When Demons Walk (23 page)

The priest spoke, his voice hoarse, but steady. “We take from you the power given by the death of Our High Priest.”

The golem cried out and the hardened clay that formed the bulk of its body began to break and crumble: Whole sections fell off the wooden skeleton. As the chunks hit the stone floor they crumbled into yellow dust, revealing the golem's internal framework. Crudely shaped sticks were bound together by a thin, tarnished silver wire into a mockery of a human skeleton. Its head was a block of wood with a small yellow stone set where a person's left eye would have been.

Sham watched warily for some new spell, but there was none. The wood began to age, turning first grey, then white. As the fragile substance dried to splinters, the High Priest's
garments floated down to the ground. The yellow gem broke free of the wooden setting and rolled across the smooth floor until it rested several paces away from the pile of cloth.

The priest rested his broom on the floor and looked at the smallish mound that had been the High Priest. Sham worked to untie the knot holding the gag in her mouth. She must have made some noise because Fykall turned to her and, seeing her trouble, proffered her an eating knife from his belt.

As she cautiously slipped the dull blade between the cloth and her cheek, the sound of a group of men moving briskly through the halls penetrated the room. Fykall moved between Sham and the door, standing with his bedraggled broom as if it were a weapon. Another time, Sham was certain she'd have found something funny in that, but after what she'd seen the priest do to the demon's golem, she wouldn't have been surprised to see Fykall eliminate an army with nothing but that broom.

Even so, Sham wasn't unhappy when Talbot burst into the room followed by the Captain of the Guard, a host of Castle guardsmen, and a rather grim-faced Dickon.

When Talbot raised a hand the Captain barked an order and the guardsmen stopped near the entrance. Talbot peered at the two of them warily. It occurred to her that Talbot had no way of knowing if the demon had killed her and replaced her with the golem or not. Since he couldn't know who the demon looked like now, Talbot must be wondering just who it was he was facing.

Fykall took a step forward, but Sham, watching Talbot's hand tighten on his sword, gripped the priest's shoulder. “Gently, Lord Fykall. These men know something of what we faced here—and have no way of knowing that we are who we appear to be.”

Talbot gave her a nod of approval that in no way lessened his alertness and bowed his head quickly toward the priest.

“Why don't ye tell us how ye came to the Temple, Lady Shamera,” directed Talbot finally, for he was a
Southwoodsman, and Sham knew the sight of Altis' power was almost as doubtful to him as magic had been for Dickon. “—and get rid of that knife while ye talk, would ye?”

Sham grinned and threw the knife so it landed point down on one of the dining tables several yards away, remembering too late that that was a skill the Reeve's Mistress would not possess.
Ah well
, she thought,
maybe no one would remark upon it in the midst of such doings
. Most of the guardsmen, Easterners to a man, were staring uncomfortably at the High Priest's clothing on the floor.

“It was sheer stupidity,” Sham admitted, shamefaced. “I've gotten used to being showered with gifts from people who want influence with the Reeve. A messenger brought a ring in a box and insisted I try it on before he left. Someone, probably the demon, spelled the ring so that anyone wearing it would fall asleep. When I awoke, I was here.”

She stood and walked to the robes of the High Priest, searching until she found the star-ruby ring, displaying it briefly and tossing it to Talbot. “I wouldn't try it on. It's never smart to fool with magic you're not familiar with.”

While Talbot looked at the innocent-seeming ring, Sham glanced at the yellow topaz she'd also picked up.

It was the size of a cherry pit, smallish for a topaz. The style of the stone's cut was ancient: it was carved rather than faceted. The elaborate cuts made the stone seem dull and lifeless; a pretty bauble, but worth less than an uncut stone of equal size would be to a gem dealer now. When the light fell properly on the stone, Sham could see that the carving itself was the rune that had animated the golem.

Sham tossed the topaz in the air and whispered a spell of destruction upon it. When it hit the floor it shattered into powder; that stone would never animate another golem. She looked up to see Fykall's solemn regard.

Sham turned to Talbot. “Fykall destroyed the creature that had taken over Brath, then you came in before we had a chance to catch our breath.” She returned her attention to the priest. “Which reminds me that I haven't thanked you yet for your timely intervention.”

The small man shook his head, “As Altis's servant, I could do no less.”

She hesitated visibly, for the words stuck in her throat—but she remembered the feeling of the strength that had boosted her spell to destroy the demon's bonds. “My thanks, then, to Altis.”

Fykall smiled gently. “Praised be His name.”

“Would you be interested in dealing with the demon who controlled the golem's actions?” asked Sham. She'd recently discovered how useful Altis could be, as little as she liked Him.

The priest swayed slightly, as if he were listening to someone no one else heard. He smiled and shook his head. “I wish that I could, but there are other forces in this world besides Altis and they all obey certain rules. When the demon attempted to use Altis's temple for its misdeeds, it allowed Altis the freedom to destroy its servant. If Altis were to move against it elsewhere, the path would be open for an equally strong move by a force for evil. I only wish I could be of more service,” then he smiled with real humor, “if only to have the Reeve further in my debt.”

Sham grinned back, turning to Talbot. “Well, Talbot, I suppose you have a choice. Either one of us is the demon and the other the golem. Or it's just the priest and I.”

The Captain reached under his tunic and pulled a chain over his head. At the end of the chain dangled the silver form of Altis' cat, green eyes and all.

“I'm not certain I've followed what's going on,” the Captain said, “but if we need to be certain Brother Fykall is who he appears to be, this should work.” He handed it to Fykall, saying, “Blessed be the name of Altis.”

“Bless those who carry the symbol of His service,” returned the priest.

As he spoke the cat's emerald eyes began to glow until they lit the room with a pale green light. When Fykall returned the necklace to Lirn, the glow dissipated.

“Sir,” said Lirn to Talbot, “this is proof enough for me.”

Talbot nodded his head, though he didn't look entirely happy.

“And for me,” agreed Dickon, but he sounded almost as wary as Sham felt at proof of Altis's presence in the room. “We should get back to the Castle. My Lord was tearing the building apart looking for you in case the Captain was mistaken.”

“Mistaken?” questioned Sham, looking at Lirn.

He shrugged. “I noticed one of the templemen leaving with one body more than they should have taken. I brought it to the Reeve's attention when we discovered that you were missing, Lady. Lord Kerim thought it would be most expedient to send us here while he organized a discreet search of the Castle.”

“You'd best go then, before he works himself into a frenzy,” said Fykall.

Sham started through the door after the men, but the priest touched her shoulder to hold her back.

“Lady Shamera, Altis asks that you be very careful not to use his altars for your vengeance. He will not be as lenient in the future as he has been in the past.”

Sham nodded her head slowly. “Altis's priest, Brath, caused a friend of mine to be crippled. I exacted payment from those who helped the High Priest do that.” She paused, choosing her words so they would sound suitably formal. “By your actions this day, I live. The debt is cancelled and I will not deface his altars again.”

Dickon came back through the door. “Are you coming, Lady Shamera?”

She turned impulsively and kissed the priest's cheek before gathering her skirts and pacing decorously forward to take Dickon's arm.

 

“S
O THE DEMON
has lost its golem?” Asked Kerim.

Upon their arrival at the Castle, Kerim had summoned Sham, Dickon, and Talbot to the meeting room that adjoined his bedchamber for a “discussion.” Sham told him what she remembered about the kidnapping. Unlike Talbot,
who still gazed warily at her, Kerim had accepted the Captain's proof without question.

Sham ran her hands through her hair in frustration. “As long as that was the only golem it had, yes.”

“What are the chances there are more of them?” asked Talbot.

“That golem was old; it was probably made when the demon was summoned.” She shrugged. “The only topaz I've seen carved like that was in a necklace reputed to be over eight hundred years old. The demon could animate the golem, and work magic through it without risking the loss of its own body. Finding a proper host for the demon is a great deal more difficult than building golems, for the host must be mage-born. A golem such as the one the priest destroyed—” tides take her if she'd give all the credit to Altis, “—requires both power and time to create.”

“So we need to find the demon quickly, before it builds another one,” concluded Kerim. “The time has come for speculation. Do you have any guesses who the demon is?”

Sham rubbed her eyes tiredly. “Someone with an odd background—no acquaintances left from his childhood.”

“That would be helpful, except there was a war here. There are a fair number of people whose families were killed,” commented Talbot. “I, for one. My parents died in the first month of fighting and my three sisters disappeared into the streets. My brother was lost at sea when I was five or six. I can't name a single soul who knew me before I was a man.”

“Shamera, can the demon change its appearance?” asked Talbot.

“I don't think so. Maur's book says the demon's host won't age after the demon has taken possession of it. If it could alter the appearance of its host, I think the book would have mentioned that too.”

“Can you think of anything else that would help us find it?” questioned Kerim.

She started to shake her head when something occurred to her. “It could be a servant. No one would think to question the background of a servant. Such a person would have
the run of the Castle and would not appear out of place somewhere like Purgatory or in one of the noble's residences in the city.”

“What about Lord Halvok?” Dickon asked.

Sham shook her head. “If the demon is under the control of a wizard then he is a possibility, but he is not the demon himself. I've just heard from the Whisper that Halvok studied for over a decade with the wizard Cauldehel of Reth. Cauldehel turned down the position of Archmage when the last ae'Magi disappeared. He's several hundred years old and very powerful. I can't imagine a demon being able to fool him for such a long time.”

“I'll begin with the servants then—after I finish going through the court records,” said Talbot with a sigh. She didn't envy him his task. In the Castle the servants probably numbered several hundred if not a thousand.

“I'll go hide in my room and try to get some sleep,” she said wearily.

A
s a result of the golem's attack, two guardsmen were stationed outside Sham's door and two more in the passage.

“It's difficult to hunt the demon when I'm confined to my room,” complained Sham, sitting on a chair in the Reeve's room. “It's not like they'll be helpful against the demon anyway.”

Kerim stopped his slow progress around his room, holding on to a chair for balance, but forcing his legs to bear his weight. “Everyone in the Castle knows that you were abducted, even if they don't know who took you. If I don't take
some
steps to ensure your safety, it will cause talk. Confine your investigations to the court for a while; after a week or so I'll find a reason to reassign the guards.”

Sham folded her arms and tapped her foot with disapproval. “I haven't learned anything interesting from the court yet; I can't imagine that will change any time soon.”

Kerim gave her a wise look. “I'll come down with you tonight. It will give you a chance to practice staring at me with possessive awe.”

She laughed, letting her anger go. “Like that, do you?”

“What do you think?”

She looked for the humor in his face, but Kerim had resumed walking; the pain and concentration necessary to make his legs work again forced everything else out of his expression.

 

T
HE DRESS
S
HAM
wore was dark wine silk with silver and gold embroidery—the Reeve's own colors. Though otherwise modest, it clung with unfashionable tenacity to her well-muscled form.

When she entered the Reeve's chambers, Kerim frowned at the dress in a puzzled fashion. Dickon, who was behind her, laughed—it sounded rusty, but it was a laugh. Sham smiled and turned her back to the Reeve. With her hair up, the delicately embroidered leopard that covered the back of the dress was clearly visible. It was a dress that might have been suitable for a wife, but worn by a mistress it was a blatant flaunting of her power—as long as Kerim would stop chortling before they entered the court.

“Several of my counsellors have been suggesting I have let you gain too much influence over my judgments. I can't wait to see their faces when they see your dress.”

Sham let her eyes go vacant and smiled, letting her Southwood accent grow thick, “You like this dress? I like big cats, they're so fierce and splendid, don't you agree?”

“I would never think to argue with you, my dear,” snickered the Reeve, pushing his chair through the door Dickon opened.

 

T
HE DRESS DREW
gratifying frowns of disapproval from the more conservative Eastern Lords, thoughtful looks from several women, and speculative smiles from the Southwood delegation—including Halvok. Sham spent her evening straightening imaginary wrinkles from Kerim's tunic and stroking various parts of his anatomy, much to Kerim's amusement.

Late in the evening Lady Tirra approached with Sky in tow. Kerim's mother greeted Sham without her usual
venom. To Sham's delight, that caused more of a stir among the gossips than the dress had; even Sky looked somewhat puzzled.

After greeting his mother, Kerim turned to Sky. “You are looking beautiful today.”

She smiled graciously, and stepped nearer to the Reeve, dropping to her knees before him. It was an archaic gesture that had been used by Southwood nobles petitioning the king—Lady Sky imbued it with stately grace. The court grew quieter as the nearest people saw her position.

Sham saw a flush rise to Kerim's already dark skin as he said, “Do get up, Lady Sky. There is no need for that.”

Obediently, she rose to her feet and looked into the Reeve's face with serious intent. When she spoke, the room was so quiet her words were clearly audible to most of the straining ears. “I wish to thank you, Lord Kerim, for the help you gave me two nights past. I owe you more than I can say.”

Kerim shifted uncomfortably. “You made Fahill very happy in his last days, Lady Sky—and my brother as well. You owe me nothing.”

Sky smiled and shook her head, her body fairly vibrating with the strength of her intensity. “I owe you everything.”

Sham hoped the surge of jealously that tightened her fingers on the back of the Reeve's chair didn't show. Not because such a response was not appropriate for the Reeve's mistress, but because it was something she preferred to keep private. She knew, looking at Sky, that the Southwood lady loved Kerim. She also knew that Sky was a much fitter mate for the Reeve than a thief from Purgatory could ever be.

 

F
OR THE NEXT
several days, Sham excused herself from court, telling Kerim that she was trying to discover how to destroy the demon. She even managed to avoid the High Priest's funeral.

No longer plagued by ill health, though he still used his chair in public, Kerim haunted the court, hoping to drum up support among the Eastern nobles for a series of
proposed laws. He told her it was doomed for failure, but it might scare the Easterners into softening their positions on several other hard-fought political battles.

Lady Sky had been glued to his side, at the funeral and at court—both the Whisper and Halvok had seen to it that Sham was aware of it. Halvok had taken it upon himself to scold her for her lack of effort.

She'd continued the pretense of being Kerim's mistress in front of Halvok, for that was the main reason he'd decided to help them. He liked Kerim. At the same time, he hated the Easterners with a fervor that the Shark would be hard-pressed to equal, for all that the wizard hid the hatred very well. Sham's position gave him a way of reconciling both feelings.

“Why do you disapprove?” Sham had asked. “She's just what you need—and she's qualified to be his wife. I'm just a thief who can work a little magic—and if that were well known he'd catch fish bait for putting me in the position of mistress.”

Halvok had shaken his head and said, “Lady Sky is a gracious and beautiful lady—which is precisely the problem. She would no more dirty her hands with politics than any other Southwood lady I know. You, on the other hand, would go toe to toe with Altis if you wanted something—and you know what life in Southwood is like for her natives. Kerim cares this much—” he snapped his fingers, “—for what the court says about his private life, and I've seen how he looks at you.”

Sham had laughed at him—but her humor left a sour tinge in her mouth. “He's become a good actor. Kerim knows what I am better than you do—I am a thief, Lord Halvok, and have been for half my life. I have very little in common with the daughter of the Captain of the Guards I was before the invasion, and even she would never have aspired as high as the ruler of Southwood. I think you might have underestimated Lady Sky—and you could make her life at court much more bearable than it is.”

All he had done was raise his eyebrows and say, “Daughter of the Captain of the Guards—I thought he was
nobleborn” in such a speculative fashion that she shooed him out of her room in exasperation.

 

S
HAM PORED OVER
Maur's book, trying to find anything of use against the demon. Lord Halvok had been correct, the only spell it contained for permanently getting rid of a demon required a human sacrifice. Without that, she couldn't conceive of a way to produce the power necessary for such a spell.

Talbot, true to his word, was interrogating all the servants in the Castle, ostensibly to find a necklace conveniently missing from Lady Tirra's jewel box. He left Elsic with Sham most of the time.

Whenever Dickon had a spare moment from the Reeve's service he would join them, and Sham began teaching him the basics of magic. She'd spent the better part of the morning trying to show Dickon how to form a magelight. It was a simple spell; Sham could feel the power simmering beneath the man's frowning face, but he couldn't use it.

“You think about it too much,” said Sham, exasperated.

“Sorry,” he muttered, wiping his forehead.

“Lady Shamera,” said Elsic, feathering several cords lightly on the strings of the old harp.

“Hmm?”

“Why were demons taken from where they belonged? What was their purpose?”

She sat back in her chair. “It was an attempt to gain more power, I think. There are stories of demons telling their wizard masters the secrets of various spells and runes—though a man who would take the word of a slave on how to modify a spell deserves the death that he doubtless received. More importantly, the demon could act as a reservoir of power—like the flute you found in the trunk, but safer for the mage. The wizard would send it out to kill and . . .” she hesitated, because he looked so young and innocent, sitting on the end of her bed with the harp nestled in his lap, “. . . do other things that would generate power for the mage to use.”

“What other ways?” asked Dickon.

“Sex,” answered the young innocent on the bed with a smirk.

“I'm going back to work,” Sham muttered, snatching the book from the seat beside her and opening it with a snap that didn't do the ancient binding any good. Elsic launched, pointedly, Sham thought, into a child's ditty, while Dickon began to try again to form light from magic.

It wasn't opened to the section on demonology, but she began reading anyway. The author was expounding on the difference between male and female wizards. Sham tended to think it was nonsense—
she'd
never noticed her powers changing with moon and tide, but she
had
noticed that most such treatises were written by men.

 

. . . A woman's power is bound to her body more strongly than a man's. Use of strong magics may affect her adversely—so it is better that a woman attend to womanly magics and leave the great spells for her male counterparts . . . There are times when a woman's magic is very strong. When she is breeding her power grows with the child she carries—and childbirth, like death, allows her to perform magics that are far above her normal capabilities.

 

Sham felt her lip lift in a sneer. “Leave the great spells for her male counterparts” indeed. By the cute little fishes in the tide pools, she'd never heard such nonsense. She threw down the book in disgust and picked up the other one Halvok had given her. She hadn't opened it yet, having concentrated on demonology, so she began with the first page.

Runes fascinated her, being beautiful and functional at the same time. The wizard who had drawn the patternbook had a fine hand, making it easy to picture the runes as they would look put together. Runes drawn for patternbooks were divided in bits and pieces, deliberately kept powerless—otherwise such a book would not be possible. Sham took her time, admiring the precision of each line with the
appreciation of having tried to use patterns set less carefully.

Her stomach rumbled, warning of passing time; but she turned one more page—and there it was. The rune that had been marked on Kerim's back. She scanned the page behind it. Bonding magic, yes, she'd known that. Set to draw from the one so bound and give strength to the rune maker. Right, she knew that too—or had a good idea that was its purpose. Then she stopped, with her finger marking the page.

 

. . . can only be set by invitation of the one bound—although that consent need not be explicit and may take the form of strong friendship, physical intimacy, or emotional indebtedness. Thus the maker can brand his loved ones, servants, or bedpartners with this rune without their knowledge.

 

Sham rubbed her nose and stopped reading. The demon was someone Kerim was close to; or someone who, at the time the rune was set, had the appearance of such a person. Certainly, from what she'd read, the demon could have used its golem body to place the runes.

Fahill, she remembered, was a close friend. He had died about the time Kerim had fallen ill. Could Fahill have died earlier and the golem have taken his place? Or was it someone else?

What she needed to do before anything else was to question Kerim about what had happened at Fahill keep. It wasn't a task she relished, but it might narrow down the suspects, bringing her closer to the time when she could leave the Castle. Leave him.

It would be best for her if they found the demon soon, then she could go back to Purgatory—or maybe travel a bit.

She stared at the book for several more minutes, before getting restlessly to her feet. Elsic looked up from coaxing harmonic chords from the strings of the harp, but turned his attention back to his music when she didn't say
anything. Dickon was concentrating so hard on the small flicker of light he held in his hand that it would have taken much more than the sound of her movement to distract him.

“I'm going to see if I can coax something from the kitchens. Stay here with Dickon and I'll be right back,” said Sham. She wanted to talk with Kerim before she discussed her discovery with anyone else.

Elsic smiled and continued playing; Dickon nodded, staring at the lambent spark of magic he held.

Sham went to the door that had replaced the tapestry only the day before. She didn't expect him to be there—these days he was out more than in—but she didn't want to wander the halls with the two guards who were on duty at her hall door.

The newly hung door opened without a sound and Sham shut it behind her. She took a step toward the outer door when the creak of leather drew her attention to the bed.

The first thing she noticed was Kerim's empty chair. She felt an instant of puzzlement before she realized that Kerim was in the bed . . . and he was not alone. If she were not mistaken, the slim, silk-clad back rising out of the bedclothes over Kerim belonged to Lady Sky.

It hurt more than she had thought it would. Sham drew in a deep soundless breath.
Grace
, she cautioned herself as her mother had taught. When life doesn't meet your expectations, it was important to take it with grace. Her father had said the same, but in a different way: lick your wounds in private so your enemies don't see where you are vulnerable.