Peter Brett – Barren (страница 1)
Harper
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London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins
Copyright © Peter V. Brett 2018
Ward artwork designed by Lauren K. Cannon, copyright © Peter V. Brett
Cover design © HarperCollins
Cover texture © Shutterstock.com
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.
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Source ISBN: 9780008234126
Ebook Edition © July 2018 ISBN: 9780008234133
Version: 2018-10-02
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Map
Chapter 2: The Square Girls’ Club
About the Author
By the Same Author
334 AR Summer
Selia shifted, wrapping her arms tighter around the body next to her. Smooth skin with hard muscle beneath, warm like a crock filled with fresh-baked cookies. She put her nose into the thick braid of hair and inhaled. The scent was euphoric.
Selia’s eyes popped open.
‘Night, girl!’ She gave Lesa a shove to wake her. ‘Fell asleep again!’
Selia glanced at the window, where a faint glow shone through the shutter slats of her house. ‘Nearly sun-up. You’ve got to get—!’
‘Shhhhhh.’ Lesa reached a hand behind her, stroking Selia’s face until her calloused fingers settled gently on Selia’s lips. ‘Mam and Da went up to Jeph Bales’ farm to help prepare. Never know I ent been home.’
Lesa snuggled back into the feathered pillow, quickly falling back to sleep. Selia drew a deep breath and curled around her, attempting the same. Lesa was right.
But Selia had never been good at sleeping when there were problems to worry at. Lesa’s parents might be away, but she was still living under their roof. The young woman had barely twenty summers, while Selia was laying stores against her sixty-ninth winter. Lying with another woman was already enough to ignite town gossip. Taking a lover less than a third her age might see folk strip her of the Speaker’s gavel – if they didn’t just put her out in the night and have done.
Even as Selia squeezed her eyes shut, the sight of Renna Tanner, staked in Town Square for the demons, remained.
But Selia remembered how quickly Jeorje had turned the town against Renna, and he had far more reason to want Selia staked than some barley-headed farm girl.
Selia’s arm, tucked beneath Lesa, grew numb. The woman’s heat had them both sweating, a sticky bond to their skin. Too uncomfortable to sleep, Selia began the slow process of working her arm free without waking her partner.
Already, she was planning the day. Lesa’s family wasn’t the only one to head up to Jeph Bales’ farm. It was new moon, and Jeph had called the town council to meet on his property that night.
It was an unusual request for the council to meet outside Town Square – not to mention at night. But there were rumours about what Jeph was building on his farm, and all wanted to know the truth of it.
Selia didn’t need to guess. Arlen Bales paid his father a visit last moon. She knew this because that same night, Renna Tanner had materialized in Selia’s yard, catching her and Lesa with their skirts up.
The Brook’s prodigal children brought grave warnings. Smart demons. Shape changers. Corelings working in concert, dismantling wards like Baleses reaping a field. Tibbet’s Brook was still coming to grips with fighting even ‘normal’ demons. The battle wards were spreading, but few had tested themselves against the night. Folk weren’t prepared for what was coming.
Selia slipped from the bed, quietly padding to the washbasin. Lesa’s scent clung to her, evidence of their indiscretion. Renna had stayed hidden until Selia sent Lesa away, and offered no judgement over the tea and cookies, but it was a reminder of how careless they had become.
If Selia and Lesa didn’t stop, it was only a matter of time before the town found out. She feared the grey-beards might already be recalling old rumours and making guesses.
Selia splashed her face. The water was cold, shocking away the last vestiges of sleep. She looked at her reflection in the same silvered mirror she’d used for almost seventy years, but the face staring back was only dimly familiar – a faded memory brought back to life.
The deep lines in her face had shallowed to nothing. Her once-white hair was yellow at the roots and growing. That hair was a rarity in the Brook, a gift from her father Edwar, a Milnese Messenger who decided to make Tibbet’s Brook his home.