The Daylight War (The Demon Cycle, #3)

by Peter V. Brett

He looked at Amanvah. “What did you mean, ‘As it should be’?” “Eh?” she asked. “Back in the count’s hall,” Rojer said. “When I said I had no patron, and needed none.” Amanvah bowed. “I have cast the bones since our … disagreement, husband. They tell me you must be free of fealty if your power is to remain pure. I apologize for doubting you. Sikvah and I are yours now. Whatever path you take in your battle with the alagai, we will follow. This is why our father wed us to you, and we will no longer forsake you. If you command we strip to our colored silk and sing in the night, we will do this.” “And if I command you sing The Battle of Cutter’s Hollow?” Rojer asked. “We will do as you command, and find ways to make you regret it.” Amanvah winked. “We are your wives, not slaves.”

“We don’t know that she’s any more crazy than he is, Rojer.” Rojer laughed. “Hate to be the Messenger, Leesha, but Arlen is crazy as demonshit. I owe him my life and I won’t forget that, but the man is always turning left when sane folk go right.” “That’s why he’s powerful,” Leesha said. “And the same could be said for you.” Rojer shrugged. “Never met a sane Jongleur, either.”

“Like her,” Renna said as the young woman moved off. Arlen nodded. “I had a hundred Wonda Cutters at my back, I’d storm the Core itself.”

Rojer rolled from his chair into a handspring, somersaulting into a low leg. “Rojer Halfgrip, at your service.” Renna laughed and clapped her hands, suddenly looking like an innocent girl. “Renna Tanner,” she said as he kissed her hand. “Arlen told me all about you.” “Don’t believe a word of it,” Rojer advised with a wink. Renna smiled at him, and Leesha wanted to scream, but she kept a sunny smile on her face. “Come help with the tea, Rojer,” she said. He complied, and as they stood at the counter amid a clatter of cups and saucers, she whispered, “Night, whose side are you on?” “Oh, there are sides now?” Rojer asked sweetly. “I thought it was none of our business.”

“He must have seen your looting the sacred city and the tomb of Kaji as a terrible violation,” Leesha said. Arlen shrugged. “Should I have left the lost magics to sleep under the sand?” “Of course not, but you must understand their perspective,” Leesha said. Arlen looked at her, incredulous. “What I understand is that Jardir stole the greatest weapon in the world from me, and instead of sharing its secrets, he is using it to murder and enslave his way across Thesa.

Renna just spoke, her words low and even. “He said the words of promise to me, Leesha Paper. Did he say them to you?” Leesha gaped. The words were almost identical to those Gared Cutter had said to Messenger Marick, right before they came to blows over Leesha. “N-no,” she stuttered at last. “Then you mind your own business about us.” Renna let go Leesha’s wrist and stepped back. Arlen let go her arm, and she turned on her heel, storming out of the cottage. Leesha rubbed her sore wrist and cast Arlen a withering glance. “Lovely woman you’ve found.” Arlen glared at her, and immediately she regretted the words. She reached out to him, but her hand passed right through as he dissipated into smoke and vanished.

The Hollowers did not have money, but again and again they came forward with things Renna knew were more precious by far. “Stood with your husband …” “… please accept …” “… Mairy Blower …” “… please accept …” “… husband saved my life …” “… my son’s life …” “… every last one of us …” “… please accept …” “… please accept …” “… please accept …” Even with her night strength, it became hard to hold all the baskets and bundles. Before long she felt like a Messenger’s pack mule, and still the folk came on, hundreds in the line. Thousands. Amazingly, it was a Krasian woman who saved her. She appeared from the crowd, covered from head to toe in black cloth in the southern fashion, but her eyes were kind. “What is this?” she said loudly. “A bride should not carry her own gifts on her wedding night!” Around her, everyone froze, and the woman, her tone one of comfortable command, pointed to a few of the women who had already given her gifts. “Find tables to lay them on, that such precious things not touch this ground, hallowed by the blood of your people in alagai’sharak.”

“You all right?” Rojer asked. Leesha shrugged. “He’s made his choice, Rojer. How I feel about it doesn’t really matter. Arlen Bales saved us, and this town, and if this is what he wants, what gives him peace …” Rojer looked at her. “Then we shut up and dance.” Leesha smiled. “Ay.”

Leesha was in no hurry, content with time to sort through her thoughts. Her fingers worked nervously at the flowers as she watched Arlen and Renna. The young woman was smiling broadly, the thanks on her lips and in her eyes sincere as the Hollowers came to pay their respects. You don’t know a corespawned thing about her, Leesha told herself, but even as she did, she knew it for a lie. She did know one thing. Arlen loved her. If she truly cared for him, that should be enough.

“Blessings upon your marriage,” Leesha said, turning to Arlen. He opened his arms, and she fell into them, squeezing him tightly once and then quickly letting go.

Amanvah smiled. “Wedding traditions are not so different among my people.” She looked to Rojer. “Sometimes I lament I will never have such celebration.” Rojer looked at her, seeing sadness in his wife’s eyes. Every Northern girl dreamed of her wedding day, and he realized the Krasians were the same way. He had shoved all tradition aside by marrying them on the spot, and, he suddenly realized, trodden their dreams at the same time. He would have to make it up to them. “You din’t?” Renna asked. “Then share mine and come dance with me.” She took Amanvah’s hand and reached out to Sikvah and Kendall, dragging them all into the dancing area. There was a great cheer, and the Jongleurs struck up another song.

Kaval glowered at the tent, and Rojer feared he would try to torch it. Amanvah caught his stare. “If you cannot be polite, Drillmaster, then make yourself useful. Take your men and kill seven alagai in honor of the union, one for every pillar of Heaven.” Kaval looked frustrated as he bowed. “We do not have our spears, dama’ting.” Amanvah’s eyebrows formed a tight V, and both Rojer and Kaval knew she was losing patience. “For more than three hundred years, Sharum killed alagai without warded spears, Drillmaster. Have the battle wards made you weak? Have you forgotten your skills?” Kaval knelt and pressed his forehead to the cobbles. “Forgive me, dama’ting. It will be done.” He seemed almost relieved as he signaled the other men and they left the Corelings’ Graveyard. Any excuse to kill demons, Rojer thought. “If they’re killin’ seven, then we’re killin’ seventy,” Gared said to Wonda. “Cutters! Get your axes! We’re going to give the Deliverer a wedding present: a demon pyre so big the Creator will see it from Heaven!” Amanvah watched the Cutters muster and head off into the night, and she sighed, taking Rojer’s arm. “Father is right,” she said. “Your people are not so different from ours.”

“You don’t trust me,” Arlen said. “Is there any reason why we should?” Amanvah asked. Arlen concentrated, drawing a touch of magic through the young women, Knowing them. “No, but I trust you, Amanvah vah Ahmann.” He nodded to Sikvah. “You and your sister-wife both. I can see that you are no ally of Nie, and your intentions toward my friend are true.” “Ay?” Rojer asked. “Don’t get too excited,” Arlen told him. “They may follow the letter of your commands, but they won’t hesitate to disobey the spirit if they think it best for you.” Amanvah did not seem perturbed by the comment. “Our honored husband sometimes requires … guidance.” Arlen chuckled. “Fair and true.”

“Jaddah.” Arlen drew the symbol for the first pillar of Heaven in the air. Amanvah looked at him in surprise, but he ignored her, smiling at the warrior. “Jaddah,” the warrior agreed. His eyes flicked to Amanvah, and his fear intensified. “Rise and stand tall,” Arlen said in Krasian. When the man did, Arlen bowed. “Have no fear, brother. Kaval may not see the irony of sending a khaffit to deliver an insult he fears to bring in person, but it is not lost on me. The kha’Sharum bring honor to the dal’Sharum, not the other way around.” The warrior bowed deeply, and the shift in his aura was beautiful to behold, shame becoming pride and fear becoming elation. “Thank you, Par’chin.”

Arlen had lived in the Hollow more than a year now, getting to know the Cutters well as he trained them to defend themselves against demons. He knew how prized the possessions arrayed around the room were. But he had seen, too, the fierce pride in the auras of the givers. The sincere gratitude and love. The … faith. It was the last that struck him the most. These people would do anything he asked of them, not out of worship, but out of trust. He had proven himself to them, fighting by their sides, and they honestly believed he would never let them down. And I won’t, he silently promised. Demons take the Hollow at new moon, it’ll be because I died trying to stop them.

“What I wouldn’t give to be a bee buzzing in the garden right now,” Darsy said. “They got enough people buzzing about them right now, Darsy Cutter,” Wonda said. “Best not be hearing talk about them walking in the garden alone, next time I’m in town.” “You threatening me, girl?” Darsy demanded, her voice rising with her short temper. “Ay,” Wonda replied quietly. “And you’d best take heed.”

“Sorry about how I acted with you,” Arlen said. “Didn’t have a right to get mad like I did.” “You did,” Leesha said. Arlen looked at her in surprise, and she held up her spade, coated with rich, fresh soil that smelled of life. “I’m not apologizing for anything I’ve done, or saying I’d act differently if I had it to do over. But if what you say about Ahmann is true, then you had right to be as mad as the Core. I’m sorry for that. I never meant to hurt you.” “It’s true,” Arlen said. “I know,” Leesha said. “Can’t say I approve of your choices sometimes, but you’re as honest a man as I’ve ever met.” She shrugged. “For what little that’s worth.” “So we’re both sorry, but not sorry,” Arlen said.

Arlen held up a fist, and they fell silent again, though the energy was thick in the air. “Had the honor of standing with a lot of you in this very place, shedding blood and more than our share of coreling ichor right on the cobbles beneath your feet. Lost some good people, and still more came out with wounds they carry to this day. But we gave better’n we got, beat those demons down and watched them burn when the sun rose.” He looked back to the Krasians. “In Krasia, that makes this sacred ground, and it makes us all family.” There were nods and grunts of agreement from the crowd, though none dared speak, hanging on Arlen’s words. “For more than three hundred years, we been waiting for a Deliverer to come and save us from the demons. And while we waited, we forgot that we, each and every one of us, was strong. Strong enough that together, ent nothing can stop us. But the Deliverers of old didn’t do it alone. They get the credit, ay, but they wouldn’t have had a chance without the thousands, nay, millions, of good folk like you at their sides. “So you stand up for you and yours tonight. You stand proud, and come Waxing, when Hollow County’s still standing tall, someone asks who the Deliverer is? You can give honest word when you say ‘Ay, that’s me.’ ”

I’ll do what needs to be done to keep the Hollow safe. Need to know you will, too. Cutters are strong, but with me out of the picture, you’re the strongest one in the Hollow. Without you to shore the line, they may break. No running off on your own tonight. They need you.” “Think I don’t know that?” Renna snapped. “Hollowers been good to me. Good in ways I never knew folk could be. Die before I let ’em down.”

It was only now, having confronted and forgiven her, that he understood how stubborn he had been. Too proud to reach out to someone that needed him until she proved … what? Arlen’s past was hardly without bad decisions, and he had never hesitated to keep his own counsel. What right did he have to judge her for doing the same?

“Tell me what you know,” she said as they went. “Folk say he appeared in the sky,” Wonda said, “hurling fire and lightning like the Creator himself to cover the retreat. But then the greatward dimmed, and he fell.” She choked on the last words, and wiped at her face with an arm. Leesha had never seen the giant young woman cry, and the sight did more to bring home the severity of what had happened than anything she could have said. She picked up her pace, arriving breathless at the crowd that had gathered. “Move aside for Mistress Leesha!” Wonda shouted, but she didn’t wait for folk to comply, grabbing people and shoving them aside to clear the path. In the center of the ring, Renna knelt by Arlen’s twisted body, lying still on the cobbles. Blood was pooling around his head. Gared and several Cutters stood by keeping the onlookers back, and they quickly opened a way to admit Leesha. “Don’t you die on me, Arlen Bales!” Renna shouted at him, clutching one of his hands, but Arlen gave no response. “He’s alive,” Leesha said as she found his pulse, weak and erratic. His skull was bashed in where it had struck the cobbles, and Leesha could feel the fractures spiderwebbing out from the spot. Jagged bones jutted from his skin. He had a broken shoulder and collar, shattered ribs, pelvis … But the bleeding had stopped. “Night,” Leesha breathed. “He’s healing already.”

The Damajah’s pillow chamber had been completely remodeled since Ahmann’s last visit, when he stole inside with Leesha Paper. It had given them both pleasure to mark Inevera’s special place, the lovemaking intense and passionate. If his intent had been to hurt her, it seemed he had succeeded. His Jiwah Ka had never spoken of the incident, but there had been a fire in the room the next day, destroying everything down to the stone walls.

What an asshole

“Not long after sunrise tomorrow, an unexpected Messenger will bring you ill tidings,” Inevera went on. “That happens every day,” Jardir said, hardly caring anymore. Inevera shook her head. “This one has passed through death to see his missive delivered.” That got Jardir’s attention, and he looked up at her as she squinted at the dice. “His message will bring you pain.” He saw no deception in her, but as she spoke the words, her aura pulsed. There was nothing in her expression, no outward sign, but to his eyes it was plain as day. Empathy. Without even knowing the cause, her heart had cried out for him, when she realized he would be hurt. His pain was her pain. He reached out to her, his anger gone, and gently touched her face. She looked at him, and her aura had never shone so bright. Whatever else she might feel, wherever her loyalties might lie, she loved him. Oh, my Jiwah Ka, Jardir thought sadly. How I have wronged you.

“I do not wish to be controlled!” Ashia snapped. “You and my brother may have convinced my father to give me to you, but it was never my desire.” “Am I unworthy?” Asome asked. “The Deliverer’s second son is not enough for you? Perhaps you wish you had been given to Jayan?” “I, too, am blood of the Deliverer,” Ashia said, “and a princess of the Kaji. I do not wish be given to anyone!” Asome shook his head, genuine confusion in his aura. “Have I not been a good husband? Given you everything you desire? Put a child in you?” “You and Asukaji have never cared a whit for my desires,” Ashia said. “You dressed me in silk and bathed me in luxuries, but otherwise haven’t given me a thought, save on our wedding night when Asukaji watched and stroked his cock as you put a child in me, and forty weeks later when the two of you ripped my newborn son from my arms.” “I will give you more children,” Asome said. “Sons. Daughters …” Jardir could see him desperately trying to understand her desires, if only to deter her and save face. “No,” Ashia said. “I am not just a womb to carry your children because Asukaji cannot! You and your pillow friend have the son you wanted. Now I will have my own life.”

You go girl!

“For my part, if you had asked me yesterday, I would have shouted at the thought of women beside me in a spearwall, or trusting one with my back in sharak.” He looked at Shanvah, and his aura filled with love. “But I cannot deny that when I watched those two warriors fight, it was glorious. I can think of none, even Spears of the Deliverer, who could have fought better. When they unveiled and I saw my daughter’s face, it was not shock or anger I felt, it was pride.” Shanvah returned her father’s look. Jardir could see in the emotions connecting them that she barely knew the man—ignored by him in favor of her brothers and taken from his household early to train in the Dama’ting Palace. Until now, she had felt little for Shanjat, but with his words, a thread of love went out to him in return.

“Your Tenders have lied to you!” he shouted, drawing on the power of his crown to spread his voice far into the gloaming. “Since you were infants at your mothers’ breasts, they have told you the alagai are a Plague sent by the Creator to punish the sins of man. They have told you that you deserve this, that you have no choice but to cower and hide and await forgiveness and redemption.” He scanned the men, letting them see his eyes. “But Everam loves His children, and would not curse us so. The alagai are a plague, but it is one sent by Nie, the Enemy, and redemption does not come to men who cower and skulk! It comes to those who take up the fight, struggling against the children of Nie on His Ala even as Everam struggles with Her in the heavens.” A month ago, he might have thought the words pointless with such men, but now he could see into their hearts, and knew they were tired of blaming themselves for the alagai, tired of being told that the homes and loved ones they lost were punishments they had brought upon themselves. They wanted to believe, but his people had broken them as badly as the demons, leaving them dispirited. They would give anything to be as men once more. “You have seen my people fight the alagai,” Jardir said. “You know it can be done. They have training, it is true, but more than that, they have courage. Courage coming not from their spears, but from the knowledge that they fight for more than themselves. They fight for their wives and mothers, their ...

“What is more important to you,” Inevera asked, “winning Sharak Ka, or keeping your wife beneath your sandal? The heroism of your jiwah can boost your power, if you let it. I know you do not feel for her as you do Asukaji, but she is the sister of your lover, the mother of your son, and you made oaths to her before Everam. Those ties bind an honest man as tightly as love.” Asome looked ready to argue the words, but then deflated, considering. Inevera reached out, touching his good arm. “A great man does not fear his wife will steal his glory, Asome. He uses her support to reach even higher.”

He looked out over the fields, seeing dama and Sharum working side by side with the lesser castes. It was an inspiring sight, a taste of the unity Kaji dreamed of, the common cause that would allow mankind to throw back the alagai and win Sharak Ka.

Cielvah

Kasaad looked sadly at his wife and daughter, then shook his head. “I thought there was shame in being khaffit, Deliverer, but in truth I have never been happier, nor seen Everam’s path more clearly. I am crippled and cannot serve you in Sharak Ka, so I beg you let me die as khaffit, that I might strive to be better in my next life.”

“I gave you those warriors to protect your business and facilitate trade, not to assault my warriors,” Jardir said. “And so I have,” Abban said. He turned to Hasik, lifting his crutch to point at the chained man. “That one, frustrated with your decree that I not be harmed, has been taking out his ire in my pavilion. You send him to me frequently as your errand boy, and without fail, he takes the opportunity to steal, or break precious merchandise for the pleasure of it.” “And for this, you sever his cock?!” Jardir demanded. Abban shook his head. “Trinkets and baubles are easily replaced, Deliverer. My daughter’s virginity is not. Nor the honor of my wives.” “The khaffit lies, Deliverer!” Hasik shouted. “I never …!” Jardir gave a curt gesture, and one of the guards tightened his noose, cutting off his words. “I am Shar’Dama Ka, Hasik, and can see your heart. The next lie that escapes your lips will cost you your life, your honor, and your place in Heaven.” Hasik’s eyes widened, and his aura went cold. “Did you rape Abban’s daughter, Hasik?” Jardir asked softly. Hasik was weeping openly now. He did not have the strength to answer, but he nodded. Hanya began sobbing again. Kajivah pulled her daughter in close, catching the tears on her breast while she glared daggers at Hasik. “And his wives?” Jardir asked. Again, a defeated nod. “Nevertheless, this cannot be allowed to stand, Deliverer,” Ashan said. “If khaffit—even kha’Sharum—can kill dal, then all civilization crumbles.” “...

“Every man has the right to stop his daughter’s rape, or avenge it if he can. Even khaffit. Even chin. If Hasik was too weak to defend himself, then he was not worthy of the prize. His cock has gotten him in trouble for the last time. He has sons and daughters to carry on his name, and as the khaffit says, he is still fit for sharak.” He looked to Hasik. “You have paid your due to Abban. The price for striking my sister is divorce, not only from your Jiwah Ka, but your other wives as well. I will not have my sister married to half a man. Hanya will keep her sister-wives, all your property and children.” He could see how he was crushing Hasik’s spirit, but he did not pity the man. He still remembered what Hasik had done to him, all those years ago in the Maze.

“Please don’t do that,” the newcomer warned, pointing at Abban with his spear. His voice was a rasp, but it had a familiar ring to it. “The more people you send running in, the more likely someone will get seriously hurt.” He gave Abban a look so intense the khaffit had to suppress a shudder. “And I assure you, it won’t be me.” Abban swallowed deeply, but he nodded, slowly lifting his hands into the air. “Who are you? What do you want?” “Abban, my true friend,” the man said, dropping the rasp from his voice. “Do you not recognize your favorite fool? This is not the first time you’ve seen me in a Sharum’s blacks.” Abban felt his blood turn to ice. “Par’chin?”

Abban cut him off with a roll of his eyes. “The blood of thousands pools at your feet, Ahmann. Are you truly about to lecture me about drinking couzi like I’m a drunken Sharum in the Maze?” Jardir frowned, but he did not protest further as Abban took a thoughtful pull, his eyes distant. The khaffit looked back at him, holding the bottle out. “Drink with me, Ahmann. Just this once. These are things best discussed with lips of cinnamon.” Jardir shook his head. “Kaji forbids—” Abban threw back his head and laughed. “He forbid it because his men were slaughtered in Rusk by a force they outnumbered five to one after spending the night before celebrating a battle that had not yet been won! It was a decree meant for uneducated sheep with weapons, not two men sharing a cup during the day at the center of their stronghold.” Jardir looked at Abban sadly. He could see in the man’s aura that he not only did not understand, he thought Jardir the fool in this exchange. “This, my friend, is why you are khaffit.” “Why?” Abban asked. “Because I do not treat every single utterance of Kaji as the direct word of Everam? You are Shar’Dama Ka now, Ahmann, and I’ve known you a long time. You are a brilliant man, but you have said and done many a stupid and naïve thing over the years.”

“You lied to me when you said I was the only man with the potential to be the Deliverer. I had thought you hiding an heir, but it was the Par’chin, wasn’t it? Did the dice command I kill him at all, or was that simply you?” She did not need to open her mouth for him to see it was so.

“We should all turn back,” Leesha said. “This whole ritual is barbaric. A bunch of meaningless rules to give the illusion of civility to murder.” “Ent murder when the other man sees it coming and means to kill you, too,” Arlen said. “And the rules have meaning. Seven witnesses, so all those affected by the outcome can see the truth of it. A remote location difficult to stage an ambush. A fight right before dusk, when all men set aside their differences and become brothers, to force peace on the witnesses when it is done.” “None of which makes it civilized,” Leesha said. “Would you rather thousands die on the field?” Arlen asked. “So long as men eat and shit and grow old and die …” “… we will never truly be civilized,” Leesha finished, surprising him. “Don’t quote philosophers at me when you’re about to force your friends and family to watch you two try and kill each other.” “You don’t have to come, either,” Arlen said. “Send Darsy Cutter if you ent got the stomach for it.”

Jardir took Leesha aside. When they were far enough that their voices would not be overheard, he moved to embrace her. “Intended, how I have missed your touch …” Leesha pulled back, stepping to the side and evading his arms. “What is this?” he demanded. “We shared more than a simple embrace the last time we were alone.” Leesha nodded. “But we are not alone, and this is not the time, Ahmann. I won’t have you marking me like a dog. I have already refused your proposal.” Jardir smiled. “Thus far.” “No, not thus far,” Leesha snapped. “I lay with you in the pillows, yes, but I am not your property, and I will never wed you. Not if you divorce all your wives and return to the Desert Spear, nor if you kill all the dukes of the Free Cities and name yourself king of Thesa. Never.”

“This child isn’t yours, Ahmann! I am not yours! We are human beings and do not belong to anyone. This is where you fail time and again, and why my people will never bow willingly to you. You cannot own people.” “You parse words like a khaffit to deny what you know is just,” Jardir said. “Would you deny the child the chance to know its father?” Leesha laughed, the sound harsh and biting. Her aura colored with disdain, and it stung to see it directed at him. “You have over seventy children, Ahmann, and you barter them like casks of ale. How many of them do you truly know?” Jardir hesitated, and Leesha’s aura flushed with victory. She gave him a mocking smile. “Tell me the name days of all of them, and I will be your wife, here and now.” Jardir grit his teeth, flexing his fingers to keep them from curling into a fist.

“No disrespect,” the giant greenlander said as he went about the business. “You have nothing but honor in my eyes, son of Steave,” Jardir replied. His sharp ears caught Shanjat’s words to the son of Jeph. “You should be thankful for the mercy my master showed you, Par’chin.” “And you should be thankful I don’t blame a man’s dogs for who he tells them to bite,” the Par’chin said.

“I have come as you demanded, son of Jeph,” Jardir said. “Speak your accusations for all assembled and almighty Everam, from whom all justice flows, to hear.” “The spear you hold is not yours,” the Par’chin said. “I risked my own life to bring it back to the world, and brought it first to you, my brother in sharak, to share its power. But sharing its secrets was not enough for you. The moment you realized its power was true, you conspired to steal it from me, ambushing me at night on the holy floor of the Maze. Your men beat me, and you took the spear, then cast me into a demon pit to die.” There were murmurs from both sides at this, but Jardir ignored them, letting the Par’chin continue. He had carried these burdens too long in secret. Let us have it out, and have it done. “When I killed the sand demon and climbed from the pit, I told you you would need to kill me yourself,” the Par’chin said. “But you chose instead to knock me out and leave me on the dunes to die. You should have known then this was coming.” Jardir nodded. “You speak truly, Par’chin. I deny none of these actions, but I do deny the crime. One cannot steal one’s own property from the thief that took it.” The Par’chin laughed. “Your property? I found it hundreds of miles from you, in a place no one had been to in three thousand years!” “Kaji was my ancestor,” Jardir said. The son of Jeph snorted. “Your stories are true, he had thousands of children, spread across the land. Got descendants in every sheep-sti...