cowered away from him. She seemed more terrified of him than she was of the demon.
Though the Sword protested, Gathrid forced it into its scabbard. He offered the girl a hand. She accepted as if afraid refusal would bring reprisal. Gathrid did not know what to say, so said nothing. Ventimiglian words would not roll right on his tongue anyway. He helped her climb the bank, leaned her against a sapling while he rounded up horses and examined his enemies' gear. He found their memories more interesting than their equipment. They knew the way to the Library. It was there that the Mindak had gifted them with their demon.
Said demon kept cursing in the streambed.
He was wasting time. He helped the girl onto a horse. Then, on impulse, he scrambled down and salvaged the talking head. He bound it to his saddle by its wiry hair. It chattered right along, telling him what it thought.
The girl spoke for the first time when Gathrid started to leave. "What about me? What am I supposed to do?"
He looked into her dark, frightened eyes. He shrugged. "Whatever you want. You're free now."
She understood despite his recalcitrant tongue. "No. I'll never be free. I've been dedicated." She indicated the head. "The thing's masters will compel them. They can't break their bargain with it. Nor it with them. The one who escaped. He'll bring friends. Powerful men. The high sorcerers. The fathers of the ones you slew."
Gathrid shrugged again. What could he say or do? He had not thought beyond her rescue. "Come on." His plans had no room for companions, yet he could not abandon a responsibility once assumed.
She hesitated. She was afraid of him. She did not want to remain near a man so deadly. Yet he had saved her from the devils she knew.
Shortly after he shrugged a third time and started off, exchanging unpleasantries with the head, she called for him to wait.
Chapter Nine
Round Dedera
The girl's name was Loida Huthsing. "Any relation to Franaker Huthsing?" Gathrid asked.
"My father." She seemed startled because he knew the name.
The demon was Gacioch. The girl was seventeen, the demon ageless. Loida had been part of the plunder the Mindak had sent home from Grevening. Gacioch was the lackey of a demon-lord in the service of high Ventimiglian nobles.
The youths Gathrid had slain belonged to the Mindak's own household. They had been sons of cousins and nephews. Loida told him to expect a cruel death. Gacioch gleefully confirmed her contention.
The demon let up on the cussing and fussing. His game, now, was to describe at length, and in loving detail, the sophistication of the tortures to be found in the Mindak's dungeons. Ahlert's family was sacred, at least by their own decree.
"Don't you ever shut up?" Gathrid demanded. "Right now Theis Rogala is looking good."
The demon grinned and babbled on.
Gathrid shrugged off the threats. "Ahlert can't want me any worse than before. Loida? Your father is really Franaker Huthsing? The infamous Sheriff of Rigdon?"
"Infamous? Look, friend . . . "
"He was infamous on our side of the border." He had been afraid his identity would frighten the girl. She grew relaxed instead.
"Heck, we're neighbors. Almost kin. What went on between our fathers doesn't seem very important now, does it?"
"Not when you look at it from a forest in the heart of Ventimiglia, no."
The exchange of identities occurred during their second day together, while they paused at the forest's edge and Gathrid quietly debated going afoot once more. Before, Loida had tagged along in silence while Gacioch had done the chattering. For his part, Gathrid had been too preoccupied to worry about the girl or demon.
By now an alarm would have spread throughout Ventimiglia's ruling class. The hunt would be up. Could he reach the Library before the pursuit overtook him?
The city Dedera was the obstacle. Daubendiek should see him through the countryside. Out here, sheer distance would keep the enemy from gathering in number. But the city, with its quarter-million people, could throw an army across his path.
He saw no way, now, to conceal his presence and destination. He decided to retain the horses and try for speed.
A dozen riders passed through a field a quarter-mile away, boredly watching the wood. To Gathrid's surprise, Gacioch kept his mouth shut while they were within hearing.
"Why didn't you yell?" Gathrid demanded.
"I like you, boy. I've gotten attached to you."
"Liar."
"Goodie! You noticed. That'll be a plus mark on my record when I come up for promotion." He snickered evilly.