'You're certain you people can keep him -- or should I say her? -- from any more trouble?' she asked doubtfully of her erstwhile debating partner as Kethry shook off her weariness and looked up at them. To the sorceress' profound gratitude, Tarma looked to be most of the way back to normal -- a rapid recovery, but Kethry was used to rapid recovcries from the Shin'a'in. The face she turned to Kethry was calm and sane once again, with a hint of her old sense of humor. She reached out a hand, and Tarma caught it and squeezed it once, without taking her attention from the priest.
'Sworn One, we are placing every safeguard known to mortal man upon her and the place where we shall keep her,' the little priest said soberly. 'The being Thalhkarsh shall have no opportunity for escape. Her only chance will be to truly change, for the spells we shall use will not hold against an angelic spirit, only one of evil intent. Truly you have given us the opportunity we have long dreamed of.'
'Well,' Tarma actually grinned, though it was weakly. 'After all, it isn't every day someone can present you with a captive demon to preach to. Not to put too fine a point on it, we're giving you folk a chance to prove yourselves.' She managed a ghost of a chuckle. 'Though I'll admit I had no notion you were capable of restraining demons so handily.'
'As you yourself pointed out, Sworn One, when one goes to preach to demons, the preacher had best be either agile or a very fine magician.' The balding priest's brown eyes vanished in smile wrinkles. 'And as your partner has rightly told me, while Thalhkarsh seems helpless now, there is no guarantee that she will remain so. We prefer to take no chance. As you say, this is our unlooked-for opportunity to prove the truth of our way to the entire world, and as such, we are grateful to you beyond telling.'
With that, the little priest bowed to both of them, and his train of underlings brought the once-demon to her feet, bound by spells that at the moment were scarcely needed. She was numbly submissive, and they guided her out the way they had come, bound for their own temple.
Kethry got to her feet and silently held out her hand to Tarma, who took it once again with no sign of resentment, and pulled herself to her feet by it.
They left the scene of slaughter without a backward glance, moving as quickly as their aching bodies would allow, eager to get out into the clean air.
'Warrior's Oath -- how long have we been in there?' Tar ma exclaimed on seeing the thin sliver of moon and the positions of the stars.
'About twenty-four candlemarks. It's tomorrow morning. Is -- that's not your sword, is it?' Kethry, lagging a little behind, saw that the shape strapped to Tarma's back was all wrong.
' 'No disaster without some benefit,' she'enedra,' Tarma lifted a hand to caress the unfamiliar hilt. 'I've never in my life had a weapon like this one. There's no magic to it beyond exquisite balance, fantastic design, and the finest steel I've ever seen, but it is without a doubt the best blade I've ever used. It acted like part of my arm -- and you're going to have to cut off that arm to get it away from me!'
Briefly alarmed by her vehemence, Kethry stretched weary mage-senses one more time, fearing to find that the blade was some kind of ensorcelled trap, or bore a curse.
She found nothing, and sighed with relief. Tarma was right, there was no hint of magic about the blade, and her partner's reaction was nothing more than that of any warrior who has just discovered her ideal dreamed-of weapon.
They limped painfully back to their inn with Warrl trailing behind as guard against night-thugs, stopping now and then to rest against a handy wall or building. The night-watch recognized Kethry and waved them on. The cool, clean air was heavenly after the incense and perfume-laden choke of the temple. When they finally reached their inn, they used the latchstring on their window to let themselves back inside and felt their way into their room with only the banked embers of the hearthfire for light. Kethry expended a last bit of magepower and lit a candle, while Tarma dropped her weapons wearily. Beds had never looked so inviting before. And yet, neither was quite ready to sleep.
'This time we've really done it, haven't we?' Tarma ventured, easing her 'borrowed' boots off her feet and pitching them out the open window for whoever should find them in the morning to carry away. She stripped as quickly as her cuts and bruises would permit, and the clothing followed the boots as the Shin'a'in grimaced in distaste; Kethry handed her clean breeches and an undertunic from her pack and Tarma eased herself into them with a sigh and numerous winces.
'You mean, we've locked him up for good? I think so; at least insofar as I can ever be sure of anything. And we aren't going to make the mistake of forgetting about him again.'
'Lady Bright, not bloody likely!' Tarma shuddered. 'We'll be getting messages from the Temple every two months, like clockwork; that was part of the agreement I made with little Nemor. Huh, think of him as archpriest -- seems logical now, but he sure doesn't look the part.'
'Until he puts on the authority. I could almost feel sorry for old Thalhkarsh. I can't imagine a worse punishment for a demon than to have sweetness-and-light preached at him for as long as he lives -- which might well be forever.'
'And besides -- ' Tarma smiled, getting up with a muffled groan and another grimace, and walking over to the window. She leaned out, letting the breeze lift her hair and cool her face. 'Who knows? They might succeed in redeeming him....'
