“Go on,” she told the gnole. “I’ll be back or—not.”
“Good luck, crazy lady,” said the gnole, and melted into the dark.
Slate turned back to the largest earth-lodge. The door…no, the door was right out.
She crouched down and rubbed her hands in the dust. Then she hitched the sword in place one last time, and began to climb.
Caliban hung alone in the dark. The earth-lodge was gone, Brenner was gone, the rune was gone. He clung to the ache of his knees as long as he could, but it spun away from him, and then he might not have had knees or a body at all.
“Ngha…”his demon murmured in the dark. He still had that, at least.“Ngha, ha kalikalikaliha…”
He had no time to dwell on what that might mean. The darkness broke apart and the rune was in it—or not quite the same rune, because she was younger and her face was more human. She was beautiful, in a terrible way, but her eyes were still too wide apart and antlers rose from her brow in a great arching sweep of bone.
It was impossible to tell how far away she was. There was nothing in this dark place to provide any reference.
She walked toward him. Her feet looked human, but they left hoof prints across the faceless dark, which drifted smoke behind her.
Caliban had a body again. He was still kneeling, and he still seemed bound. His knees didn’t hurt, however, and he couldfeel his feet, which was probably a sign that something else was going on.
“You carry one of my kind here, shining one,” she said. The cadence was strange, as if she still spoke with the broken syntax of the rune, but the meaning came through clearly.
Hallucination. It’s a hallucination, that’s why I can understand her, and she’s controlling it. My god, she’s strong. Where did she get the power to do this?
“Why did you bring your demon here? I can smell lies, shining one!”
His heart thudded against his ribs like a drum.
The drums. That’s where she got the power—she called the rats and drained them dry. She’s draining the rune to do this too, I bet. Oh, Dreaming God, this one is strong.
He licked his lips. Whether they were real lips, or a phantom, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps it didn’t matter.
“I didn’t mean to. The demon is part of me. A storm drove me here. I did not know you were here.”
Her nostrils flared. Her face was next to his, close enough to bite or kiss.
Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.
“If you can smell lies,” he said, “then you know I’m telling the truth.”
“Sssss…” Her breath hissed out, and then her lips parted and a stream of guttural demonspeech came out.
Caliban had no idea what she was saying—the translation of this hallucination apparently did not extend so far—but his demon clawed frantically at his throat, and he heard himself crying“Ngha, ha! Kalaakalaak ha!”
The demon wanted to cower back and cover its head. Caliban gritted his teeth and did neither.
The antlered doe laughed, highly delighted. Fingers caught his chin and lifted it. “Itisdead, then. You carry a corpse inside you, shining one.”
“Yes.”
“Shining one” must be how she translates “paladin” or “knight” or both. It’s probably a good thing Brenner can’t hear that.
Her voice dropped, became throatier. The fingers stroked against his skin. “Would you give me your demon, shining one, if I asked?”
“What?”
The rune stood over him, her hands clasped on either side of his face. Her thumbs moved over his cheekbones. “Give me your demon. I can take it from you, shining one. It need not trouble you any longer…”
Was she telling the truth? Could she set him free? Not even the exorcism had been able to wrench the demon loose—whatever sins it had set its claws in were lodged too deep. They’d left him with a corpse wrapped around his soul, rotting in the back of his head, and not even death had stopped its mouth.
