The rune drew back, hissing.
Caliban turned.
Brenner was holding the antlered doe up with one arm around her waist. The other held a knife at her throat. The old shaman’s eyes were rolling, and blood made a red mask over her face. Several tines had snapped off her antlers, perhaps when Slate had slammed her to the floor.
“Brenner, be careful! There’s a demon in there!”
“Well, there’s a whole lot of those bastards outhere, so we’re taking our chances.” He brandished the knife at the rune, then set the point back against the shaman’s throat. “Now. Everybody backs off, nice and easy, and my friends and I are going for the door.”
Whether the rune understood what the assassin was saying, or if the gestures were enough, they backed away from the edge of the pit. Caliban boosted himself out of the sunken circle and pulled Slate up after him.
“Take her,” growled Brenner, never taking his eyes off the rune.
“What?”
“Take the hostage!”
His conscience twinged like a bad tooth. Good paladins did not take hostages, particularly not old women.
Brenner must have seen it in his face. “Take the goddamn hostage or you can stay here with the rune!”
Slate gave them both a disgusted look, reached down, and grabbed Brenner’s knife in her good hand. “Set her on the edge,” she ordered, steadying the silent shaman against her body. Antlers poked at her like tree branches, and she turned her face away.
Shamed for more reasons than one, Caliban pulled the doe upright. Brenner leapt up after her, light on his feet despite thelong confinement, and took his blade back. The hilt slipped briefly in his fingers.
“You’re bleedin’ pretty good, Slate, darlin’.”
“Yeah, I know. The tattoo wasn’t keen on this idea.”
Both men winced.
The rune were watching them with big, worried eyes.
“Back towards the door,” said Brenner, taking possession of the old shaman again.
They backed.
The noise of a man stepping on a carpet of dead rats in bare feet is “squiickrunch.” Caliban felt that he could have gone his whole life without learning this particular fact.
“Your boots are outside,” said Slate.
Caliban glanced at the demon, but it wasn’t saying anything.
I bet it’s hoping we’ll take it out of here as a hostage.
We might not have much choice.
Of the three of them, Brenner was the only one in any shape to fight if the rune got restive. If they dropped the shaman, the rune might follow, and then what would they do?
At the door to the earth-lodge, Brenner paused. He pointed the knife at the assembled rune.“Stay.”
The leather curtain fell down. The demon still didn’t say anything.
“You think they understood that?”
“Works on dogs.”
They made it to the edge of the village. Slate ducked into a shadow and came out with their boots.
