Page 125 of Paladin's Faith

“Well,” said Marguerite.

“That woman was creepy,” said Davith, as the sound of footsteps faded.

“She’s obviously got some kind of cult,” said Marguerite, “what did you expect? Normalcy?”

Shane showed expression at last, shaking his head and turning away from the door. “It’s worse than that,” he said grimly. “There’s a demon in her.”

“Are you sure?” Davith asked.

A hard, humorless bark of laughter came from Shane’s throat. “I served in the Dreaming God’s Temple until I was seventeen. Yes. I’m sure.”

“…fuck,” said Davith eloquently, tried to walk away, found the wall only two paces away, and dropped into the corner.

“She must be very strong,” said Marguerite.

Shane rubbed his face. “Strong doesn’t begin to cover it.” He had felt the creature that called itself Wisdom tugging at him, reaching out with invisible hands to touch the shape of his mind. It was as far beyond the poor mad thing in the steer as Shane was beyond a mouse. “Strong and old and smart and…just…more.”

“I thought you couldn’t sense the smart ones.”

“You can’t if they try to hide it. This one isn’t bothering. I think it was amused that I knew about it.”

“This is the cult then,” Marguerite said. “The one that the Dreaming God’s people warned us about.”

“It must be.” Shane felt his throat work around another humorless bark. “There couldn’t possibly be two like this.” He looked over at Wren, who had her arms wrapped around herself. “Did it try to talk to you?”

Wren shook her head. “I could feel it,” she said, almost inaudibly. “It was like…like standing next to someone when the tide takes them. You feel it rising in them, even if they don’t move. Except this wasn’t just the tide.” She looked up at Shane, her face very pale. “This felt almost like the god.”

Shane nodded. The Saint of Steel had been infinitely greater than a demon, but He had only poured so much into His paladins as mortal flesh could bear. The demon had no such concerns. That woman it’s riding must be as hollow as an egg by now.

How long until it chooses another steed?

Shane was very afraid that he knew the answer.

Marguerite turned and looked at the two Red Sail operatives. One was a young man with a face like a shovel and a goose-egg turning purple between his eyes, and the other was an older woman who looked as if she should be running a bed and breakfast somewhere. Shane had watched her put a crossbow bolt two inches from his head. At a distance of at least forty yards.

“Soooo…” said Marguerite. “I realize you’ve both been hired to kill us, but given that we’ve been captured by a cult run by a demon, do you think we could set that aside for the moment?”

The younger one looked at the older one, who snorted. “Honey, we are not getting paid enough for this.” She swept her arm in a general motion that took in the keep, the cult, and presumably the demon. “So far as I’m concerned, bygones are bygones, at least until we’re out of here.”

“Which is exactly what you’d say if you were still planning to kill us,” Davith pointed out.

“Nobody wants to kill you,” said the older woman, a bit rudely.

“Well, now I feel rejected.”

“Anyway, I’m a sharpshooter, so unless they return our weapons, I’m reduced to hurling insults.” She leaned back against the wall in the corner and closed her eyes. “Wake me when they come to kill us horribly.”

There didn’t seem to be much to say to that. Everyone took a piece of floor. The cell wasn’t really large enough for six people, so there was a great deal of negotiating of leg placement.

Marguerite decided that discretion could go hang and leaned against Shane’s chest. He looked down at her and she saw a brief flash of gratification cross through his unease.

“Can you exorcise her?” she asked.

Shane shook his head. “No priest or paladin would try to tackle this one alone. They’d send a small army, and expect to take losses. You see one like this once or twice in a generation.”

Marguerite rubbed her face wearily. “Can we negotiate with it?”

She felt him stiffen against her back. “We don’t negotiate with demons.”

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