“Will those be sealed now?” Martin shuddered, thinking of Dreckons slipping through.
The thing wearing Peter’s body shook its head. “The beings you called demons are no more. To our great sorrow, they were killed when Thomoth fell. Not only did the one named Garamel and his mate sacrifice themselves, as they knew they were doomed, the Dreckons’ last act was to use themselves to save others.”
Garamel, who’d cried on Xariel’s shoulder, and all his kind. Pups. He’d had a young daughter. Gone forever. Even for a former demon hunter, the loss hurt.
Knowing the child was now lost, with the rest of Garamel’s people, to save Martin’s world.
He could harbor no ill will, for it accomplished nothing.
Sige continued, “If the remaining worlds so desire, I will seal the link. However, I believe a battle won together is a strong bond on which to build an alliance. The Lady’s novices who do not wish to enter the Father’s service are free to make their own lives wherever they wish.”
The being placed a hand on Martin’s shoulder. “Rest now. And recover. You will be attended to in my absence.”
How could Martin rest when this thing still had Peter? Nevertheless, his eyes slid shut.
Chapter Forty-four
WhennextMartinopenedhis eyes, Gaveth sat by his bedside. “Enough lying about. Time to step out into a new world.”
Martin washed from a pitcher and bowl and donned the clothing sitting on the foot of the bed. Not his black leathers, merely cotton shirt and woolen trousers, the kind Peter or another shopkeeper might wear.
Though shaky, Martin allowed Gaveth to lead him out of the temple and into the streets. Good. All the excess made him decidedly uncomfortable. He attempted to divert his gaze from the new reality of the Lady’s temple. The formerly majestic gardens now looked like the battlefield they’d become.
Portions of the surrounding wall lay in ruins, a tumbledown of mortar and stone.
“Novices have begun identifying the dead,” Gaveth said. He wore his usual brown robes but with no gloves and hood thrown back, exposing his natural looks. “Sadly, few of Thomoth’s followers survived.”
Though no bodies lay on the grounds, Martin couldn’t look at the place without recalling the dead and dying, hearing their screams. Seeing Cere’s friendly face, twisted by Thomoth’s greed and hate.
Witnessing something else behind Peter’s eyes and in his voice.
The fountains had been turned off, though the water in some remained pink. Martin tried to reverse time in his mind, recall roses and richly dressed novices, Cere’s smiling face, but an uglier vision chased the images away.
Martin once stood before the gates, hatred in his own heart, vowing revenge. How naïve he’d been to believe revenge wouldn’t come with so high a cost. The expensive mansions surrounding the temple appeared relatively unscathed, save for tree limbs and other debris shaken loose by the quakes. No elegant carriages trundled over the cobblestones, no richly dressed worshippers strode into the temple.
Thomoth was a threat no more, and its departure forever changed the city’s way of life.
Martin trudged downhill, passing through the business district and into residential areas without a word.
Black banners announcing death hung from far too many doors.
A cart trundled by, loaded with bodies. For a moment, Martin flashed back to a long-ago time, seeing a three-fingered hand and believing his dear Petran hanged for a pirate. “How many dead?”
Gaveth sighed. “Many. Too many. Buildings fell when the magic returned. Most people haven’t felt the change, but those with mage blood do. They’ve flocked to the temple, seeking guidance. The guardians are teaching those most adept, small spells to help in the recovery. To return this world to rights will take all magic users available.”
In a daze, Martin strolled barely recognizable streets. He stopped before the building where his rented rooms still stood, an angry crack in the stucco façade.
Gaveth paused beside him. “We took the liberty of taking your things to the temple.” He gave an apologetic shrug. “Looting has begun.”
Sometimes, adversity brought people together; other times, it brought out the worst.
They marched with purpose to the lower city, passing ruined houses, families crying over their dead, and some stumbling aimlessly, expressions vacant. Smoke rose from the docks. The farther from the temples they traveled, the worse the damage. Of course, houses in the lower city weren’t nearly as well constructed as in the upper.
A blackened ruin remained of the Stone’s Throw. A woman sifted through the rubble. Martin’s blood boiled. How dare… Oh. “Addie?”
The woman turned, tears streaking her sooty face. Addie!
Addie rushed over, grasping Martin by both arms. “Have you seen Peter? I cannot find him. I’m worried…” She glanced over her shoulder at the burned-out shell that once housed a bustling tavern.
