Leesha nodded her assent, and Thamos turned to Wonda. ‘As for you, Miss Cutter, I have no lands or titles to offer you, no rank or station, but my mother has taken an especial liking to you, and has sent you a gift.’ A servant wheeled in a clothing rack holding dozens of doublets, each emblazoned with Duchess Araine’s seal, a wooden crown set over an embroidery hoop.

‘Women cannot hold rank in the military, but the bow-women of the Hollow are legendary, and Mother wishes to be your patroness.’

The servant selected one of the doublets and approached Wonda. ‘May I?’

Wonda nodded numbly. The man removed her warded cloak, and she bent as he lifted the thick doublet over her head. Wonda stroked it in wonder. She bowed. ‘Ent ever had clothes so fine. Please thank Her Grace.’

Thamos smiled. ‘The doublets are a trifle. You may give them to other women you deem worthy, but Mother was adamant that the first go to you. The crown will also give purse for a team of bowyers, fletchers, and their materials.’ He gestured again, and the guards opened a wall flap, allowing in a middle-aged man, thin, with wiry muscles and a doublet emblazoned with the hammer and chisel of the Artisans’ Guild. He was followed by three young men who carried bundles of oiled cloth they carefully laid on the floor. They unrolled them to reveal fine wooden armour, beautifully warded and shining with enamel just like that worn by the Wooden Soldiers. Wonda gasped.

‘A proper fitting can be arranged later, but indulge us and try the breastplate, at least,’ Thamos said.

Wonda nodded, and the artisan took the piece and began strapping it on. Leesha had half expected it to give her a woman’s shape, implying breasts where there were none to speak of, but the duchess was cannier than that, and the breastplate fit perfectly. She looked magnificent.

‘It’s so light,’ Wonda marvelled.

The artisan nodded, smiling. ‘We had first thought to make you a proper metal mesh, but archers must be quick and agile. Wooden armour will protect you as well as the finest Milnese steel at a fraction the weight.’

Leesha sighed. It was another ploy by the Duchess Mum to leach at her power. Wonda had made her loyalties clear at their tea, and Araine had not been pleased by it. Leesha wanted to tell Wonda to send the armour back with her regrets. The girl would do it in an instant if Leesha told her to, but looking at her face, beaming with happiness as it so seldom did since the demons took her father and left her scarred, Leesha did not have the heart.

Rojer had begun to relax while everyone cooed over Wonda’s new breastplate, but Thamos met his eyes again and he felt his muscles clench right back up.

‘Now,’ Thamos said, rubbing his hands together. ‘I suppose we should see to our guests.’ Arther signalled the door guards, who admitted Amanvah, Enkido, Kaval, and Coliv.

‘Princess Amanvah of Krasia,’ Arther called loudly, his voice easily filling the great hall, ‘His Royal Highness Count Thamos, Prince of Angiers, Marshal of the Wooden Soldiers, and Lord of Hollow County, bids you and your counsellors welcome to his court.’

‘There had best be a good reason why I have been kept waiting,’ Amanvah said, ‘and for the rudeness of your chi’Sharum when we came to your court in peace and goodwill.’ She flicked a derisive finger at Captain Gamon. ‘In Krasia, we have men whipped for showing such poor manners to their betters.’

Rojer sighed. This was not going to go well.

Thamos seemed caught off guard by her aggressive posture. ‘Apologies, Princess, if you were treated rudely upon your arrival.’ He glanced at Gamon. ‘I assure you I will school my man in proper etiquette in the future. As to the delay, surely you cannot begrudge me a brief audience alone with my subjects before receiving you.’

‘Made Gared a general,’ Rojer said, ‘and offered me a commission as his royal herald.’

Amanvah glanced at Rojer and laughed, a sharp bark that echoed in the chamber.

‘This amuses you?’ Thamos asked. His voice was hardening as his patience grew thin.

Amanvah looked back at the count, her eyes narrowing. ‘As if my husband would refuse the patronage of the ruler of all that is and give himself instead to a minor princeling. The very notion is ridiculous.’

‘Minor princeling?’ Thamos asked, his voice a razor.

Amanvah turned to Rojer. ‘Count. This is beneath a duke in your culture?’

‘His Highness is third in line to the ivy throne,’ Rojer supplied.

Amanvah nodded and turned back to Thamos. ‘My father met one of your Northland dukes – Edon the Fourth, of Rizon. When Duke Edon knelt with his head pressed to the floor and tearfully begged for his life, he was made to swear utter fealty to Shar’Dama Ka, and lick the dirt from the sandals of all twelve Damaji. He would have sucked their cocks, if my father had even hinted that it would have pleased him.’

Thamos’ look of impatience turned to one of rage. His face reddened, and Rojer could almost hear the sound of his teeth grinding. His hand gripped his spear so tightly it looked like the shaft would break in half.

‘It doesn’t matter!’ Rojer snapped. ‘I have no patron, and want none! I will write what I want to write and sing what I want to sing, and to the Core with anyone who says otherwise!’

Amanvah nodded. ‘As it should be.’

Rojer looked curiously at the comment, but shrugged it off. ‘And you, wife, will keep a civil tongue behind your veil.’

‘Your husband speaks wisdom,’ Thamos said. ‘Your father will not find Angiers as weak as Rizon. We are ready for him.’

‘The Rizonans were weak once,’ Amanvah said. ‘My father is making them strong. He sees the Hollow is already strong, and offers to make you an independent tribe, autonomous and with your own leaders. In return, he asks only two things.’

‘And what are those?’ Thamos demanded. ‘What is a fair price to buy back what we already have?’

‘First,’ Amanvah said, ‘that you accept that he is Shar’Dama Ka, and follow him when the First War begins.’

‘First War?’ Thamos asked.

Tender Hayes leaned in to him. ‘The Final Battle, Your Highness. When the Deliverer unites mankind and leads us to drive the demons back to the Core.’

Amanvah nodded. ‘It is foretold in your Canon much as in the Evejah, is it not, Tender?’

Tender Hayes nodded. ‘Indeed. But we have seen nothing to hint that your father is the one foretold. The Deliverer may already be among us, or come tomorrow, or a thousand years from now. Nothing in the Canon tells us that he will bring rape, murder, and heathen religion with him.’

‘All wars bring bloodshed and loss,’ Amanvah said. ‘It is the price of unity, and a fair one. But my father is offering you peace, and you would be wise to take it.’

Thamos scowled. ‘And what is the second price of this generous peace?’

Amanvah smiled. ‘That Mistress Paper agree to be his bride, of course.’

There was a rustling from off to the side, and the Painted Man stepped out from behind the heavy tarp that served as a wall. ‘That ent gonna happen.’

Everyone stood shocked. It had only been a few months since Leesha had seen him last, but as Darsy said, Arlen had changed greatly in that time. Gone were his Tender’s robes – he was clad now in simple dungarees and a faded white shirt, unlaced at the front to show part of the great ward tattooed there. His warded feet were bare as he padded on the cold floor.