Page 145 of Paladin's Faith

He only hoped that he didn’t take too many of his old brethren with him when he did.

“Right,” Marguerite said, late that night. She and the others had gathered in Magnus’s quarters. The artificer had been given a large room on the ground floor, in deference to her difficulty with stairs. She had brewed a pot of tea and Marguerite had already checked the door twice to make sure no one was listening.

No one was. The Dreaming God’s people were apparently even worse than the Saint of Steel about subterfuge. No wonder they can’t spot demons that are good at lying. Though I suppose if you’re mostly expecting levitating cows, you don’t have much experience.

“Are we doing what I think we’re doing?” asked Judith, in her almost eerily calm voice.

Marguerite eyed her warily. The new paladin was the wild card, and Marguerite still didn’t know what to make of her. “Give me your word that what I say does not go beyond this room.”

“Mmm.” Judith considered it. “No.”

Marguerite blinked at her. She wasn’t used to flat denials like that. Usually people at least tried to lie. “What?”

“I said no.” She crossed her hands over the hilt of her sword. “I will not give my word to that. Do you want me to leave?”

“No, I want your assistance.” Marguerite rubbed her forehead and looked at Wren. “Help me here, Wren.”

Wren screwed her face up in thought, then said, “Can you promise not to tell anyone for at least a day?”

Judith considered this. At least, Marguerite thought that she was considering it. Hadn’t she thought Shane was hard to read once? Compared to this woman, he was an open book. Printed in large block letters. With accompanying illustrations.

“Very well,” Judith said. “I will swear not to reveal what you say for a full day, unless it is necessary to save a life.” She inclined her head to Marguerite. “Will that serve?”

“It’ll do,” said Marguerite fervently. “Since I’m trying to save a life here. Maybe you can help.”

“Mmm. I assume that you wish to stage a suicidal raid on the demon’s stronghold in order to extract our possibly-possessed brother before the Dreaming God’s people kill him?”

Marguerite paused, her teacup halfway to her lips. “That was…succinct.”

Judith raised one shoulder in a bare approximation of a shrug. Davith snorted into his tea.

I suppose it’s not like it was hard to guess. I just hope that Jorge doesn’t guess it too.

“I am not actually opposed,” Judith said. “But do you truly believe that he is still in there?”

“It’s Shane,” said Marguerite, frustrated that she didn’t have a better argument to muster. “You know what he’s like. Do you think he wouldn’t fight against possession tooth and nail?”

“Fighting will not always serve,” Judith said. “And having borne a demon is not easy. Do you think he would wish to survive?”

To Marguerite’s surprise, Ashes Magnus was the one who spoke up. “I knew a paladin who was possessed once,” she said. “Or had been possessed, anyhow. Nice lad. Ridiculously good-looking, and thicker than a short plank of wood, mind you.” She pursed her lips. “Had an ass you could bounce a coin off.”

There was a brief pause while everyone gave this comment the attention that it was due. Davith made a choking sound and took a hasty swig of tea to drown it.

“Anyway,” said Magnus, “he’s most of the reason we don’t have clocktaurs anymore.” She dropped a dollop of honey into her teacup and swirled it, ignoring all the eyes on her.

“After he was possessed?” Wren asked.

“Because he’d been possessed before,” Magnus said. “Couldn’t happen to him twice, apparently. Demons don’t share or something like that.” She gave a vast, almost tectonic shrug. “Don’t ask me to explain it. I make machines. Demons are somebody else’s problem.”

“And this paladin was…happy?” Judith wanted to know. Marguerite looked up, slightly surprised by the question.

“Either happy or completely miserable,” Ashes said. “But that was because he was madly in love, and like I said, thicker than a short plank of wood. That bit didn’t have anything much to do with the demon either way.”

Judith leaned back in her chair, expressionless once more.

“I’m just saying, don’t write the lad off just because he’s possessed. You never know.”

“I’m not even sure it’s the same sort of possession,” Wren said. “He said it felt more like when the Saint would touch people. In his soul, not his mind. And the demon was still in somebody else’s body. We saw it.”

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