“Was the stew to your liking?”
“The food was good, but we seem to have lost our appetites.”
“He is a high priest of our people. But to strangers, who do not understand, well…he may seem extreme.”
“On the contrary, mine host, I do understand. Even in other lands some magics drive the sense from a man.”
The host looked nervously about as if someone might overhear. He said, “As you wish. Your room is to the right, the first door. It is as far away from the noise as I can put you.”
“We appreciate that.”
He nodded, and we stood. Celandine followed me, hooded, eyes down, more to hide her anger than to hide her face.
We mounted the stairs to the sounds of screams. The screams became words, a prayer. I didn’t need to look behind me to know Celandine was stiffening. The girl was praying to Mother Blessen. She was praying to Celandine’s God.
The prayer was cut short as if she had been cuffed. We stepped into the dark hallway, and both of us simply stood as if waiting. The child’s voice rose again in prayer. He was beating her. But she had decided that she would probably never see daylight. So she prayed, and he hit her. Celandine let her hood slip back. She turned to me wordlessly, and I met her eyes.
I whispered, “The token?”
She nodded.
There was logic to it. The girl was inside the Black Demon Inn. The token was inside a demon just as the prophets had told us it would be. My sword sighed from its sheath, and I hefted my shield, balancing it on my arm. She smiled at me then. Fear danced in her eyes, but that curious strength that she had when healing, it was there, too.
She whispered to me, “You must cut off his head, or take out his heart. He will simply heal himself otherwise. And you must kill him as quickly as possible, for he can do us all great harm.”
“Surely he has used most of his power already tonight.”
“He is high in the favor of the dark Gods. He may have more than his own power to draw from.”
I prayed silently. “Balinorelle, let it not be so. Guide my hand and allow me to slay this demonmonger.”
Celandine waited for me, and we walked to the room. She opened the door quietly, for we didn’t want to alert the men down below. I went in ahead of her, shield held close, wondering if it would help.
The girl lay on the bed partially nude. Her small breasts and entire upper body were covered with the green spreading sickness. It was something that killed thoroughly and quickly. The black healer lay next to her fondling her diseased body. Celandine closed the door behind us.
The man said, “What do you want?”
He spied Celandine behind me and leered. “Have you come to offer a gift? For a gift as fair as she, you could have much.”
“I have come to ask if you will sell the girl to me.”
He stared down at the dying girl and laughed. With a careless hand, he healed her, the disease absorbing into his skin, where the green sickness faded away. She was pure and unblemished once more. “I don’t think I’ll sell her to you, elf. But I might trade.”
I shook my head. “No, black healer, no trade.”
He knelt on the bed and said, “Then you can fight me for her.” A thin smile curled his lips. He gestured, and I felt claws sink into my cheek. Blood trickled down my face, from under my helmet.
He laughed. “How badly do you want her?”
I wiped the dripping blood with the back of my hand and said, “Badly enough.”
I advanced, holding shield and weapon up, but another claw raked me across the ribs as if my armor were not there. Stealth gained me nothing, so I rushed him. He motioned, and my sword hand was cut and bleeding.
A sorcerous claw raked over my eyes. I shrieked and fell to my knees. I gripped shield and sword in the crimson dark. Blind, I fought the pain and the panic. I had been trained to fight blindfolded: darkness was darkness. The pain was overwhelming, and I crouched and tried to think past it, tried to hear past it.
A sound, footsteps. The girl’s scream. A rush of cloth that was Celandine’s dress. The heavier sloppy footfalls of the black healer.
“It seems I will enjoy two beauties tonight.”