Returning the flask, she nodded her head. “Yes, I need you to fetch Elsic and Lord Halvok. They should be waiting for you at your home by now. I’ll be through with this before you’re back.”
At long last it was finished. Sham closed her eyes and ran a soft pulse of magic through the end of thread she held in her left hand. A brief moment later her right hand tingled faintly where it touched the other end of the thread. The flavor of the magic told her the pattern was correct. Carefully she laid either end in the dirt, making certain that the two did not touch.
With a wave of her hands the sand shifted, burying the rune and the marks her knees had left behind. Standing up, Shamera surveyed the remains of her gown wryly. If this night’s work didn’t pan out, she was likely to end her life buried in the ragged, dirty silk gown.
She removed the illusion she’d put on the wire. Now that it was covered with sand she didn’t need it, and she didn’t want any hint of magic to warn the demon. As she set a broken cobblestone in the center of the rune, she heard riders approaching. It was too dark to see them, but it could only be Talbot, Halvok, and Elsic. The Shark would have let no other riders through.
Sham closed her eyes and worked a touch of magic.
In the castle Kerim watched the small rune Sham had traced on his chair arm flare briefly. It was time then.
Despite his formidable self-control and his doubts, a touch of battle fever caused a surge of elation. He wiggled his toes inside his boot, just to prove he could, then he grinned at Dickon.
“Get the horses ready,” he said. “It’s time.”
The riders dismounted and handed their horses’ reins to the man who had replaced Vawny an hour or so before. As Shark’s man led the horses away, they approached Sham.
Elsic cradled Maur’s flute in one hand and held fast to Talbot’s arm with the other, a reckless grin plastered on his face. “You really think this will work?”
“No,” said Sham repressively.
If anything, Elsic’s expression brightened. She understood him —it was a good thing to be needed. If the boy were a little older, he wouldn’t have half his confidence in the wild scheme she’d come up with.
“Neither do I,” added Lord Halvok. “If you want to activate your rune, I can work the spells to force the demon to submit to me, for my lifetime anyway.”
“For your short lifetime it would be, if the demon had anything to say about it,” replied Sham without heat—they’d already had this argument when she’d first approached him for help.
“If Shamera’s plan fails, could you try to control it then?” asked Talbot.
Sham shook her head, answering before Halvok could. “No. I have to release the rune that holds the demon in place while I work the spell to send it home. If I fail, it’s not going to be contained—nor is it going to be happy with us. Don’t worry, though, if my spell doesn’t work, the backlash of wild magic will kill us and burn Purgatory to the ground before the demon can do anything to you.”
“Thanks,” said Talbot, with a wry grin, “that’s good to know. I wouldn’t want to be killed by a demon.”
Sham left Talbot talking with Lord Halvok and walked to the edge of the cliffs. Below her was inky blackness. Though there was no moon to see by, she could tell by the silence that the tide was out. The unnatural quiet seemed expectant.
Elsic sealed himself on the ground next to her. His sightless eyes closed, he breathed in the salt air.
Kerim knocked softly at the door, ready to play his part. Although he was honest by nature, acting was the meat of any politician, and he had no fears about his ability. He worried about hurting Sky, though, and she’d been hurt enough.
“Who is it?” Sky’s voice sounded husky with sleep.
“Kerim.” There was a pause, and Kerim could almost hear her thinking.
“My Lord?” The door opened partially, and she peered through. Her sleeping gown was sheer and inviting.
Kerim gave her his best boyish grin. “Do you know what day it is?”
“No, My Lord,” she smiled with a hint of shyness.
Looking at her, he found it even harder to believe that Sham was right. He had a feeling that he was going to be apologizing to Sky before the night was over.
“It’s the day the Spirit Tide breaks. Have you ever seen it at night?”
“No, My Lord.”
“Well, get dressed then. You have to see this. I know you’re not up to a strenuous ride yet, but we’ll take a gentle horse for you —I have one with paces as smooth as cream ... and I believe I owe you an apology for last night.”
She drew herself up. “What about Lady Shamera?”
Kerim allowed a sad smile to cross his face. “Ah—Lady Shamera ... Perhaps you could put on a dressing robe and I’ll come in and tell you about her. The hail is not the place for it—I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
The door shut momentarily; when Sky opened it again, she was decently covered in an ivory silk bedrobe.
“Come in, my lord.”
He slipped by her, a difficult thing to do gracefully with his crutches but much easier than the wheeled chair, and took up residence on a uncomfortable wooden stool. She looked from him to the only other seat in the room, a padded loveseat, and smiled before she sat in it.
“You were going to tell me about Lady Shamera?”
“Yes,” he sighed and looked at his feet before turning his gaze to hers. “I am not her first protector, you know. She enjoys men. I met her soon after you came here, and I think that it was knowing that I had to leave you alone that drew me to her.”
“But I was crippled and it was getting worse.” He swallowed heavily and continued in almost a whisper. “I knew that Ven loved you, and would make an admirable husband and father. The child ... the child was mine, wasn’t it?” He didn’t have to feign the sadness in his voice: the poor babe, doomed by demons and wizards long dead or by mischance, he supposed it didn’t matter which.
“I thought I was dying. I could see no good in making you a widow a second time, so I went looking for something to put between us—and I found Shamera.” He played with the top of his left crutch. “Then I began to recover.”
“I noticed that you have been getting better, my lord. Can you tell me why?”
He hesitated and managed to look frustrated and slightly guilty. “That’s the truly odd part, and I’m not certain it is my secret to tell.”
“My lord,” she said meeting his eyes squarely. “Anything you say will stay with me.”
He gave her a measuring glance, then nodded as if in sudden decision. “Late one night, when one of the cramping spells began, Shamera came in and ... worked magic.” He let some of the wonder he had felt creep into his voice. “I would not have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself. Shamera has told me that the wizards are largely fled from here, though there are a few, like her, who hide what they are.”
“Did she find out who did that to you?”
Kerim nodded his head, even while the meaning of the mistake she’d just made washed over him. He’d never told Sky that Sham had been undoing a spell laid upon him—just that she’d worked magic. “She seems to think so,” he said smoothly. “After the High Priest died—and this is the strangest part. I’m not sure I’d believe it if Shamera hadn’t had Brother Fykall to back her up—something took over his body, or wore his shape. Shamera says that it was a demon. It made the mistake of going to the Temple of Altis, and brother Fykall destroyed it.”
Sky’s mouth tightened with anger momentarily. If he hadn’t been watching her closely, he would have missed it. The guilt that he’d been feeling for misleading Sky all but melted away.
“I owe Shamera a great deal—my health, and even my life. But —” he looked down, as if caught by shyness. “—I don’t love her. Last night made me realize that I had to talk to her, and tell her how I felt. I’d already left it too long; I was afraid I would hurt her.”