“Chaddie Laddie,” Helto said, his breath coming in short pants. “While I’d love to discuss how uncivilized it is to come through the back door, there are more demanding issues at hand.” He cast a wild glance at Rosea. “We really should leave. Right away.”
“God damn and blast your civilness,” Chadde said, all calmness gone. “We discovered your missing guards and groomers inside, sire. What’s left of them.”
“Those did have the talent,” the sea and I said as we stood in front of Rosea. “Air, fire, water, or earth, they had it in various measures, and so were given to the demon. Others were devoured just because they were yours, sire.”
“Mine,” Jusson said, the blood still wet upon his sword. “Stay your hand, Peacekeeper. This foolish tool is also mine.”
Dyfrig dipped a sprig of hyssop into the blessed water and sprinkled it on the altar. A bird chirped, then another, and another, and suddenly the graveyard silence tore away like rotted cloth. The distant rambling became abruptly louder; it was the sound of horses’ hooves against cobblestones. A lot of horses, all moving very fast.
“Yes, of course, Your Majesty,” Helto said to Jusson. He held his hands out, pressed together at the wrists. “I’m guilty as charged. Take me prisoner and let’s leave. Now—”
“What’s wrong with Rosea?” Arlis interrupted.
“She is losing control of the demon,” Wyln said.
“Jaban’s Waste,” Jusson said. “And now Jusson’s.” He started to turn his head to Rosea, but on the way got a good look at me—and his detachment fell away. “Cousin?”
Sweat rolling down his face, Dyfrig held his hands over the unlit candle.
“And Two Trees’son has become an avatar of an aspect turned elemental,” Wyln said.
The roar of the sea filling me completely, I planted the bundle of staves against the portico step, waiting.
Rosea gave a faint moan, all of her color fading—except for her pupils. They were still a bright, glittering green.
“When giants fight, the grass is crashed.” Chadde pushed through to the front step. For a terrible moment her gaze rested on Thadro before going across the square. “Perhaps we can find refuge in the church.” Everyone turned to look at the church—and its blasted front—and many fell to their knees, commending their souls to God.
Rosea moaned again, this one growing louder until she was screaming, her head thrown back. She went up on her toes, her body impossibly stretched in her extremity. She then slowly came back down on her feet and lowered her head, bringing those glittering, hate-filled eyes to me. “Free,” she said, her voice melodic.
Taking advantage of our distraction, Helto shoved through the wall of watchmen and disappeared into the town hall doors. Those not praying (and several who were) emulated the taverner and broke and ran, jostling Dyfrig as the doyen desperately chanted. Jusson, Wyln, Chadde, Beollan and I remained in a loose circle around the player, Arlis standing behind me. Jusson hefted his sword and took a step towards the player, but Wyln shot out an arm.
“Bei,” Wyln said, his eyes on me. “Jos dosni.”
Stop, no closer, in the mode of elder to child. Beollan, however, either didn’t know elvin or didn’t care, as he did come closer. “Rosea,” he said. “Ranulf’s dead. There’s just you. Please, let me take you home.”
The demon smiled, showing even white teeth. “Rosea doesn’t live here anymore, Warlord. She was evicted for failure to pay her debts.”
“Another lie,” we said, our voice echoing in the square.
The demon’s smile widened. “I was invited in, little bunny. Would you now cast me out? Please, do try.”
Yes, the sea roared, and it exploded through me to crest in a long, towering moment before crashing down. But even with the force of the wave, the demon remained standing. Still smiling, it held out its hand and a sphere began to form, white shards of ice shooting through it. However, instead of resting on the palm, the sphere engulfed it. Startled, the demon tried to shake the sphere off, but the rapidly expanding orb swelled until it swallowed the demon whole. The sphere began to spin, slowly at first, then faster and faster with the demon’s arms stretching out from the force, its red hair streaming about it. Faces suddenly appeared, swirling past me before disappearing—Rodolfo, Keeve, Tyle, the slain royal guards, groomers. The demon disgorging its prey. The sphere spun faster, the arms now pressed above its head, its throat bulging out, its mouth opening impossibly wide. An outline of a hand and arm thrust out, followed by a suggestion of a head, then a body, more a disturbance in the spinning water than anything obviously corporeal.
The demon escaping.
Waiting until it was almost out, I swung the staves—the Faena’s, the Church’s, and mine together—a wake of bubbles trailing behind them as they sliced through the whirling sphere. They connected with a solid thump that shook my teeth, and the demon went flying. The spinning sphere immediately split in two, the first part remaining with Rosea while the second engulfed the demon, swiftly narrowing until it was a thin line. There was a flash of glittering, hating eyes, just as the line winked out, and then the sea ebbed, leaving nothing behind but glistening foam and a scattering of pearls on the portico steps.
“Gone,” Beollan whispered, tears once more rolling down his face. “Both gone.” Where the tears struck the portico step they sparkled. Shivering with cold and wet, I looked down. Diamonds.
Miraculously getting a spark from his wet tinderbox, Dyfrig lit the candle. He then leaned his hands on the altar, his head hanging down in weariness.
“Immersed in water yet we don’t drown,” Chadde said, dripping. “What are you?”
“What he always has been,” Jusson said, his voice cracking as he pushed his wet hair back. “Mine. God help us.”
“Ours,” Wyln corrected, wiping seawater from his face. He sounded his normal self, but his hands were trembling once again. “And someone who did by himself what had taken ten masters working in tandem to accomplish. What did you do, Rabbit?”
“Nothing,” I said, my own voice breaking. Drained, I leaned against the staves. “It was the aspect, taking back what was taken in the first place.” I hesitated, then decided to say nothing about metaphors and visions. I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk to myself about them, let alone with others. Thinking about what lay on the wet ground behind me, I closed my eyes. A tear leaked out anyway, warm against my cold face. It remained saltwater as it splashed against the stone step.
“Kind of left that to the last moment, Rabbit,” Jeff said.
“Don’t stop now,” Laurel said, “we’re not finished.”
Just then, the cavalry arrived, with troopers and armsmen bursting into the square.
Chapter Thirty-nine
I spun around, my eyes wide, my mouth hanging open. “Jeff?”
I wasn’t the only one gaping. Folks were jumping and shrieking and snorting all over the place—some at the sudden appearance of the garrison horsemen, but many, many more at how those who, just a moment ago, were dead or dying, were now splashing to their feet. However, Jusson proved that he was king material by quickly grasping what was happening. Hastily resheathing his sword, he ran down, with Chadde at his heels, to where Thadro and the King’s Own were rising with wondering faces, with more than one aiming their gazes at me with a sort of dazed recognition.