The demon circled the town, noting the terrain around the twists and turns of the ward. A strong defense with few weaknesses, and those not easily exploited. Drones drifted out of the trees, drawn to the coreling prince’s presence, but a thought drove them off.

It found a place where two human females stood at the edge of the ward, armed with primitive weapons. The demon listened carefully to their grunts and yelps, waiting for a particular intonation that signaled address. It came soon, and the females clutched each other before dividing to walk the edge in different directions, their weapons at the ready.

The mind demon ran ahead of the elder of the two, waiting in an isolated spot until the woman reappeared. It signaled the mimic, and its servant swelled, scales melting away to be replaced by pink skin and the outer wrappings of the surface stock.

The mimic fell to the ground in the shadows just outside the forbidding as the elder female approached. It cried the elder female’s name, its voice as perfect a copy of the younger female as its form. “Mala!”

“Wonda?” its chosen victim cried. She looked about frantically, but seeing no demons, she ran to what she assumed was her friend. “I just left you! How did you get out here?”

The mind demon stepped from behind a tree, and the female gasped, raising her bow. The nodules on the coreling prince’s cranium throbbed softly, and the female stiffened, hands lowering her weapon against her will. The mind demon approached, and the female held out the projectile she had meant to launch for its inspection.

The wards on the projectile were powerfully shaped; the mind demon could feel them tugging at its own potent magic. It waved a taloned hand at them, marveling at how they began to glow even with its flesh still inches away.

The demon prince probed the mind of its victim deeply, sifting through images and memories as one might rummage in an old trunk. It learned much; too much to act upon without further consideration.

It was hours before dawn, but already the sky was brightening. Far to the south, it sensed its brother’s agreement. There was time to reflect upon the problem.

The mind demon regarded the female. It could steal the memory of this event from her—send her back into the forbidding never knowing what had happened—but the touch of the human’s mind, fat and largely unused, aroused its hunger.

Sensing its master’s desire, the mimic sent a sharp tentacle to sever the female’s head. It caught the prize and slithered over, peeling the skull open with a talon to present the meal.

The coreling prince tore at the sweet gray matter within, gorging itself. The meat was not as tender as the ignorant brains of its personal stock, but there was a satisfaction to hunting on the surface that added pleasure to the repast.

The demon looked to its mimic, standing vigilant as the coreling prince feasted. A throb of permission, and the mimic swelled, opening an enormous, many-toothed maw and slithering over to the female, swallowing the remainder of her body whole.

When master and servant alike were sated, they dissolved into mist, slipping back down to the Core as the sky continued to brighten.

CHAPTER 13

RENNA

RENNA’S STRONG ARMS BURNED, coated in a thin sheen of sweat as she worked the butter churn. It was early spring, but she was clad only in her shift. Her father would have a fit if he saw her, but he was around back cutting wardposts, and Lucik and the boys were out in the fields.

The farm had grown in the fourteen years since Lucik came to live with them, marrying Beni and putting children in her. There had been a hard season after Ilain ran off with Jeph Bales. Harl had raged and taken it out on them—mostly on Beni, since she was elder. But that had all stopped when Lucik, with his thick arms and broad shoulders, came to live with them. Harl hadn’t touched either of them since, and the fields, once little more than a large garden, had gotten bigger every year.

Thinking of that time made her think again of Arlen Bales, and what might have been. When they were promised, it was agreed that she was to be the one to go and live on Jeph’s farm, not Ilain. But Arlen had run off into the woods after his mother passed, and was never heard from again. Folk said he must be dead, especially after Jeph went to Sunny Pasture to search and hadn’t found him. The Free Cities were weeks away on foot, and no one could survive that many nights without succor.

But Renna had never given up hope. Her eyes were always searching the road east, praying that one day he would come and take her away.

She looked up just then and saw a horseman coming down the road. Her heart stopped for a moment, but the rider came from the west, and after a moment, she recognized him.

Cobie Fisher sat tall on Pinecone, one of Old Hog’s dappled mares, his patchwork armor and hammered cookpot helmet polished carefully. His spear and shield were strapped to the saddle in easy reach, though she had never heard tell of him using them.

Cobie fancied himself a Messenger, but he didn’t brave the night like real Messengers; he simply ferried goods and word from one end of the Brook to another for Rusco Hog, who ran the general store. Once or twice, Cobie had slept in their barn on his way north to Sunny Pasture.

“Ay, Renna!” Cobie called, lifting a hand in greeting. She wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand and straightened as he approached.

Cobie’s eyes bulged suddenly, and he blushed. Renna remembered then that she was only half dressed. Her shift ended above her knees, and swooped low in front, showing a fair bit of cleavage. She smirked, amused at his embarrassment.

“Off to Sunny Pasture again?” she asked, making no effort to cover herself.

Cobie shook his head. “I’ve a message for Lucik.”

“So late in the day?” Renna asked. “What could be so…” She caught a look in Cobie’s eye, and began to worry. The last time someone had come with a message for Lucik, barely two years past, it was that his brother Kenner had gotten drunk testing ale from the vats and stumbled out beyond the wards. By the time the sun banished the demons, there was barely anything left of him to burn.

“Everyone’s alright, ent they?” she asked, dreading the answer.

Cobie shook his head. He bent in close, lowering his voice though no one was around. “Lucik’s da passed this morning,” he confided.

Renna gasped, putting her hands to her mouth. Fernan Boggin had always been kind to her when he came to see his grandchildren. She would miss him. And poor Lucik…

“Renna!” came her father’s bark. “Get inside and cover yourself, girl! This ent no Angierian house of sin!” He pointed to the door with his prized hunting knife. The blade was Milnese steel, with a bone handle, and was never far from his hands.

Renna knew that tone, and left Cobie with his mouth open as she turned and hurried inside. She stopped at the door to watch Harl stride out to meet Cobie, who was tying Pinecone to the hitching post.

Her father was wrinkled and gray, but he seemed to only toughen with age, his wiry muscles hard from working the fields and his skin leathern and rough. Harl had wanted to find Renna a husband before Ilain left, but since, he had scared off any boy who even looked her way.

Cobie was taller than Harl, though, and wider, one of the biggest men in Tibbet’s Brook. Hog had chosen him as his messenger because he had more than a little bully in him still and didn’t scare easily, especially with his armor on. Renna couldn’t hear what they said, but her father’s rumbling tone was respectful as they clasped wrists.

“What’s the commotion?” Beni asked from the fire where she was chopping vegetables into the stew.