Revelation (43 page)

“Then, how will you get him out?” Denas said. “Has anyone, in their mindless determination to use this cursed ylad, come up with a way to get a human out of Kir’Vagonoth? We should make our own passage to the human world and find someone there to use.”

“The Gastai claim the yddrass himself knows a way. If he truly came here of his own will, it would make sense. And once we have him under control, we’ll know it, too. It’s foolish to gamble that we might find a suitable partner in the human world. We must use this one, Denas. He is the most powerful of their kind. Gennod is sure he can open Kir’Navarrin. Then we will be the masters of our own fates once again.”

“My aims are the same as yours. But the rest of the
pandye gash
are still in the way. Rhadit underestimates the villains.”

“They have few warriors left—and those weak and inexperienced I’ve heard. Since this one fell into our hands—”

Golden lightning streaked the shadowed ceiling. “If Rhadit believes that was an accident—or that an yddrass has come in truce or for sanctuary as he claims—then he is as mad as those in the pits. This ylad has powers we’ve never seen in any other. He’s likely telling his fellows everything he learns of us. The
pandye gash
want to send us back to the dark times. I won’t do that again.”

“All the more reason to use this one. I’ll force him myself if that’s what it takes.” Denas’s conspirator sounded like no one I wanted to meet. “Nesfarro has said he is willing to sacrifice himself for the joining. Kryddon would be better. He has more intelligence, if not the strength of Nesfarro. I’ve heard whispers that Gennod will do it. Imagine it, Denas, one of our own circle! Success will be assured with a Nevai and an ylad of such power. Rhadit favors him—some say Gennod is the fire behind Rhadit—so perhaps he would not be so willing under your banner.”

I tried to become one of the shadows. From my cowering vantage I could not see who was the other demon, and there was not motive enough in the universe to make me move. Only Denas was visible beyond the vine-festooned columns, the dark hurricane still pent up behind his glimmering gold light.

“It doesn’t matter which ylad we use; many of the cursed
pandye gash
have power enough. And it doesn’t matter which of us joins. Once the way to Kir’Navarrin is open, I’ll kill the perverted creature, no matter whether it is Gennod or you or anyone. What matters is who leads. We have only one chance, and I’ll not see it wasted with weakness or incompetence.”

“The dark times will be nothing to what will become of us if we don’t do something soon, Denas. We’ve just had to force another cadre into the pits. They were destroying their hosts before taking anything from them. We need to move quickly . . . so either give Rhadit this prisoner to use or kill the vermin. He destroyed the Naghidda. We don’t want any ylad with that kind of power lurking behind us.”

“I would gladly throw him back into the pits,” said the golden lord, “but Vallyne will not give him up. She would go hunt with the brutes before she obliged me with a step out of her way.”

“Of all times for you and the lady to quarrel.”

“Either way, it is my game, not Rhadit’s. Rhadit is dead already, as is anyone else who thinks to go in my rightful place. My assassin will see to it when the time is right.”

“By the Nameless, Denas! You’re more determined than I thought.”

“I will lead. No one but I.”

“Come, let’s go talk to the others. . . .”

Hurrying footsteps faded, and the green and gold light vanished, leaving the book-room dim and gray once more. I lay prostrate on the floor for the best part of an hour, and when I got up the nerve to creep down the stairs, a kayeet could not have scurried back to its desert den any faster than I raced back to my room. They were speaking of Wardens. Of Ezzarians. They were afraid of us, and that was good. Afraid of me, which was not so good, especially as I knew there was so little reason for it. What was this thing the demons wanted of me? I pulled out my writing paper, and under Day 12, wrote,
Beware of Denas. What is Kir’Navarrin?

 

Denas remained an angry mystery. Why he had pulled me from the pits or allowed Merryt to do so, I was not told. As I had heard him claim he wished to kill me or send me back to the mad Gastai, it seemed odd. Nevertheless I held a spot of gratitude ready for him should he ever decide to accept it from a human.

Only Denas of all the demons could put Vallyne out of sorts. One day when she was particularly irritated with him—ostensibly for using her servants for his own tasks—Vallyne had me accompany her to a vast, empty courtyard in the heart of the castle, a torchlit practice arena where Denas and others of the Nevai worked at fighting skills. We watched from tiered viewing stands as the demons battled each other in various beast forms and with such bloody mayhem that I was sickened by it—the more so when I found myself critiquing their form and thinking of more efficient alternatives to their attacks. They did not die from their combat. The victors simply reshaped their bodies and walked away. Vallyne said that those most damaged would be unable to shape themselves a body until they had recovered.

Denas defeated every opponent decisively, demonstrating exceptional strength and endurance, and awesome skill in shaping himself into a beast of war. Seldom had I witnessed such ferocious, single-minded devotion to destruction. I could not but measure his prowess against my own—an unsettling exercise. I hoped I would never have to test myself against him. I wondered if that was perhaps the true purpose of my presence, for Vallyne certainly did not enjoy the activity. As we left the venue, I asked her why we had come.

“It torments Denas when I watch,” she said. “And to have you with me makes it all the sweeter. He so dislikes taking a solid shape of any kind, and to do so in front of an yddrass . . . He would rather spend his entire existence with the Gastai.”

“Then, why does he do it?” I said. “And what enjoyment is there in doing something you dislike so much only to goad one who already spoils your pleasures?” For myself I found Denas’s rage unnerving.

“Our existence depends on our ability to fight,” she said. “And those who fight for us are going mad. Soon, if nothing is done, we may all be going out hunting. I will credit Denas that he does not ask anything of others that he will not do himself.” She glanced over her shoulder to see Denas in a bear shape rake a giant cat with steel claws. “As for my own pleasure . . . Denas has chosen to go his way without concern for it. And so I take enjoyment where I may.”

I tried to ask more questions, but she refused to answer, and I soon forgot them.

Nothing was simple in Kir’Vagonoth. Nothing was as it seemed, and the relationship of my mistress and the demon lord was no exception. A few days after our venture to the practice arena, Vallyne gathered a small group in a sumptuously furnished sitting room very near my own apartment. A circle of tall candles filled the room with the smoky scent of autumn grass fires—and the guests and I were seated on silken cushions inside the ring. I was just beginning the second tale in my book, when someone burst through a distant door and called out from the shadows, “Feasting this hour, Vallyne!”

“Denas!” Vallyne jumped to her feet, strangely unsettled by the sudden interruption. “I told you I was having guests.” The four demons who reclined on Vallyne’s pillows murmured to each other, raised their eyebrows, and vanished quickly. I stood up, curious at the abrupt intrusion and ready, as always, to do the lady’s bidding.

“Forget this madness and come with me, Vallyne.” The golden demon came into view just beyond the circle of candlelight.

“I have company enough, my lord.” Vallyne wrapped her arms around one of mine.

Perhaps it was because of my own experience with the lady that I recognized the yearning in Denas’s invitation. And so I also understood something of the fury that clouded his broad face when he saw me there. He clearly did not expect it.

“Send him away,” he said. No winter’s frost could have been more sudden or more bitter than his change from warm invitation to cold command.

“He’s coming with me.”

“He has no place in this.”

Vallyne did not move, and in the moment’s pause, I felt such a struggle of wills that I thought the candle flames might bend with it. “He has cast his lot with us of his own choice, Denas. And he is your gyos. Where else should your guest be but with us?”

“With his own kind. In Kir’Zarra with sun and rain and trees that move in the wind. Not here. Not tonight. I’ll kill him if I see him near the feast.”

“He is mine—”

“I’ll kill him, Vallyne. Don’t bring him.” Denas whirled about and vanished, the wind of his passing snuffing the candle flames.

“My lord is a bit testy tonight,” said Vallyne, sighing and relinquishing my arm. “Though I care nothing for his pleasures and think it time you shared more of our life, I would not have you dead from it. Perhaps you had best go to your room. And, Exile . . .”

“Yes, my lady?”

“Stay there until Raddoman comes for you. I command it. Things will go harshly if you disobey.”

“I would not distress you in any way, lady.”

She lay her cold hand on my cheek and explored my face with a trace of sorrow quite at odds with her usual cheer. “You are not at all what I expected, Exile.” Her physical body dissolved, leaving only her silvered shimmer.

“Nor you, madam.” I swept a wide bow that drew my cloak through her gleaming shape and left my empty hand poised beneath the image of hers. I bent my head toward her hand, then gave a sigh of my own, slightly exaggerated. “What man is comfortable kissing his own hand or laying his heart at the feet of the lightning?”

She laughed gaily, and I returned to my room planning to relive the sound of it until I fell asleep.

Just before I dozed off, someone slipped quietly through the door. I held still and wary in my nook, watching for the telltale demon light that would reveal the identity of my visitor. But instead of light, it was a bulky, dense form draped in shadow that crept around the stacked furniture—Merryt.

“Are you awake, brother?”

“Aye,” I said. “At least half. And glad for company.” I was happy to see someone who did not flicker out of view when I was nearby.

“I’m not here for society,” he said, squatting on his haunches by my bed and casting nervous glances over his shoulder. “I thought I might take you on a short journey. See where your loyalties lie. See if you want to know the truth of demons.”

“Truth . . . yes, I came for truth, but . . .”

“They’re at their feeding in the black heart of this pile of ice. No artifice. No pretending they are kin to humankind. If you seek truth, it’s there to find. We’ll need to be quick and quiet.”

Amid the echoes of Vallyne’s sweet laughter was her very serious command,
Stay there until Raddoman comes for you. . . .
I looked away from Merryt’s probing eyes and down at my hands that still trembled like those of a thief sprawled at the Derzhi Emperor’s feet. “I cannot.”

“You cannot?” The big man paused only for a moment. “Ah. I see.” He stood up and started for the door. “I’ve heard she keeps you close reined, flaunting you in front of Denas until he is half mad with it. But I never expected you’d be a willing slave. Clearly the Gastai tales of you are exaggerated.”

“I was commanded,” I said. But he was already gone.

Commanded. My own word stung deeper than Merryt’s assumption of cowardice. I had been commanded to inaction by a demon woman who held me captive with beauty and laughter. No matter what lay beyond the barriers of my damaged memory, I could not have come to the realm of demons to find a lover. I was a Warden of Ezzaria. Ignoring the nervous sickness that accompanied my newfound resolution, I jumped up and ran after Merryt.

“You’re right,” I blurted out as I caught up to him in a gloomy passage.

He whirled around, fists raised, and broke out laughing at my nervous flinch. “So you’re willing to risk a lovers’ quarrel to see her true face, eh? I’ll warn you. It may be you risk more than that. I was caught watching the demons’ feasting once . . .” He held up his mutilated hands. “Are you willing, Exile?”

“I came to learn. So teach me.” My words were very confidant and brave. Also quite misleading. I was terrified.

Merryt motioned me to follow in silence and caution. We crept through the cold gray warren like castle mice, pausing at every turn, skittering past doorways, hiding at every noise. No one was about. Only once did we have a close call. We were just about to step into a small courtyard, when Merryt abruptly shoved me into a dark niche and squeezed himself in beside me. He was a great deal more nervous than he showed. His heart was racing, and his shirt was damp and stinking with sweat. Three guards hurried across the snowy yard and took up positions beside a pair of double doors. Slowly we retreated back the way we’d come, and found a longer route that bypassed the courtyard.