“My scintillating intellect, of course,” she offered in Lady Shamera’s vacuous style.
He laughed involuntarily. “Right. I had already begun to rethink your intelligence, based on the reports of my fosterlings. Siven said he thought you used your stupidity with great skill and shrewdness.” Halvok shook his head. “All that aside, you had to be a wizard helping the Reeve track down the demon—he would never have risked taking up with a Southwood lady in this political climate for anything less. Now, you answer my question, how did you recognize me?”
“Maur always said that illusions are an unreliable spell—they are one of the few spells that can lose effect without the spellcaster being aware of it.”
“You aren’t going to tell me.”
“No. It’s not my secret to tell.”
He stared at her for a moment, then nodded his head. “Fair enough.”
Sham pursed her lips and tapped her fingers lightly on the table. “You sound as if you value Lord Kerim.”
He frowned sharply. “Of course I do. Why do you ask?”
She looked up from the table and narrowed her eyes at him. “Because some idiot summoned the Reeve through the worst corner of Purgatory just to recite an old story that could have been told to the Whisper.”
Halvok’s eyebrows flew up at the tone of her voice. “It was an opportunity I could not resist. Purgatory is a black hole where our people disappear. The Easterners like to forget that it exists—or they pretend that it is nothing more than a slum like most cities of any size have. You were safe with the Shark beside you, no one would risk his wrath—”
“—To kill the Cybellian Lord who is given primary credit for putting down any hope that Southwood had of shaking off Altis’ yoke? You are the one who needs to visit Purgatory, if that’s what you think,” snarled Sham. “The Shark, despite his own belief, is neither omnipotent nor omniscient and there are any number of people in Purgatory who would be happy to give their miserable lives to prove it.”
“Are you—” said Halvok softly, obviously keeping a firm hold on his temper, “—speaking as a concerned citizen or as the Reeve’s mistress?”
“Does it matter?” she returned roundly. “What you did was stupid and unnecessary. The Reeve knows all he needs to about Purgatory; where do you think he found me?”
Halvok stilled. “You were in Purgatory?”
Sham nodded. “The Reeve saved my life. Why do you think I am working for him, an Altis-worshipping Cybellian?” Twisting the truth was one of her many talents.
“Lord Ervan was hardly so poor that his widow—” he hesitated, then said in the manner of one stating an obvious fact he had overlooked, “You’re not his widow.”
“I,” said Shamera, losing enough of her annoyance to grin at him. “—am a thief, and have lived in Purgatory since the Castle fell. Look, I need to know everything you can tell me about demons.”
Suddenly he grinned as well. “Now that I’m feeling guilty enough to risk talking about them? All right, I admit, it was a stupid impulse to insist that the Reeve come to my workshop—especially as weak as he is. Although he’s been getting better ever since Ven died, hasn’t he?”
“Actually,” she said, “not quite. He’s been getting better since we discovered Ven’s body, though one had little to do with the other. That night I found a number of runes on and about the Reeve’s person that tied him to the demon. Apparently the demon was responsible for Lord Kerim’s illness—I’m not sure why, or even exactly what it was doing. The runes it was using are odd forms of the master patterns.”
Lord Halvok looked around until he found a pair of stools. He gave one to Sham and sat upon the other. “Why don’t you tell me what you know about this demon, and I’ll tell you anything I can.”
“Very well.” She perched on the proffered seat. “The demon is killing people every seven to eight days and has been for the past ... oh three quarters of a year or so. It didn’t start concentrating its kills at the Castle until several months ago. As I told you, it killed Maur —which is how I first got involved.”
“So the killings started about the same time as the Reeve’s illness?” said Halvok.
“Yes.”
Lord Halvok frowned. “From what I know of demons, it is killing far more frequently than it needs to. Demons need to feed on death—but supposedly only once every several months.”
“Right,” agreed Sham, “but in order to keep its simulacrum working, I believe it needs to kill much more often.”
“A simulacrum?” Halvok sounded intrigued.
“Lord Ven had been dead several days before we discovered his body. I ... freshened it to avoid frightening everyone who had seen him in court while his body was rotting in a little-used room in the Castle. The last form it had to wear that I know of belonged to a dead stableman.”
“The stableman who was found dead in the company of the Reeve’s pet selkie?”
She nodded. “It killed him to get rid of Ven’s form and used Elsic—the selkie—to throw as much sand over its trail as it could.”
Halvok shook his head. “By the tides,” he swore, “no wonder it has been so hard to catch.”
“Can you tell me how to find the demon?”
“No.”
“All right, then. Do you know how to kill it?”
Halvok shrugged. “Find out who it is and kill the body that houses it—after you destroy the simulacrum. It should take the demon a decade or so to find a person whose body it can steal. They are capable of that, you know, if they are not already tied to a host. The demon itself cannot be killed ... unless—.” He stiffened as if a new thought had occurred to him, “—if you can find the demon, and enslave it the way the old magicians used to, it will die when you do.”
Sham thought about that and shook her head. “It’s free now because it killed the mage who called it, and he knew far more about demons than I do. Is there a way I can send it back where it came from?”
Lord Halvok nodded and elaborated. “You’ll need to find a virgin, cut out his tongue, put out his eyes, chant a few lines, cut out his heart and feed it to the demon after taking a bite yourself. Death is capable of generating great power if you use it right. I have a young cousin who might work, though I’m not certain about his virginity, you understand.”
Sham snorted—“I think I’ll pass—if nothing else works I’ll settle on killing its host. What about the Archmage who destroyed Tybokk? How did he do it?”
“He managed to bind it to the dead body it had occupied so it was unable to seek another host. He used a spell that has been lost with most other demon lore—it’s not in Maur’s book. Perhaps there is something in the ae’Magi’s library. I won’t stop you if you want to ask the ae’Magi if he has a book of demonology in his possession—although such an admission would require him to present himself to the council for execution. Maybe it would help if you told him that you had a book on demon lore, but needed a specific reference.”
Sham laughed despite herself and held up a hand in surrender. “Would it be acceptable if I talk with you again after I have had a chance to read this?” She tapped the book he’d given her.
The nobleman bowed his assent. “Lady, you have whatever aid I can offer. I will contact my old master and see if he has any suggestions.”
“I would appreciate that.” Sham rose from the stool and walked to the door. Before she opened it, however, she turned back to him, “Lord Halvok, would you happen to have any books on runes? Something that might have the forms that the demon is using?”