”
“You’re Angierian, my dear?” Arrick asked.
“Born, yes,” Kally said, “but the Tender had me swear an oath to Miln at the wedding. All Bridgefolk are required to swear to Euchor.”
“For now,” Arrick said.
“So it’s true, what they say,” Jessum said. “Rhinebeck is coming to lay claim to Riverbridge.”
“Nothing so dramatic,” Arrick said. “His Grace simply feels that with half your people of Angierian stock and your bridge built and maintained from Angierian timber, that we should all have a …” He eyed Kally as she sat back down. “… closer relationship.”
“I doubt Euchor will be quick to share Riverbridge,” Jessum said. “The Dividing has separated their lands for a thousand years. He’ll no sooner yield that border than his own throne.”
Arrick shrugged and smiled again. “That is a matter for dukes and ministers,” he said, raising his mug. “Small folk such as us need not concern ourselves over such things.”
The sun soon set, and outside there were sharp, crackling retorts, punctuated by flashes of light that leaked through the shutters as wards flared. Rojer hated those harsh sounds, and the shrieks that came with them. He sat on the floor, striking his noisemaker harder and harder, trying to drown them out.
“Corelings’re hungry tonight,” his father mused.
“It’s upsetting Rojer,” Kally said, rising from her seat to go to him.
“Not to fear,” Arrick said, wiping his mouth. He went to his multicolored bag, pulling out a slim fiddle case. “We’ll drive those demons off.”
He put bow to string, and immediately filled the room with music. Rojer laughed and clapped, his fear vanished. His mother clapped with him, and they found a rhythm to complement Arrick’s tune. Even Geral and Jessum began to clap along.
“Dance with me, Rojer!” Kally laughed, taking his hand and pulling him to his feet.
Rojer tried to keep up as she stepped to the beat, but he stumbled and she swept him up in her arms, kissing him as she spun around the room. Rojer laughed in delight.
There was a sudden crash. Arrick’s bow slipped from the strings as everyone turned to see the heavy wooden door shak ing in its frame. Dust, knocked loose by the impact, drifted lazily to the floor.
Geral was the first to react, the big man moving with surprising speed for the spear and shield he had left by the door. For a long moment, the others stared at him, uncomprehending. There was another crash, and thick black talons burst through the wood. Kally shrieked.
Jessum leapt to the fireplace, snatching up a heavy iron poker. “Get Rojer to the bolt-hole in the kitchen!” he cried, his words punctuated by a roar from beyond the door.
Geral had snatched up his spear by then, and threw his shield to Arrick. “Get Kally and the boy out!” he cried as the door splintered and a seven-foot rock demon burst through. Geral and Jessum turned to meet it. The creature threw back its head and shrieked as small nimble flame demons darted into the room around and between its thick legs.
Arrick caught the shield, but when Kally ran to his protection, Rojer clutched in her arms, he shoved her aside, snatching up his multicolored bag and sprinting to the kitchen.
“Kally!” Jessum cried as she struck the floor, twisting to shield her son from the impact.
“Damn you to the Core, Arrick!” Geral cursed the Jongleur. “May all your dreams turn to dust!” The rock demon struck him a backhand blow, launching him across the room.
A flame demon leapt at her as Kally struggled to her feet, but Jessum struck it hard with the poker, knocking it aside. It coughed fire as it landed, setting the floor alight.