Shane slumped back in the chair, relieved. “And…the others? At the castle?”
“Mmm.” Marguerite studied the ceiling. “So odd. I could have sworn there were a great many more people there. Clearly I was mistaken, because the paladins were quite embarrassed to discover they’d been laying siege to a castle with all of five defenders. I’m afraid the old lady is the only one who made it, other than you. The priests say she’s not possessed and if anyone starts asking her about the other people there, she starts telling them stories about her youth. Very spicy stories, I’m told.”
Shane’s breath went out in a long sigh. Wisdom’s people had done what they set out to do. He might mourn for Erlick and the others, but they had chosen their path, and because of it, their families were together, and free.
Guilt stabbed him. If he was a paladin of the Dreaming God, surely he should tell the priests about the settlement?
And then, like an echo under his heart, I am not used to owing a demon a favor. It is not a comfortable thought.
No. My God knows what I did. It was the right thing, or as close to the right thing as I was capable of. Wasn’t it?
He reached for the presence of the god, suddenly frightened that he had misunderstood everything.
Silver fire under his heart. The feel of some great Other, just on the far side. He couldn’t hold the touch for long—everything still felt raw and scalded—but it was enough.
Oh Dreaming God. It was real. You were real.
Marguerite silently passed him a handkerchief and he mopped his cheeks. “It was real,” he said hoarsely. “It was all real.”
She squeezed his hand. “It was.” She turned her gaze to the ceiling, the dark beams cutting across the plaster. “Everyone’s been worried. The healers said it was just strain, but you were asleep for so long.” She snorted. “Wren’s been going out of her mind. She eventually took over the kitchen here and started baking things. I didn’t even know she could bake.”
Shane turned his hand to grasp hers, and she didn’t pull away. “Were you worried?” he asked, needing desperately to hear the answer but afraid of what it might be.
“I wasn’t,” she said. And then, before his heart had time to sink, “I knew you’d come back to me.”
“Oh,” said Shane, feeling very much as if he, too, had been hit with a board.
The door opened and two people came in. One wore the rumpled robes of an acolyte but the vestments of a very senior priestess, and the other was Jorge.
Jorge let out a shout, thumped him enthusiastically on the shoulder and probably would have done more, except that the priestess said, “If you’re going to beat my patient, I’ll have you thrown out.”
“Sorry, sorry.” Jorge shot her an apologetic look then turned back to Shane. “I’m just relieved that you’re here and your brains aren’t scrambled.” He froze. “Um…they aren’t, are they? There was kind of a lot going on.”
The priestess sighed in a manner that reminded Shane faintly of a god. “Tact, as always, is your strong suit, Jorge.” She waved him away. He joined Marguerite sitting on the bed, and the priestess took Shane’s hand, curling her fingers over his wrist. “Still, it’s a good question. How do you feel?”
“Intensely hungover,” Shane admitted.
She snorted. “Yeah, that’s normal. Being god-touched may be good for the soul, but the body still has to carry that soul around.” She sat back. “I’m Gwen. I’m in charge of the infirmary here, for my sins. How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Four.”
“Good. Are you hearing gibbering demonic voices in the back of your head?”
“No?”
“Even better. Feeling hungry?”
Shane had to think about that one. “I’m not sure. I think if I had food in front of me, I would be?”
“Right.” She stood up, made a futile attempt to smooth down her wrinkled robes, then gave up.
“I’ll have something sent up. You’re probably going to sleep more for the next day or two, and I’m sure you’re sore as hell from that battle, but you should be fine.”
“Are they still going to try to exorcise me?” he asked warily.
“God, no!” She made a warding gesture. “We only do that to drive a demon out. I’m told a demonic taint was clinging to you, but it’s gone now. Wish I knew how to do that.”
“And…ah…” He touched his breastbone. “The god is there, but everything feels raw.”
Gwen folded her arms and leaned against the wall, her lips twisting. “So far as I can tell from what everyone has said, you had part of your soul ripped out a few years ago, then a demon forced its way in, then the Dreaming God ripped that out and claimed you as a paladin and briefly made you His avatar so He could shout at everyone. And you’re surprised that things are a little sore?”
Marguerite snickered. Shane stared at the priestess, too worried by the word avatar to even protest.
“You’ll be fine. You just…I don’t know, sprained your soul. Stay off it for a few weeks.” Gwen waved her hand. “If it doesn’t stop hurting, come talk to me. Quit snickering, Jorge, or I’ll tell everyone about that ‘personal problem’ I cleared up for you last year.”
Jorge immediately clammed up. The priestess shook her head and bid them farewell.
“I like her,” said Marguerite.
“She’s superb,” Jorge said. “You couldn’t be in better hands.” He turned back to Shane. “I’m very glad you’re feeling better. I wanted to apologize to you.”
“Eh?” Shane blinked at him. “I should be apologizing to you. You had to storm a keep because of me.”
“Yes, but…” Jorge raked his hands through his hair. “But that was because of the demon. But then, after…I might have let them kill you!”
“You didn’t, though.”
“But I didn’t stop them. Hell, I offered you the sword.”
“Which was probably the right thing to do at the time,” Shane pointed out. “It’s not like you knew that the Dreaming God was going to take a personal interest. I certainly didn’t.”
Jorge looked unconvinced. Shane cast a look of mute appeal at Marguerite, who did not let him down.
“If you want to be ashamed of something, be ashamed of this intelligence network of yours.
Wisdom was up there for years and you missed it? And it’s not as if it was hiding all that well. The locals all knew there was something weird going on.”
“Uh…” Jorge was not expecting this sudden flank attack. “I…well…I mean, we asked around…”
“You asked,” said Marguerite in obvious despair. “You asked and then you believed what they told you, didn’t you?”
Jorge’s eyes darted back and forth. “Were we not supposed to do that…?”
“Paladins.” She dropped her head in her hands. “And if that’s not enough, your recordkeeping looks like the sort of thing a drunken mercenary would scribble down to justify his bar tab. Do you know that your people lost a whole entire possessed paladin? Just lost him?”
“What?” said Shane.