“That remains to be seen.”
Tarja glared at the two Harshini suspiciously. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Demons are bonded to Harshini through their bloodlines,” Shananara explained. “Dranymire and the demons can feel the link with R’shiel, just as she can feel the link with them, although she may not recognize it as such.”
If he suspended all disbelief, Tarja found her explanation easy enough to follow. “So if she is bonded to the same demons as you, R’shiel is related to you?” he asked, not sure why that should be such a cause for concern.
The Harshini woman nodded. “So it would seem.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“She’s half-human,” Brak pointed out, watching the girl and the demons with an unreadable expression.
“I’d already worked that out. What’s the problem?”
Brak turned from watching R’shiel and the demons. “It’s the family she comes from. Shananara’s full title is Her Royal Highness, Princess Shananara te Ortyn. Her brother is our King, Korandellen.”
Tarja was not surprised to find out R’shiel was of royal blood. It almost seemed fitting, somehow. But the thought did not seem to please Brak or Shananara very much.
“That’s not the problem though, is it?” he asked intuitively.
“Actually, it is,” Shananara told him. “She is Lorandranek’s child.”
The name struck a chord in Tarja’s mind. He recalled what he had heard about Lorandranek and turned to Shananara, his eyes wide. Seeing from his expression that he had made the connection, the Harshini woman nodded.
“That’s right. She is the half-human child of a Harshini King.”
“Behold the demon child,” Brak muttered darkly.
Brak surveyed the destruction Tarja and his Fardohnyan allies had wrought with a shake of his head. “Does the expression ‘minimum force’ mean anything to you?” he asked.
Tarja frowned at the implied criticism. “About as much as ‘you can count on me’ means to you.”
“You killed the priest, then?” He walked over to the shore, where the body of the Karien priest lay. The river had washed the blood from the corpse. In death he looked barely human, like a flaccid, blue sea creature brought up from the depths.
“Drendik killed him.”
“What happened to his staff?”
“R’shiel destroyed it.”
Brak looked at him sharply. “She
“She destroyed it. Smashed it against the mizzenmast. That’s what set the ship on fire. How she burned her hands.”
“Gods!” Brak muttered. The Harshini turned and headed toward the demons, leaving Tarja standing by the bloated corpse.
“What?” Tarja called after him.
Brak made no reply. He just kept walking.
The she-dragon was amusing herself by talking to the Fardohnyans, who stood before her reverently, like worshippers at a huge, animated altar. The demons that had been the other dragon had dispersed into smaller clusters, constantly changing shapes in a way that made Tarja’s head swim. They seemed to be entertaining themselves by changing into numerous other forms, as simple as birds or small rodents in some cases. A few of the larger groups appeared to be attempting more complex forms that changed with blinding speed and were only sometimes recognizable as creatures of the world Tarja was familiar with. As they approached, a small figure detached itself from one of the groups and waddled over to them.
“Something disturbs you, Lord Brakandaran?” the demon asked. The same booming voice that had belonged to the dragon sounded bizarre coming from this grotesque little gnome. Brak bowed to the demon respectfully, which surprised Tarja a little. It was odd seeing him so humble in the presence of an ugly little imp who only came up to his knee.
“If I may seek your counsel, Wise One?”
Tarja wondered at Brak’s sudden turn of manners.
“I will help if I can,” the demon agreed. “What is it that troubles you?”
“R’shiel destroyed the Karien priest’s staff.”
“The Staff of Xaphista is not a thing to be tampered with lightly.” Tarja could have sworn the wrinkled face, with its too-big eyes, was furrowed with concern. “Was the priest already dead?”
Brak glanced over his shoulder at Tarja questioningly.
“No,” Tarja told them, walking forward to stand next to Brak. “Drendik killed him after she smashed it.”
Lord Dranymire was silent for a moment. “She is of te Ortyn blood,” the demon said eventually.
“Does that matter?” Tarja asked. There seemed to be so much that Brak and the demon knew, it was as if they were only having half a conversation, leaving out all the important bits.
“All magic is connected through the gods,” the demon explained. “Xaphista is an Incidental God, but a god, nonetheless, like any other.”
Sensing his lack of understanding, Brak finally, if a little reluctantly, came to Tarja’s rescue. “He means that Xaphista would have felt the staff being destroyed. If the priest was still alive when it happened, then he could have used the priest to discover the identity of the destroyer.”
“So the Karien god knows who R’shiel is?” Tarja asked.
“Xaphista has probably known of the demon child’s existence for some time.”
“The priest’s vision!” Tarja exclaimed. “Elfron said he had a vision about R’shiel. That’s why they wanted her!”
“Xaphista knows the demon child is coming,” the demon agreed.
“But why should that bother him?” Tarja asked. He had given up trying to puzzle out whether or not the gods existed. It was easier, at the moment, just to assume that they did.
“Because she was created to destroy him,” Brak said.
“You want R’shiel to destroy a god? You can’t be serious!”
“This has nothing to do with you, Tarja. If you have any sense at all, you will just walk away and leave her be. You don’t believe in the gods, even though you’ve met one. You simply aren’t equipped to handle this. Leave it to those of us who know what we’re facing.”
Tarja looked back at the Fardohnyan riverboat, where Shananara had disappeared with R’shiel several hours ago. The two women had not emerged since.
“I won’t let you do this to her.”
“The decision is not yours, human,” Dranymire reminded him. “It is up to the child. Only she can decide to take up the task for which she was created.”
“And what if she refuses?” Tarja asked. Brak did not answer him, but glanced at the demon who turned his wrinkled head away. Dread washed over him as he read the reluctance of the Harshini and the demon to answer his question. He grabbed Brak by his leather vest and pulled him close, until their faces were only inches apart. “What happens if she refuses?”
Brak met Tarja’s threatening gaze, undaunted by his anger. “It’s not up to me, Tarja. I’m not her judge.”
Tarja let Brak go with a shove. “Not her judge, perhaps. More like her executioner, I suspect.”
Brak shook his head, but he did not deny the charge.
chapter 53
