Patricia Briggs - When Demons Walk

“Yes,” he sighed and looked at his feet before turning his gaze to hers. “I am not her first protector, you know. She enjoys men. I met her soon after you came here, and I think that it was knowing that I had to leave you alone that drew me to her.”

“But I was crippled and it was getting worse.” He swallowed heavily and continued in almost a whisper. “I knew that Ven loved you, and would make an admirable husband and father. The child ... the child was mine, wasn’t it?” He didn’t have to feign the sadness in his voice: the poor babe, doomed by demons and wizards long dead or by mischance, he supposed it didn’t matter which.

“I thought I was dying. I could see no good in making you a widow a second time, so I went looking for something to put between us—and I found Shamera.” He played with the top of his left crutch. “Then I began to recover.”

“I noticed that you have been getting better, my lord. Can you tell me why?”

He hesitated and managed to look frustrated and slightly guilty. “That’s the truly odd part, and I’m not certain it is my secret to tell.”

“My lord,” she said meeting his eyes squarely. “Anything you say will stay with me.”

He gave her a measuring glance, then nodded as if in sudden decision. “Late one night, when one of the cramping spells began, Shamera came in and ... worked magic.” He let some of the wonder he had felt creep into his voice. “I would not have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself. Shamera has told me that the wizards are largely fled from here, though there are a few, like her, who hide what they are.”

“Did she find out who did that to you?”

Kerim nodded his head, even while the meaning of the mistake she’d just made washed over him. He’d never told Sky that Sham had been undoing a spell laid upon him—just that she’d worked magic. “She seems to think so,” he said smoothly. “After the High Priest died—and this is the strangest part. I’m not sure I’d believe it if Shamera hadn’t had Brother Fykall to back her up—something took over his body, or wore his shape. Shamera says that it was a demon. It made the mistake of going to the Temple of Altis, and brother Fykall destroyed it.”

Sky’s mouth tightened with anger momentarily. If he hadn’t been watching her closely, he would have missed it. The guilt that he’d been feeling for misleading Sky all but melted away.

“I owe Shamera a great deal—my health, and even my life. But —” he looked down, as if caught by shyness. “—I don’t love her. Last night made me realize that I had to talk to her, and tell her how I felt. I’d already left it too long; I was afraid I would hurt her.”

He grinned suddenly. “I almost wish you’d have been there. I was expecting to face down the virago who leapt on my bed with a broken pitcher and faced a merchant instead. She let me say what I had to say, then smiled and laid down terms she thought were fair for services rendered.”

Kerim smiled coaxingly. “Come with me tonight, Sky. I haven’t been to the sea for a long time. The Spirit Tide is something you will remember for the rest of your life.”

“I ...” she gave him a look filled with desire and fear. “I don’t know if I should ...”

“Come with me,” he lowered his voice into a purr. Practicing with Shamera had improved his seduction technique.

She drew in a breath, and recklessly said, “Yes, I would like that. If you’ll wait a moment in the hall, I’ll put on riding clothes.”

“For you, I’ll wait,” replied Kerim softly, rising to his feet and crossing the distance to the hall as lightly as someone on crutches could be expected to.

Lady Sky gave him a quick, bright smile before she shut the door.

Lantern in hand, Dickon waited outside the walls of the Castle with three horses: A sweet-faced bay mare, his own sturdy gelding, and Kerim’s war stallion, Scorch.

The stallion looked rather odd with the crutches attached to the shoulder of either side of the saddle, but he was used to carrying stranger things than crutches. Kerim rubbed the black muzzle affectionately.

Cautiously, with Dickon holding the opposite stirrup so the saddle wouldn’t slip, Kerim gripped the saddle at pommel and cantle and powered the rest of his body up and into position. Not graceful, but it was effective. Dickon handed Kerim the lantern, and helped Lady Sky on her mare before mounting himself.

“We are not to go alone, my Lord?” questioned Lady Sky softly, with a pointed look at Dickon.

Kerim shifted his weight until the stallion sidestepped next to Lady Sky’s mount. Reaching over he took one gloved hand into his free hand and brought it to his lips. “Alas, no, Lady. The best place to view the Spirit Tide is on the other side of a bad section of town. Despite the fact that I’ve paid off the proper people to ensure a quiet ride, it would be sheerest folly to go into such a place with only a crippled warrior such as myself to guard you. Dickon is quite a hand with that sword he carries.”

Lady Sky smiled. “So this is not such an impulsive trip after all —you could have given me more notice.”

Behind her, Kerim noticed that Dickon was frowning his disapproval. He’d cautioned Kerim about flirting too hard and hurting Sky.

“Ah, me.” Kerim grinned. “I have betrayed myself. No, Lady, I’ve been planning this for most of the day.” He gave her a convincing leer. “But if I had given you notice, you’d not have met me in your sleeping gown.”

Lady Sky laughed and followed him as he nudged his mount into a swinging walk.

In spite of his spoken pessimism, Kerim’s ride through Purgatory was without incident. He could feel the eyes peering at them from the inky blackness, but they stayed there. Apparently Shamera had greased the right fists with his gold. He took his time, flirting and delaying. By the time they reached the broken timbers of the old bell tower, he calculated that they only had a short time before the tide returned.

Kerim stopped the stallion near a clump of scrub a fair distance from the cliffs. Returning the lantern to Dickon’s care, he dismounted with more expediency than skill, but ended up on his feet, which was something of a salve to his pride.

While Dickon saw to Lady Sky’s dismounting, Kerim untied the leather strings that kept the crutches in place. He was still unsteady on his feet, but with the crutches he had a fair bit of mobility on the rough ground.

“Come,” he said, leading Lady Sky away from the horses and Dickon, “You’ll have to take the lantern.”

The nearby buildings were nearly rotted through from the salt-sea air. Kerim ignored them as he made his way to a small area of sandy dirt near the cliffs. He stopped with the base of one crutch resting near a solitary piece of broken cobblestone. Sometime during the ride the stars had come into their full glory. Even without the moon’s light, it was possible to see the beach far below.

Sky drew in her breath as she gazed beyond the cliff. “How fascinating.”

“Beautiful,” he agreed, “an unexpected act of nature—like you.” He reached into his belt pouch and looked for something that wasn’t there.

“Plague it,” he said, with boyish embarrassment, “I brought you something, but I forgot to get it from Dickon. Wait here, I won’t be but a moment.”

She gave him the lantern. Holding it awkwardly, he turned and rapidly made his way back to the horses while Lady Sky waited, her beautiful profile turned to the sea and a faint smile on her face.

As soon as Kerim was far enough away, Lord Halvok sneaked soundlessly around the remains of the building he had been hiding behind, giving Sham a hint at the reason his guerrilla campaign had been able to hold out against the Easterners. He stopped at the place she had hidden the break in the wire.