The Oathbound (32 page)

The priest thought that if the minstrel Leslac could have seen the expression in Tarma’s eyes at this moment, he’d have used stronger words in his song than he had.

“The uncle of one of the girls found out we were in a town nearby and sent for us,” Kethry picked up when Tarma seemed lost in her own grim thoughts. “We agreed to take the job, and disguised ourselves to go out with the next train. That’s where the song is worst wrong—I was the lady, Tarma was the maidservant. When the bandits attacked, I broke the illusions; surprise gave us enough of an advantage that we managed to rout them.”

“We didn’t kill them all, really didn’t even get most of them, just the important ones, the leaders.” Tarma came back to herself and resumed the tale. “And we got Longknife; the key to the whole business.”

“What—what was the ‘thorough vengeance’?” the priest asked. “I have been eaten up with curiosity ever since I heard the song, but I hardly know if I dare ask—”

Tarma’s harsh laugh rang as she tossed back her head. “We managed to keep one thing from that songster, anyway! All right, I’ll let you in on the secret. Kethry put an all-senses illusion on him and bound it to his own mind-magic so that he couldn’t be rid of it. She made him look like a very attractive, helpless woman. We made sure he was unconscious, then we tied him to his horse and sent him into the waste following the track of what was left of his band. I’ve no doubt he knew
exactly
what his victims had felt like before he finally died.”

“Remind me never to anger you, Sworn One.” The priest shook his head ruefully. “I’m not sure I care for your idea of justice.”

“Turnabout is fair play—and it’s no worse that what he’d have gotten at the hands of the relatives of the girls he murdered,” Kethry pointed out. “Tarma’s Lady does not teach that evildoers should remain unpunished; nor does mine. And Longknife is another bit of scum who had ample opportunity to do good—or at least no harm—and chose instead to deliberately inflict the most harm he could. I think he got his just desserts, personally.”

“If you, too, are going to enter the affray, I fear I am outnumbered.” The priest smiled. “But I shall retire with dignity, allowing the justice of your assertions, but not conceding you the victory. Though it is rather strange that you should mention the demon Thalhkarsh just now.”

Both Tarma and Kethry came instantly alert; they changed their positions not so much as a hair (Tarma leaning on both arms that rested on the table, Kethry lounging a little against the wall) but now they both had dropped the veneer of careless ease they had worn, and beneath that thin skin the wary vigilance of the predator and hunter showed plain.

“Why?” Tarma asked carefully.

“Because I have heard rumors in the beggar’s quarter that some ill-directed soul is trying to reestablish the worship of Thalhkarsh in the old Temple of Duross there. More than that, we have had reports of the same from a young woman who apparently dwells there.”

“Have you?” Kethry pushed back the hood of her buff-colored robe. “Worshiping Thalhkarsh—that’s a bit injudicious, considering what happened at Delton, isn’t it?”

“Injudicious to say the least,” the priest replied, “Since they must know what will happen to them if they are discovered. The Prince is not minded to have light women slaughtered on altars instead of paying his venery taxes. I heard that after Thalhkarsh’s depredations, his income from Delton was halved for the better part of three years. He took care to alter or tighten the laws concerning religious practice after that. Human sacrifice in any form is punishable by enslavement; if the perpetrator has murdered taxpayers, he goes to the Prince’s mages for their experiments.”

Kethry lifted an eyebrow; Tarma took a largish mouthful of wine. They’d both heard about how Prince Lothar’s mages produced his monstrous mindless bodyguards. They’d also heard that the process from normal man to twelve-foot-tall brute was far from pleasant—or painless. Lothar was sometimes called “the Looney”—but
never
to his face.

The little priest met blue and green eyes in turn, and nodded. “Besides that,” he continued, “There are several sects, mine included, who would wish to deal with the demon on other levels. We all want him bound, at the least. But so far it’s all rumor. The temple has been empty every time anyone’s checked.”

“So you
did
check?”

“In all conscience, yes—although the woman didn’t seem terribly trustworthy or terribly bright. Pretty, yes—rather remarkably pretty under the dirt, but she seemed to be in a half-daze all the time. Brother Thoser was the one who questioned her, not I, or I could tell you more. My guess would be that she was of breeding, but had taken to the street to supply an addiction of some sort.”

Tarma nodded thoughtfully.

“Where is this temple?” Kethry’s husky alto almost made the little priest regret his vow of chastity; and when she had moved into the light, and he saw that the sweet face beneath the hood matched the voice, he sighed a little for days long lost.

“Do you know the beggars’ quarter? Well then, it’s on the river, just downwind of the slaughterhouse and the tannery. It’s been deserted since the last acolyte died of old age—oh, nearly fifteen years ago. It’s beginning to fall apart a bit; the last time I looked at it, there didn’t
seem
to be any signs that anyone had entered it in all that time.”

“Is it kept locked up?”

“Oh, yes; not that there’s anything to steal—mostly it’s to keep children from playing where they might be hurt by falling masonry. The beggars used it for a bit as one of their meeting halls, before the acolyte died, but,” he chuckled, “One-Eye Tham told me it was ‘too perishin’ cold and damp’ and they moved to more comfortable surroundings.”

Tarma exchanged a look with her partner;
We need to talk,
she hand-signed.

Kethry nodded, ever so slightly.
We could be in trouble,
she signed back.

Tarma’s grimace evidenced agreement.

“Well, if you will allow me,” the little priest finished the last of his wine, and shoved the bench back with a scrape, “I fear I have morning devotions to attend to. As always, Sworn One, the conversation and company have been delightful, if argumentative—”

Tarma managed a smile; it transformed her face, even if it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “My friend, we have a saying—it translates something like ‘there is room in the universe for every Way.’ You travel yours; should you need it; my sword will protect you as I travel mine.”

“That is all anyone could reasonably ask of one who does not share his faith,” he replied, “And so, good night.”

The two mercenary women finished their own wine and headed for their room shortly after his departure. With Warrl padding after, Kethry took one of the candles from the little table standing by the entrance to the hall, lit it at the lantern above the table, and led the way down the corridor. The wooden walls were polished enough that their light was reflected; they’d been tended to recently and Tarma could still smell the ferris-oil that had been used. The sounds of snoring behind closed doors, the homelike scents of hot wax and ferris-oil, the buzz of conversation from the inn behind them—all contrasted vividly with the horror that had been resurrected in both their minds at the mention of Thalhkarsh.

Their room held two narrow beds, a rag rug, and a table; all worn, but scrupulously clean. They had specified a room with a window, so Warrl could come and go as he pleased; no one in his right mind would break into the room with any of the three of them in it, and their valuables were in the stable, well-guarded by their well-named warsteeds, Hellsbane and Ironheart.

When the door was closed and bolted behind them, Kethry put the candle in its wall sconce and turned to face her partner with a swish of robes.

“If he’s there, if it’s really Thalhkarsh, he’ll be after us.”

Tarma paced the narrow confines of the room. “Seems obvious. If I were a demon,
I’d
want revenge. Well, we knew this might happen someday. I take it that your sword hasn’t given you any indication that there’s anything wrong?”

“No. At least, nothing more than what you’d expect in a city this size. I wish Need would be a little more discriminating.” Kethry sighed, and one hand caressed the hilt of the blade she wore at her side over her sorceress’ robes in an unconscious gesture of habit. “I absolutely refuse to go sticking my nose into every lover‘s-quarrel in this town! And—”

“Warrior’s Oath—remember the first time you tried?” Tarma’s grim face lightened into a grin with the recollection.

“Oh, laugh, go ahead!
You
were no help!”

“Here you thought the shrew was in danger of her life—you went flying in the door and knocked her man out cold—and you expected her to throw herself at your feet in gratitude—” Tarma was taking full revenge for Kethry’s earlier hilarity at her expense. “And what did she do? Began hurling crockery at you, shrieking you’d killed her beloved! Lady’s Eyes, I thought I was going to die!”

“I wanted to take her over my knee and beat her with the flat of my blade.”

“And to add insult to injury, Need wouldn’t let you lay so much as a finger on her! I had to go in with a serving dish for a shield and rescue you before she tore you to shreds!”

“She could have done that with her tongue alone,” Kethry grimaced. “Well, that’s not solving our problem here....”

“True,” Tarma conceded, sobering. She threw herself down on her bed, Warrl jumping up next to her and pushing his head under her hand. “Back to the subject. Let’s assume that the rumor is true; we can’t afford not to. If somebody has brought that particular demon back, we know he’s going to want our hides.”

“Or worse.”

“Or worse. Now he can’t have gotten too powerful, or everybody in town would know about him. Remember Delton.”

Kethry shifted restlessly from foot to foot, finally going over to the window to open the shutters with a creak of hinges and stare out into the night. “I remember. And I remember that we’d better do something about him
while
he’s in that state.”

“This isn’t a job for us,
she‘enedra.
It’s a job for priests.
Powerful
priests. I remember what he almost did to me. He came perilously close to breaking my bond with the Star-Eyed. And he boasted he could snap your tie to Need just as easily. I think we ought to ride up to the capital as fast as Hellsbane and Ironheart can carry us, and fetch us some priests.”

“And come back to an empty town and a demon transformed to a godling?” Kethry turned away from the window to shake her head at her partner, her amber hair like a sunset cloud around her face, and a shadow of anger in her eyes. “What if we’re wrong? We’ll have some very powerful people very angry at us for wasting their time. And if we’re right—we have to act fast. We have to take him while he’s still weak or we’ll never send him back to the Abyssal Planes at all. He is no stupid imp—he’s learned from what we did to him, you can bet on it. If he’s not taken down now, we’ll never be able to take him at all.”

“That’s
not
our job!”

“Whose is it then?” Kethry dug her fingers into the wood of the windowframe behind her, as tense and worried as she’d ever been. “We’d better make it our job if we’re going to survive! And I told you earlier—I
don’t
want you cosseting me! I
know
what I’m doing, and I can protect myself!”

Tarma sighed, and there was a shadow of guilt on her face as she rolled over to lie flat on her back, staring at the ceiling; her hands clasped under her head, one leg crossed over the other. “All right, then. I don’t know a damn thing about magic, and all I care to know about demons outside of a book is that they scare me witless. I still would rather go for help, but if you don’t think we’d have the time—and if you are sure you’re not getting into more than you can handle—”

“I know we wouldn’t have the time; he’s not going to waste time building up a power base,” Kethry replied, sitting down on the edge of Tarma’s bed, making the frame creak.

“And he may not be there at all; it might just be a wild rumor.”

“It might; I don’t think I’d care to bet my life on waiting to see, though.”

“So we need information; reliable information.”

“The question is how to get it. Should I try scrying?”

“Absolutely
not!”
Tarma flipped back over onto her side, her hand chopping at the pillow for emphasis. Warrl winced away and looked at her reproachfully. “He caught that poor witch back in Delton that way, remember? That much even
I
know. If you scry, he’ll have you on his ground. I promise I won’t cosset you any more, but I will not allow you to put yourself in jeopardy when there are any other alternatives!”

“Well, how then?”

“Me.” Tarma stabbed at her own chest with an emphatic thumb. “Granted, I’m not a thief—but I
am
a skilled scout. I can slip into and out of that temple without anyone knowing I’ve been there, and if it’s being used for anything, I’ll be able to tell.”

“No.”

“Yes. No choice,
she‘enedra.”

“All right, then—but you won’t be going without me. If he and any followers he may have gathered
are
there and they’re using magic to mask their presence, you won’t see anything, but I can invoke mage-sight and see through any illusions.”

Tarma began to protest, but this time Kethry cut her short. “You haven’t a choice either; you need my skill and I won’t let you go in there without me. Dammit Tarma, I am your partner—your
full
partner. If I have to, I’ll follow you on my own.”

“You would, wouldn’t you?”

“You can bet on it.” Kethry scowled, then smiled as Tarma’s resigned expression told her she’d won the argument. Warrl nudged Tarma’s hand again, and she began scratching absentmindedly behind his ears. A scowl creased her forehead, but her mouth, too, was quirked in an almost-smile.