I drew back a little, but stayed down on the same level. ''I will not harm you, child of the Gedri. You are friend to Lanen?"
"Yes. Are you?"
I admired her courage. ''I am Akor, the King of the Greater Kindred," I said solemnly, "and I would give my life to protect her from harm."
"Then now would be a good time to start. Marik's got her—"
"I took her to him to be healed."
"Yes, yes, she's healed right enough, but he's got other plans for her. His demon master, that Caderan, has her drugged or ensorcelled or something like. I saw her, she's chained to a wall in his cabin and there's a demon not a foot from her face. As best I can tell it just sits there and sings out when she wakes. I've heard their talk, though, and sure as life they have worse in store for her when true night falls." I shivered, as though the winds of deep winter blew through my soul. True night was all but upon us.
Kédra spoke quietly from behind me, the anger in his voice barely held in check. "How can you know this? Is it in some public place, where all may approve?"
"Sweet Lady, do you think we're all depraved?" she replied sharply. How swiftly the Gedri move from fear to anger. "He's got her behind locked doors and bolted shutters. If the rest of the Harvesters knew about this they'd either go for his hide or bolt in terror. I went looking for her and I saw her through a break in the shutters."
"I think you have put yourself in danger by coming to us," he said, chastened. Her voice was also more gentle as she replied, "I like the child, and despite what happened to her, she trusts you. If anyone can help her against demons, surely you can. The legends say you dragons are life-enemies of the Rakshasa."
I had not spoken, for fear I would scorch the ground. Fire swelled within me at the thought of the Rakshasa near my dear one. Even as I crouched I spoke to the messenger through clenched teeth.
"What is your name?" I demanded.
"Lanen calls me Rella."
"Then for your tidings, Rella, I thank you. Where is the place where she is held captive?"
Her directions meant little to me, but the place was not far, thank the Winds. "Do you stay here with Kédra," I said. "I believe it is not safe for you to be in that place." I bespoke Kédra even as I sprang into the night sky. ''Tell Shikrar where I am gone and why, and protect this Rella from her people and ours. And in my name, summon Idai from the Birthing Cove if Mirazhe is well. In the face of this madness I fear I shall need her. I will return with my dearling as soon as I may.''
My words to the Winds, I prayed as I flew, let my speaking be true.
The guards' cabin was changed beyond all recognition. More than anything else it reminded me of that hidden room in my first Merchant House in Mara, when Berys and I made the Farseer that was the cause of all my pain.
I had trebled the guard, and all six had strict instructions to let none nearer than thirty paces, including themselves. My own cabin was more than fifty paces distant, and I could only hope it would remain free of the taint of our activities. Such things make it hard to sleep.
As for ourselves—Caderan had spent all the hours since dawn placing wards and other things in readiness, in and about the cabin and the grounds. Since the girl had Farspeech, we would be in danger as long as she was awake, until the dedication was complete. His preparations were exhaustive. The girl herself sat slumped in a chair and chained to the wail, as she had been all day. The Rikti who guarded her perched on her knee, alert, and whenever she struggled to consciousness Caderan spelled her asleep again.
On his advice I wore the Ring of Seven Circles.
He had provided a small wooden altar—no more than a table, really, but in the last few days he had carved things deep into the wood. I recognised the seven circles of the Hells, but outside the largest circle there were sigils I had never seen before. When I looked at them, they seemed almost to move— but that might have been the candlelight. On the floor around the altar were scriven in chalk seven more circles, to keep the demon bound.
On the altar were seven candles, all short, stubby things, placed evenly outside the carvings. A cup I recognised from earlier in the day, when he had drawn my blood into it, lay in one corner, along with a wand and a large bowl full of choicest lansip leaves. In the center a round brazier sat piled high with coals. I was surprised that they were yet black and cold, but at a word and a gesture from Caderan they lit themselves. In moments they glowed deep red, like so many malevolent eyes gazing out at us. "The sun is well gone, night approaches," he said.
"Let us begin."
He reached into a pouch at his waist and threw something on the coals. I was amazed to smell lansip burning. For just an instant the place was filled with rare perfume, the very touch of bliss—but at a word from Caderan the smell went instantly rancid. He laughed. "So eager they are for lansip," he said, and his voice shocked me. From its usual high nasal register it had sunk, now far deeper, into a rough and powerful range. It seemed almost to echo in that small room.
Now he began to chant, low and soft, his voice steady. All the while he sang he gestured in air with his hands, drawing out symbols (I recognised one or two of the strange carvings from the altar), making passes over the candles each one in turn. At first I thought it my imagination, but it soon became obvious mat the room was in truth filling with a foglike haze. The very air was thicker, crowded almost. It was hard to breathe.
It was also, obviously, hard to concentrate. Caderan's voice went more slowly now, the syllables (which I had heard him rehearsing by the hour for days) taking more and more effort to pronounce. His tongue stumbled now and then, and each stumble was greeted by a flare of flame from the brazier as if some intelligence waited there for him to falter. The last words were preceded by long pauses, but when they left his lips they were whole, and when the last was pronounced he drew a deep breath of satisfaction. From the altar he took up the wand and couched it to each of the sigils in turn.
''Come, Dark One, thou art summoned. Lord of the Third Hell of the Rakshasa, I call upon thee—by circle, by sigil, by offering, thou art compelled. I charge thee by my power, I charge thee by these sigils, I charge thee by this offering of blood—" Here he poured the dark liquid from the small cup into the coals, setting off a hissing and a stench. "—and of lansip—" Here he emptied the large bowl into the brazier. "—come to this place. By my own power I summon thee, by the power of Malior, Magister of the Sixth Circle, I summon thee, and to bring and to bind thee I call thee by name."
The name sounded to me like a string of grunts and clicks and curses, but there was no mistaking it for anything but a demon name. Caderan had warned me and I had fasted now for a full day, so that when the sound of it made me heave naught escaped me but a little bile, that I caught in a cloth. Even I know it is unwise to leave such personal essences in the presence of demons.
When I looked up I saw that the thick air had begun to congeal above the altar. It outlined limbs surprisingly fair and well made, though the shape of the head made me reach again for my cloth. As it grew more solid it appeared to be the torso and upper limbs of a comely man, though the skin was deep red streaked with black, but above sat the head of a nightmare. It had far too many eyes and mouths, scattered it seemed at random about the many disparate lumps that made up what sat on its thick neck. When it spoke its breath was the stench of rotting meat, and its voice was flat as death.
"Behold, fools, I am come," it said. "None may summon the Lord of the Third Hell and live. Die in agony." And with those words the mouth nearest Caderan grew ten times its size, ringed with teeth like daggers, and reached for him.