Kethry lifted an eyebrow; Tarma took a largish mouthful of wine. They'd both heard about how Prince Lothar's mages produced his monstrous mindless bodyguards. They'd also heard that the process from normal man to twelve-foot-tall brute was far from pleasant -- or painless. Lothar was sometimes called 'the Looney' -- but never to his face.
The little priest met blue and green eyes in turn, and nodded. 'Besides that,' he continued, 'There are several sects, mine included, who would wish to deal with the demon on other levels. We all want him bound, at the least. But so far it's all rumor. The temple has been empty every time anyone's checked.'
'So you did check?'
'In all conscience, yes -- although the woman didn't seem terribly trustworthy or terribly bright. Pretty, yes -- rather remarkably pretty under the dirt, but she seemed to be in a half-daze all the time. Brother Thoser was the one who questioned her, not I, or I could tell you more. My guess would be that she was of breeding, but had taken to the street to supply an addiction of some sort.'
Tarma nodded thoughtfully.
'Where is this temple?'' Kethry's husky alto almost made the little priest regret his vow of chastity; and when she had moved into the light, and he saw that the sweet face beneath the hood matched the voice, he sighed a little for days long lost.
'Do you know the beggar's quarter? Well then, it's on the river, just downwind of the slaughterhouse and the tannery. It's been deserted since the last acolyte died of old age -- oh, nearly fifteen years ago. It's beginning to fall apart a bit; the last time I looked at it, there didn't seem to be any signs that anyone had entered it in all that time.'
'Is it kept locked up?'
'Oh, yes; not that there's anything to steal -- mostly it's to keep children from playing where they might be hurt by falling masonry. The beggars used it for a bit as one of their meeting halls, before the acolyte died, but,' he chuckled, 'One-Eye Tham told me it was 'too perishin' cold and damp' and they moved to more comfortable surroundings.'
Tarma exchanged a look with her partner; We need to talk, she hand-signed.
Kethry nodded, ever so slightly. We could be in trouble, she signed back.
Tarma's grimace evidenced agreement.
'Well, if you will allow me,' the little priest finished the last of his wine, and shoved the bench back with a scrape, 'I fear I have morning devotions to attend to. As always, Sworn One, the conversation and company have been delightful, if argumentative -- '' Tarma managed a smile; it transformed her face, even if it didn't quite reach her eyes. 'My friend, we have a saying -- it translates something like 'there is room in the universe for every Way.' You travel yours; should you need it, my sword will protect you as I travel mine.'
'That is all anyone could reasonably ask of one who does not share his faith,' he replied, 'And so, good night.'
The two mercenary women finished their own wine and headed for their room shortly after his departure. With Warrl padding after, Kethry took one of the candles from the little table standing by the entrance to the hall, lit it at the lantern above the table, and led the way down the corridor. The wooden walls were polished enough that their light was reflected; they'd been tended to recently and Tarma could still smell the ferris-oil that had been used. The sounds of snoring behind closed doors, the homelike scents of hot wax and ferris-oil, the buzz of conversation from the inn behind them -- all contrasted vividly with the horror that had been resurrected in both their minds at the mention of Thalhkarsh.
Their room held two narrow beds, a rag rug, and a table; all worn, but scrupulously clean. They had specified a room with a window, so Warrl could come and go as he pleased; no one in his right mind would break into the room with any of the three of them in it, and their valuables were in the stable, well-guarded by their well-named warsteeds, Hellsbane and Ironheart.
When the door was closed and bolted behind them, Kethry put the candle in its wall sconce and turned to face her partner with a swish of robes.
'If he's there, if it's really Thalhkarsh, he'll be after us.'
Tarma paced the narrow confines of the room. 'Seems obvious. If I were a demon, I'd want revenge. Well, we knew this might happen someday. I take it that your sword hasn't given you any indication that there's anything wrong?'
'No. At least, nothing more than what you'd expect in a city this size. I wish Need would be a little more discriminating.' Kethry sighed, and one hand caressed the hilt of the blade she wore at her side over her sorceress' robes in an unconscious gesture of habit. 'I absolutely refuse to go sticking my nose into every lover's-quarrel in this town! And -- '
'Warrior's Oath -- remember the first time you tried?' Tarma's grim face lightened into a grin with the recollection.
