down her cheeks.
'My god, my god -- ' she wept, 'Oh, Tarma, you were right! We should have gone for help.'
She tried to take her oathkin in her arms, but it was like holding a stiff, wooden doll.
'If I hadn't been so damned sure of myself -- if I hadn't been so determined to prove you were smothering me -- it's all my fault, it's all my fault! What have I done? What has my pride done to you?'
And Tarma rocked and crooned, oblivious to everything around her, while she wept with absolute despair.
Eleven
You lied to me, you bastard!' Green eyes blazed passionately with anger.
'You didn't listen carefully enough,' Thalhkarsh replied to the amber-haired hellion whom he had backed into a corner of his 'couch.' 'I said I would change your form; I never said what I would change it into.'
'You never had any intention of changing me back to a man!' Lastel choked, sagging to the padded platform, almost incoherent with rage.
'Quite right.' The demon grinned maliciously as he sat himself cross-legged on the padded platform, carefully positioning himself so as to make escape impossible. 'Your emotions are strong; you are a potent source of power for me, and an ever-renewable source. I had no intention of letting you free of me while I still need you.' He arranged himself more comfortably with the aid of a cushion or two; he had Lastel neatly pinned, and his otherworldly strength and speed would enable him to counter any move the woman made.
'Then when?'
'When shall I release you? Fool, don't you ever think past the immediate moment?' For once the molten- bronze face lost its mocking expression; the glowing red-gold eyes looked frustrated. 'Why should you want release? What would you do if I gave you back your previous form -- where would you go? Back to your wastelands, back to misery, back to petty theft? Back to a life with every man's hand against you, having to hide like a desert rat? Is that what you want?'
'I_'
'Fool; blind, stupid fool! Your lust for power is nearly as great as my own, yet you could accomplish nothing by yourself and everything with my aid!' the demon rose to his feet, gesticulating. 'Think -- for one moment, think! You are in a mageTalented body now; one in which the currents of arcane power flow strongly. You could have me as a patron. You could have all the advantages of being my own High Prelate when I am made a god! And you wish to throw this all away? Simply because you do not care for the responses of a perfectly healthy and attractive body?'
'But it isn't mine! It's a woman!' Lastel shrank back into the corner, wailing. 'I don't want this body -- '
'But I want you in it. I desire you, creature I have made; I want you in a form attractive to me.' The demon came closer and placed his hands on the walls to either side of Lastel, effectively rendering her immobile. 'Your emotions run so high, and taste so sweetly to me that I sometimes think I shall never release you.'
'Why?' Lastel whispered. 'Why me, why this? And why here? I thought all your kind hated this world.'
'Not I.' The demon's eyes smoldered as his expression turned thoughtful. 'Your world is beautiful in my eyes; your people have aroused more than my hunger, they have aroused my desire. I want this world, and I want the people in it! And I will have it! Just as I shall have you.'
'No -- ' Lastel whimpered.
'Then I ask in turn, why? Or why not? What have I done save rouse your own passions? You are well fed, well clothed, well housed -- nor have I ever harmed you physically.'
'You're killing me!' Lastel cried, his voice breaking. 'You're destroying my identity! Every time you look at me, every time you touch me, I forget what it was ever like, being a man! All I want is to be your shadow, your servant; I want to exist only for you! I never come back to myself until after you've gone, and it takes longer to remember what I was afterward -- longer every time you do this to me.'
The demon smiled again with his former cruelty, and brought his lips in to brush her neck. 'Then, little toy,' he murmured, 'perhaps it is something best forgotten?'
* * *
Tarma was lost; without sight, without hearing, without senses of any kind. Held there, and drained weak past any hope of fighting back. So tired -- too tired to fight. Too tired to hope, or even care. Emptied of every passion --
