The Demon's Covenant

When Sin spoke, it was not to Gerald.

“Is it true?”

“Yes,” Merris said distantly.

Mae couldn’t look at Merris. It was almost too much to look at Sin.

“Why,” said Sin, and her voice trembled, “why did you not tell me?”

The knives in her hands trembled too, and Alan’s voice lashed out in a command. “Hold fast!”

“Don’t you dare give me orders, you filthy traitor,” Sin snarled, her dark eyes narrowing. Her knives did not tremble again.

There was something rising in Gerald, like the wind rising as it came in from the sea and sent chills rushing down Mae’s neck.

Toby began to cry, a long, thin, despairing sound. Mae rocked him and pleaded with him quietly, desperately afraid that he was going to distract Sin at exactly the wrong moment.

There were flashes of magic running through all of Gerald’s skin now, not just his hands: like veins of gold in rock, like the sun’s rays painted faint across the sky.

“Listen to me, Merris,” said Gerald, turning his face to her as magic’s shining fingers stroked up his jaw. “You don’t have to die. I can save you.”

“Can you?” asked Merris, her voice very calm. “And what would you want in return?”

There were sparks of golden magic bursting from Gerald’s lips. The words kept spilling out too.

“A truce. The Market isn’t getting anywhere fighting magicians. Don’t pretend that the good fight is what you care about either. The Goblin Market is a business, and I have no quarrel with that. Stop selling talismans to tourists, stop taking off their marks, and I’ll make it worth your while: There could be magic in your market that you don’t dream of now. All I want is to remove a nuisance from my life.”

“And all I want is to remove some of your important appendages,” Sin panted. “Is that wrong?”

She and Alan were both breathing hard, their knives taking on some of Gerald’s luminescence and apparently trying to bend backward in their hands. Gerald made a single gesture, palm up, and for a moment the very air around him was flooded with gold. The knives flew out of their hands. Sin and Alan were both knocked onto their backs.

The child in Mae’s arms screamed. Merris Cromwell moved forward to meet Gerald.

“Think it over,” Gerald told her, smiling. “You know where to find me.”

Sin was on her feet already, dancer-swift. She paused as she passed Alan and then gave him her hand. He took it, gritted his teeth, and hauled himself up with her help. Mae saw his shoulders set and his refusal to flinch.

They fell on Gerald like wolves, bringing him down at Merris’s feet. Gerald struck out with a fistful of magic, and Alan made a hoarse sound. Sin put a knee in Gerald’s stomach and leaned down hard, her knife pointed at his throat. Her robe was red ribbons attached to her neck and wrist, streaming out like blood-colored banners. Beneath was a white shift, streaked with blood and dirt, rising and falling fast as she panted out, “I’m tired of you,” and brought the knife down for what Mae recognized as a killing blow.

Gerald threw magic at her chest, and Sin fell back with a scorched smell in the air. Mae started forward.

“Mae, no,” Sin yelled. “Toby—”

Mae halted her charge and hung on to the howling child hard to stop herself from just putting him down and running in anyhow.

Gerald was on his feet again. So was Alan, a knife in hand and then in Gerald’s shoulder.

“He’s mine, Ryves,” Sin grated, staggering up.

Alan’s eyes narrowed. “I’m willing to share.”

“I didn’t want to have to do this,” Gerald told them quietly.

The cold note in his voice had Mae turning from him even as he lifted his hand. She started running away with her back to him, shielding the baby.

Something hit Mae from behind. She went tumbling to the ground, trying to guard Toby, and found Sin on top of her with her hair come loose and streaming around Mae’s face.

“Shh, sweetheart, my darling, it’s okay,” said Sin, and Toby unclenched his fat, clinging fists from Mae’s shirt and turned between them, bawling and snotty, to grab at Sin. Sin detached herself from Mae, sitting on the ground with her arms around her brother.

Better her than me, Mae thought, and clambered to her feet to see what was happening.

Alan had another knife in hand, driving in toward Gerald’s gut. Gerald sent a bolt of magic from his fingertips to Alan’s bad leg, and Alan gave a low scream and hit the ground.

Sin swore, shoved Toby at Mae—oh, not again—and ran back to them. Mae followed her even as Toby’s wailing started up again in her ear.

Merris Cromwell had a large ceremonial knife in her hand. Mae slackened her pace a fraction, relieved, and then saw Merris step back, lowering the knife.

Gerald said one last thing to Merris that Mae could not catch, and turned and ran.

Alan seized up one of his throwing knives from where it lay on the grass.

Merris shouted, “Don’t kill him!”