Wondering if anyone but another paladin could. “I don’t feel hollow anymore.”
The woman he thought of as a little sister sagged. “Oh,” she said, as soft as a dying breath.
“I didn’t know it would do that,” he admitted. “I don’t think the demon knew either. Otherwise it probably would have tried to tempt me with it, instead of threatening.”
“You wouldn’t have listened,” said Wren, with the absolute faith that he probably didn’t deserve.
“No,” said Shane, pressing the heel of his hand hard against his chest. “I probably wouldn’t have.” And hoped that his voice did not express just how tempted he would have been.
It seemed like no time at all until they reached the river. It was shallow enough here that they could splash across it. The two Sail operatives hurried to do so, not looking back, and struck out for the road.
Shane turned to Marguerite and found that she was less than an arm’s length away.
“We’re getting you out,” she said, her voice low and intense. “We aren’t leaving you here. We’ll go straight to the Dreaming God and drag them back here. I swear.”
The Dreaming God’s people will want Wisdom stopped far more than they want me saved.
Assuming I’m even still alive when they get here.
“That’s the best thing you can do,” he said.
She grabbed his forearms and stared up at him, as intent as she had been when they made love.
Even with the demon burning a hole under his breastbone, the memory still made his mouth go dry.
“I’m not going to abandon you,” she said. “Don’t think for a moment that I have.”
He nodded. And then, because he knew he would never get another chance, he said, “I love you.”
And maybe he didn’t have the courage to know how she would answer, because he kissed her rather than hear whatever she said next.
It was both the best and worst kiss of his entire life.
“Please go,” he said, when they finally broke apart. “Because I can’t bear this.”
Marguerite’s face had the blank, set look of a woman trying not to cry. “I will come back for you,”
she told him.
Shane nodded, and kissed her forehead, and let her go.
He watched them wade across the river, the three of them, and he turned away after that, so that he would not have to watch them vanish out of sight.
It was the only way to keep her safe. I did what I had to do.
Cold comfort, but it was the only kind he had.
“YOU RETURN,” said Wisdom, as Shane entered the room. “Not that I doubted.”
“Didn’t you?”
It was a strange thing to think about a demon, but he thought that its sudden smile was genuine. “A little, perhaps, if I’m being honest. But I thought it was worth the risk.”
“How did you know that I wouldn’t simply ride off with them?”
“You gave your word.”
He looked at it skeptically. “You cannot tell me that you trusted that I would honor a promise to a demon.”
Wisdom chuckled. “No, not really. But I trusted that what I had given you would be enough.”
Shane rubbed the heel of his hand against his chest. The scarred spot where the god had touched him was no longer numb. It burned again, though not as it had before. Acid instead of purifying flame.
Compared to the dead emptiness that he had carried for so long, it was a miracle of sensation.
But would that have been enough, by itself, to bring him back?
He tried to think like Marguerite, picking his way through a tangle of possible motivations, but gave up quickly. His mind was simply not that twisty. “I don’t know if I believe you,” he said.
“It’s not as complicated as you think,” said the demon, and Shane wondered if it was reading his mind again, or if he was simply so easy to predict. “You do not know the extent of my powers. You couldn’t be sure that something terrible wouldn’t happen if you broke faith with me. For all you know, if you’d betrayed me at the river, a horde would have risen up and taken you captive again and slaughtered your friends in front of you. Maybe I would have taken one of them as my new vessel, as I threatened to do. So you had to keep playing my game, just to make certain they were safely away.”
Shane exhaled slowly. When he’d stood at the river, watching them go, he’d thought almost exactly that. Its accuracy was chilling.
“So yes, I trusted that what I’d given you was enough. The bond you bear…and the healthy fear of what I might be capable of.” It flashed its teeth in a fox’s grin.
“And would a horde have risen up?”
Wisdom snorted. “I suppose I could lie and say that I had archers hidden by the river, but you’ll find out soon enough how few troops I really have. No, no horde. You would not have enjoyed the breaking of the bond between us, but then, neither would I.”
So there was nothing standing in my way but my own fears.
Again.
In all the tragic novels and epic poems that he had read over the years, the key was that the heroes doomed themselves by their own flaws. That’s why it’s a tragedy. Otherwise it’s just a poem where people die.
“Don’t look so stricken,” said Wisdom gently. “After all, if I do manage to become a god, you’d hardly want to be the person who double-crossed me, would you? I imagine that could be very unpleasant.”
Shane raised an eyebrow. “Do you plan to be a vengeful god, then?”
The demon laughed. “I honestly don’t know. I can’t imagine that I’ll actually care, once I’m a god, but I’ve never been one before, so perhaps I’ll care very much. Either way, surely it’s safer to stay on my good side, yes?”
Shane shook his head. There was one immense, glaring flaw in Wisdom’s logic. “You must know that they’ll go straight to the Dreaming God’s people to warn them about you.” He strolled across the room to the window and looked out at the distant hillside, half-expecting to see an army already gathered.
“Of course they will.”
“And you’re not afraid?”
“I would rather see them coming than be blindsided.” It leaned against the table. “Discovery was always inevitable. This way I choose the time of my discovery.”
“They’ll send an army against you.”
The demon nodded. “Very likely. And if I am to survive that army, the thing I needed most was someone with an intimate knowledge of how the Dreaming God’s people operate.” It traced its fingers through the air in a symbol like a benediction, though one he did not recognize. “And that, my champion, is where you come in.”
“Me?”
“You know the Dreaming God well. His mark is on your soul, if not so strongly as the Saint’s. You will tell me how to face His people and survive.”
“Like hell I will,” said Shane, and threw himself out the window.
The courtyard below was cobbled with gray stone, which had gone almost pink in places where red mud had dried across it. There was a line of laundry stretched across one side and a half-dozen chickens pecked away in the corner. He had plenty of time to notice this, because he appeared to be hanging suspended in midair.