Patricia Briggs - When Demons Walk

“Does this have something to do with the demon that killed Maur?”

Sham nodded. “It’s not revenge. But it’s the best I can do.”

“Very well.” He put two fingers to his lips and whistled sharply.

A thin man trotted up from somewhere, nodding a grave greeting to Talbot, whom he obviously knew.

“Vawny will escort you to the rental property while I gather a few favors,” said the Shark. “I assume that you mean to take up residence immediately?”

“Immediately,” she answered.

Vawny and Talbot stayed with the horses while she paced out a design in the sandy soil at the top of the cliffs. The ocean was already lower than usual; even the spray from the breakers didn’t come near the top. She’d picked her place carefully. The sandy area was surrounded by large rocks, some as tall as a two-story building, that looked like jagged shark-teeth. Strewn amidst the rocks were small wooden huts cobbled together for shelter. They were currently empty, since the Toadstool had scattered their most recent inhabitants for the night. They would serve as hiding places from the demon until the trap was sprung.

When she had walked the rune through once, she climbed to the top of a convenient rock to inspect her work.

Slithering down to the sand, she made several corrections and checked it once more.

Satisfied, she took a stick and began again, pushing one end deeply into the ground to retrace her footprints. When the pattern was finished, Sham rifled through Talbot’s saddlebags until she found the spool of gold thread.

She glanced surreptitiously at Vawny and decided not to push his integrity further than she had to. Before she pulled the thread out of the saddlebag, she turned it black with a softly spoken spell.

She stretched once and started to lay the metal thread in the patterned soil. It took a long time. Her back grew stiff, and the sky began to darken toward evening well before she was through.

“Can I help?” asked Talbot softly, bringing her a flask front his saddle.

Sham accepted the drink gratefully, shrugging her shoulders to loosen her tight muscles. The sea was pulling away from the cliffs now, leaving a widening strip of sand behind. In the distance she could see the top of the sea wall, a dark, ragged, brooding presence on the horizon, The waveless sea between the wall and the beach was smooth as black glass.

Returning the flask, she nodded her head. “Yes, I need you to fetch Elsic and Lord Halvok. They should be waiting for you at your home by now. I’ll be through with this before you’re back.”

At long last it was finished. Sham closed her eyes and ran a soft pulse of magic through the end of thread she held in her left hand. A brief moment later her right hand tingled faintly where it touched the other end of the thread. The flavor of the magic told her the pattern was correct. Carefully she laid either end in the dirt, making certain that the two did not touch.

With a wave of her hands the sand shifted, burying the rune and the marks her knees had left behind. Standing up, Shamera surveyed the remains of her gown wryly. If this night’s work didn’t pan out, she was likely to end her life buried in the ragged, dirty silk gown.

She removed the illusion she’d put on the wire. Now that it was covered with sand she didn’t need it, and she didn’t want any hint of magic to warn the demon. As she set a broken cobblestone in the center of the rune, she heard riders approaching. It was too dark to see them, but it could only be Talbot, Halvok, and Elsic. The Shark would have let no other riders through.

Sham closed her eyes and worked a touch of magic.

In the castle Kerim watched the small rune Sham had traced on his chair arm flare briefly. It was time then.

Despite his formidable self-control and his doubts, a touch of battle fever caused a surge of elation. He wiggled his toes inside his boot, just to prove he could, then he grinned at Dickon.

“Get the horses ready,” he said. “It’s time.”

The riders dismounted and handed their horses’ reins to the man who had replaced Vawny an hour or so before. As Shark’s man led the horses away, they approached Sham.

Elsic cradled Maur’s flute in one hand and held fast to Talbot’s arm with the other, a reckless grin plastered on his face. “You really think this will work?”

“No,” said Sham repressively.

If anything, Elsic’s expression brightened. She understood him —it was a good thing to be needed. If the boy were a little older, he wouldn’t have half his confidence in the wild scheme she’d come up with.

“Neither do I,” added Lord Halvok. “If you want to activate your rune, I can work the spells to force the demon to submit to me, for my lifetime anyway.”

“For your short lifetime it would be, if the demon had anything to say about it,” replied Sham without heat—they’d already had this argument when she’d first approached him for help.

“If Shamera’s plan fails, could you try to control it then?” asked Talbot.

Sham shook her head, answering before Halvok could. “No. I have to release the rune that holds the demon in place while I work the spell to send it home. If I fail, it’s not going to be contained—nor is it going to be happy with us. Don’t worry, though, if my spell doesn’t work, the backlash of wild magic will kill us and burn Purgatory to the ground before the demon can do anything to you.”

“Thanks,” said Talbot, with a wry grin, “that’s good to know. I wouldn’t want to be killed by a demon.”

Sham left Talbot talking with Lord Halvok and walked to the edge of the cliffs. Below her was inky blackness. Though there was no moon to see by, she could tell by the silence that the tide was out. The unnatural quiet seemed expectant.

Elsic sealed himself on the ground next to her. His sightless eyes closed, he breathed in the salt air.

Kerim knocked softly at the door, ready to play his part. Although he was honest by nature, acting was the meat of any politician, and he had no fears about his ability. He worried about hurting Sky, though, and she’d been hurt enough.

“Who is it?” Sky’s voice sounded husky with sleep.

“Kerim.” There was a pause, and Kerim could almost hear her thinking.

“My Lord?” The door opened partially, and she peered through. Her sleeping gown was sheer and inviting.

Kerim gave her his best boyish grin. “Do you know what day it is?”

“No, My Lord,” she smiled with a hint of shyness.

Looking at her, he found it even harder to believe that Sham was right. He had a feeling that he was going to be apologizing to Sky before the night was over.

“It’s the day the Spirit Tide breaks. Have you ever seen it at night?”

“No, My Lord.”

“Well, get dressed then. You have to see this. I know you’re not up to a strenuous ride yet, but we’ll take a gentle horse for you —I have one with paces as smooth as cream ... and I believe I owe you an apology for last night.”

She drew herself up. “What about Lady Shamera?”

Kerim allowed a sad smile to cross his face. “Ah—Lady Shamera ... Perhaps you could put on a dressing robe and I’ll come in and tell you about her. The hail is not the place for it—I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

The door shut momentarily; when Sky opened it again, she was decently covered in an ivory silk bedrobe.

“Come in, my lord.”

He slipped by her, a difficult thing to do gracefully with his crutches but much easier than the wheeled chair, and took up residence on a uncomfortable wooden stool. She looked from him to the only other seat in the room, a padded loveseat, and smiled before she sat in it.

“You were going to tell me about Lady Shamera?”