When Demons Walk (28 page)

By his light it was possible to see that Sham was breathing in the soft panting rhythm of a tired child, and some of the tightness in Kerim's chest slackened. He began to examine her with battle-learned thoroughness for wounds, but found only blisters. They clustered tightly on her hands, then scattered here and there. Her side was covered with blood, but all that Kerim could find was a growing bruise.

He had expected much worse.

Carefully, he gathered her into his lap and wrapped her with his cloak to keep her from getting chilled. As he worked, he thought it didn't seem possible that this bedraggled and dirty thief was the wizard whose blazing figure had recently lit the night. The Shark watched him coolly.

“It's gone,” said Halvok, breaking the silence. He shook his head in private amusement. “Not too badly done, for an apprentice. I'll speak to the wizard's council and see if we can get her raised to master. Sending a demon to hell should count as a masterwork.”

“Not hell,” corrected Elsic with a dream-touched smile. “It was beautiful—didn't you see it?”

W
hen Sham woke, she was in her room at the Castle. With her eyes closed she could hear Jenli arguing with someone. A door closed and the sound was muffled. Sham began to drift off again.

“Shamera,” hissed Kerim softly and her bed dipped under his weight.

With an effort she forced her eyes open.

“I had Dickon distract your maid so I could come in here and talk to you. She's been as bad as a cat with one kitten since we brought you back, although,” he added with a twinkle, “I think she was more upset about your dress.”

Sham started to grin in response, but stopped when she felt her lips began to crack.

“I feel—” she said carefully, so she didn't cause more damage, “—as if I need an apple.”

He looked blank. “An apple?”

“Hmm,” she nodded. “Don't you Easterners roast your pigs with apples in their mouths?”

Kerim surveyed her and laughed. “Except for your hands
it's little more than a sunburn, and Dickon says even your hands won't scar.”

The outer door opened a crack, then snapped shut again.

“I needed to ask you something before Halvok talks to you. I don't want you to agree to his proposal before you listen to mine,” said Kerim hurriedly. “There's not much time. I'm not sure how long Dickon can keep Jenli occupied. I would like you to consider taking Maur's post. I . . .” he said softly, then hesitated and adopted a more businesslike tone. “We need you—just today I've gotten word that there's something odd at the hot springs just outside of Landsend. There's no king of course, so we'd have to change the title.”

Sham carefully kept all expression out of her face, mostly because moving her face hurt. “You want me to be your wizard?”

He nodded. “I've talked to Fykall and he's agreed to give you Altis's blessing, so you'll have that as well as the state's endorsement.”

“A powerful position,” said Sham slowly, uncertain how she felt about having Altis's blessing.

Kerim leaned back against the headboard of her bed. When he spoke his voice could have melted ice. “I trust you.”

To give herself time to think about what that tone meant she asked, “What's Halvok's offer?”

“The Wizard's Council has agreed to raise your status to master.”

Sham shrugged. “It's a formality.”

He nodded. “That's what he said. Additionally, he was able to arrange a position for you with the ae'Magi.” His tongue stumbled over the unfamiliar term.

Impressed, she said, “That's quite an honor.”

“It would allow you to work with other mages. You would have access to the Archmage's libraries.” He softened his voice and leaned nearer. “You would be safe there: no mobs, no demons.”

He knew her too well. Sham cocked her head at him, then leaned forward and touched his lips with hers.
Considering the blistered state of her mouth, it was quite a respectable kiss—for which she gave Kerim full credit.

She pulled away, the corner of her mouth tilted up, and she answered in the thick accents of his mistress. “No mobs? No demons? How utterly boring.”

Until she learned to read, Patricia (Patty) Briggs, lived a mundane's life in Butte, Montana. Shortly after her sixth birthday she found herself living in any number of strange places that only got stranger as the years passed: Narnia, Middle Earth, the Witch World, Pern. At the University of Montana she studied history (as the closest thing she could get to fantasy) and German (castles and good fairy tales), then left Montana for Chicago (talk about strange lands . . .), returned to Montana for a bit, and finally settled in Washington state. Somewhere along the way she acquired three children and a husband (not in that order), a horse, two cats, and a green-cheeked conure.
When Demons Walk
is her third novel for Ace.