“
She laughed again, a rich, throaty laugh that Tarja had not heard from her in a very long time. “It’s bonded to the te Ortyn bloodline and I was the first te Ortyn it saw, I suppose.”
“So... what... it thinks you’re its mother?”
“Demons don’t have mothers, silly. They... just... come into being. She won’t be able to speak or do much at all until she’s melded with the other demons a few times.”
“She?” he wondered doubtfully, as he stared at the androgynous little creature. “How can you tell?”
“I can’t,” R’shiel shrugged, pulling the demon off her neck again as it tried to hide in her long hair. “Demon’s don’t have genders, not really. They just sort of decide along the way somewhere. I just have a feeling this one wants to be a girl.”
“You sound quite the expert.” Nothing could have made the change in R’shiel more obvious, or pointed to what she was, than waking to find a demon in his bed.
“It’s a necessary virtue, when you’ve got demons following you around everywhere you go. You’re lucky there’s only one in the bed. They were as thick as flies in Sanctuary.”
He looked at her curiously, wondering if she would elaborate. She had said little in the days since her sudden return. Not, he thought wryly, that they’d spent a lot of time talking. But her time there had wrought a noticeable change in her. She was more certain of herself. Perhaps she had finally accepted what she was. Perhaps the Harshini had done something to her besides healing the wound that almost killed her, and they had certainly done that well. Not even a hint of a scar marred the golden skin below her breast where Joyhinia had thrust Jenga’s discarded sword into her.
“I can feel it, you know,” she added softly in the darkness, as if she knew what he was thinking. “It’s like there’s a tether linking me to Sanctuary that nothing can break. I think if I was lost in a snowstorm, I’d still be able to find it.” She sighed wistfully. “I used to feel it when I was in the Citadel, but I never knew what it was. Which was probably a blessing,” she added with smile.
He wondered if this was how it would be. Would she tell him, bit by tantalising bit, or would he never hear the whole story of her stay in the magical halls of the Harshini? The little demon started chattering again, pulling on her hair. He knew he would learn nothing more for the time being.
“Is this,” he asked, pointing at the little demon with a scowl, “an event that we can look forward to on a regular basis? Waking to find demons in our bed?”
“It could have been worse, Tarja. There could have been half a dozen of them melded into a cactus, or worse.”
“
“Well, they could have melded into a dragon,” she laughed. “Or a snow cat, or a Karien knight in full armour or a beehive, or a —”
“What?” he cut in abruptly. Something she said sparked the germ of an idea in his mind, but it was elusive. It hovered on the edge of his awareness, just out of reach.
“I was kidding, Tarja,” she said, looking at him oddly. “I’ll speak to Dranymire. He’ll keep the demons out of our bed if it bothers you so much.”
“No, I didn’t mean that. You were talking about the demons melding.”
“But I didn’t really mean they’d do it —”
“But they can meld into anything, can’t they?” he asked, afraid to give voice to the idea in case she thought him insane.
“I suppose,” she agreed, a little doubtfully.
“Or anyone?”
“
Tarja sat up and began pulling on his clothes hurriedly. “Get dressed. We have to talk to Brak.”
“Tarja! What are you up to?”
“I’m not sure yet,” he told her as he tugged on his boots. “I need to talk to Brak first. Hurry up!”
She threw her hands up in disgust, but did as he asked, although she was still lacing her vest as he hurried her out into the chill morning. The little demon had vanished, thankfully – at least Tarja hoped it had. The idea of one of his men waking to find an inquisitive demon poking around in his equipment did not bear thinking about.
“Tarja!” R’shiel demanded as she ran to catch up. “What’s this about?”
“I’ve got an idea, but I need to find out if it’s possible,” he explained, as he strode through the waking camp towards the old Keep. Pink fingers scratched at the sky as dawn clawed its way over the Jagged Mountains.
“Maybe if you shared this brilliant idea, I could tell you.”
He grinned at her as he strode past the guards in front of the Keep, but did not answer. He pushed open the door to the old great hall and strode towards the huge hearth at the far end, and a small figure curled up near the dying embers.
“Boy!” he snapped, jerking the Karien lad awake. “Find Lord Brakandaran and tell him I need to see him urgently!”
The child nodded hastily and scrambled off the hearth. He was running by the time he reached the door.
“You bully! That child is terrified of you!”
“I know,” he agreed, taking the poker to stir some life back into the coals. “I threatened to chop his brother’s fingers off.”
“
He stopped stoking the fire and looked at her. “Because he’s a fanatical believer in the Overlord and if I hadn’t put an end to his antics, somebody would have killed him. Better to be terrified of me and live long enough to reach manhood, than find himself skewered by a Hythrun sword.”
She smiled at him then and moved closer. She smelled of summer and leather and their lovemaking. It was a heady and very distracting combination.
“Don’t you ever get tired of being so damned noble?” she teased.
He found himself unable to think of a suitably witty retort as she slid her arms around his neck and kissed him. He dropped the poker with a clatter as rational thought began to slip away, wondering what else the Harshini had taught her. Either that, or R’shiel had inherited that magical race’s rather legendary libido.
“Can’t you two make up for lost time somewhere else?”
He felt her smile as she broke off the kiss and turned to look at Brak. The Harshini rebel was shaking his head at them. The Karien boy looked mortified.
“Hello Brak,” R’shiel said, making no attempt to leave the circle of his arms. “We weren’t expecting you so soon.”
“That’s obvious. I was heading this way when the boy found me.”
Tarja somewhat reluctantly let R’shiel go and glared at the boy. “Shoo! Go find us some breakfast!”
Mikel nodded wordlessly and fled. Brak watched him go with a frown. “I think you actually enjoy tormenting that child, Tarja.”
“I’m an evil, barbarian bastard. I have a reputation to uphold.”
Brak shook his head at the folly of humans. “The boy said you wanted to see me.”
“I need to know about demon melds,” he explained, throwing a small log on the fire as the exposed embers glowed red in the dim hall. The dawn striped the long chilly hall with slices of dull light and their breath formed small misty clouds as they spoke.
Brak glanced at R’shiel who shrugged, her expression confused.
“Would you care to be a bit more specific?” the Harshini asked. “If we had a week, I could tell you a tenth of what I know.”
“Can they take on a human form?”
“I can’t imagine why they’d want to, but they could do it.”
“Can they imitate people? Take on a specific form?”
Brak’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I’ve got a bad feeling I know where this is leading, Tarja, but yes, they can imitate people. Before you get too enamoured of the idea, let me explain a few things. The more complex the shape, the more demons it takes, and the shorter length of time they can hold the meld. If you’re thinking of doing what I suspect you’re thinking of doing, it won’t work. A human form is hard enough. To create one that walks and
