The Pact, page 16
part #1 of The Dark Roads Series
"I avoided becoming a slave, is all," he said. "Do you even understand what the demon is doing to you?"
From her place next to him on the floor, Nathara's hands danced and played idly in her lap, running through long-forgotten or idly imagined spells, useless runic chains and children's clapping games all mixed up together.
Serenity found herself oddly drawn by the movement of the doxy's delicate fingers, watching her carefully even as she spoke with the girl's protector.
"You would have to be a very weak person to be turned into a slave." Slipping her cards from the pocket of her cloak, she started shuffling. "Casting runes is a game of strength and skill. It's always a gamble, and only the strong can win. Didn't you understand all that when you went in?"
He shook his head. "I'm not talking about what the Black Guild tells you the bond is meant to be, Miss Walker. The Black Guild—the real Black Guild—is an order of liars and murderers, and servants to the will of demons. What they teach their loyal little students is suicide. What you have inside of you, it's not a friend, and it's not your companion. It isn't even a simple symbiote. It's a devil, and it's using you as a foothold into this world. It doesn't play to your whims, no matter how much it pretends to. In the end, it is only using your body, and your strength, to achieve what it wants on this earth."
"And what do you presume he wants?"
What I want, D'aej put in, growling, is to leave these two to their business and get back to the matter of hunting your quarry. Has it occurred to you that if you tarry here, he could get away from us?
Nathara's hands moved faster, her motions less precise as their voices rose and the edges in their words became sharper. She'd started humming a nervous, warbling tune.
Serenity nodded at her. "What's she doing?"
He stroked the girl's hair. "Nothing. Whoever she might have been before, she long ago forgot how to cast runes. If she ever even knew how to in the first place. Far as I can tell, this is just some memory of a time before now, before they turned her into a gremlin. Who knows how much of it is actually her memory, and how much of it is the demon they tried to feed her to?"
He gestured at Nathara. "This is what the demon is doing to you, Serenity. Yours is just subtler."
She shook her head. "You're ridiculous. The darklings need our minds, or else where would they be themselves? Still incorporeal spirits wandering the Rachalör. We offer them as much as they offer us. It would be stupid of them to destroy their own vessels."
"Why should they need your mind, when they clearly have their own? And if you're so sure they're keen on preserving the sentient consciousness of their hosts, how do you explain lost souls? It may be more convenient for your demon that you haven't gone mad, but believe me, all it needs from you is a body. And you willingly gave yours up."
D'aej coiled and twisted, the sense of him prickly and electric, as if he would, if he could, reach out and strike the man for his slander.
"Then why don't they just destroy us?" she asked. "If all they need is our bodies, why would they even allow us any free will at all?"
"They don't."
She snorted. "I came here by choice, stranger. My own. And I stay here by choice, regardless of the fact the darkling inside me is getting dangerously close to inflicting physical harm on you, and would much rather be elsewhere. If you think denying him the chance to do either is not free will, what is?"
He glanced away from her, gazing over Nathara's head and out the window behind her with a sigh. "Weaver, you're obviously willful and stubborn. You have scales put upon your eyes, and you are not ready to see."
"I don't understand how you dare say so, when I'm the only one here who can say she's gone out there, sought the power of a darkling, survived the bond, and tamed the spirit that came with it!"
"But have you? Tamed it?" He peered at her, measuring her as if he were trying to peer through her skin and to the darkling inside. "Can a demon really be tamed, Serenity Walker?"
D'aej's presence flashed, sharp and angry, within her. I have had enough of this idiot, Serenity. Let's you and I—
A chain of lightning arced down through the open window, striking Nathara's head and seizing her with light. Her jaw dropped and her eyes went wide. Electricity cackled all around her, leaping and striking like whip cracks.
Serenity leapt in front of the cripple, forking a sign. "BerKANo!"
Lightning streaked at Serenity, coming for her in bright blue hunger, but it struck the phantasmal barrier she'd thrown up before it could take her. She maintained the shield around herself and the stranger, willing it to hold against the storm.
D'aej, finicky and stubborn, tugged at her, wanting to falter away from the effort. I don't understand why you wish to use my power to save this lying toe rag!
"You don't need to understand, D'aej, you just need to do it!"
He seared her senses, resentful and furious, but the strength returned just in time to send a burst of energy out before them, intercepting the meanest of the arcs. The storm subsided, leaving Nathara sitting on the floor, a look of surprise on her face.
Serenity let the spell she'd twisted dissipate.
"What was that?" she asked, though she knew the answer: that had been a rune gone wrong, a curse backfiring and set wild.
The man stood. "Though Nathara may no longer be able to weave runes consciously, there's still a power there great enough to summon runic abilities. She has no control over it, or the damage it does."
He crossed the room and closed the shades. "Obviously, it can be quite problematic."
"If she can still cast, then there is still hope for her," Serenity replied. "We may be able to restore her mind, given enough time."
"Why do you suddenly care so much about saving Nathara?" he asked. "Don't you and your darkling have other matters to attend to? I doubt you came here to Dao looking for a damsel in distress. Or perhaps you're trying to make up for some sin you've committed, looking for atonement in charitable acts toward the less fortunate so you can escape the eventual judgement on yourself?"
His comment made her think of Jack, of his white hat syndrome. And it also made her think of the tavern girl in Tyr Salem, the little girl who brought Serenity freshly laundered clothes and then shrieked for Daddy to kill her because she wore the devil's mark.
"Why we're here and where we're going isn't any of your business," she snapped. "And if I were you, I wouldn't be turning down offers of help when they come knocking on your door."
"It isn't your help I'm afraid of. It's your demon."
"D'aej has no reason to harm her!" she insisted.
"A demon has every reason to want to gain control of someone who can cast runes, whether she's good at it or not!" he shouted back at her. "Nathara was lucky whatever demon came for her was destroyed in her and didn't completely take over! Your demon would love to make her into a vessel for one of his kind. Don't you understand it's how they gain their power?"
Serenity's head spun. The world flashed black and white around her, then swam back into faded color. She found herself cast from the front of her own mind, and the words snapping back at the man were not issued in her voice.
"Mind your tongue, you sack of worthless flesh, for a darkling's purpose is not within your grasp to understand!"
D'aej! She struggled against him, pushing her way back into control. He flared, angry, seething. Through his eyes, she couldn't even see the cripple, only the blurry, rage-wrecked shape of him through D'aej's desire to hurt him. Her darkling held on stubbornly for a moment, but finally she wrestled him down and slipped back into control.
Serenity, I cannot abide to let this man keep prattling on like this! If you must help the girl then fine, let us attempt to help the girl, but I have had absolutely enough of him!
He surged against her, and she staggered under his strength. The world swam for a moment, the stranger going blurry again, and she thought she would tumble over. But then Nathara's protector stepped up beside her, steadying her with his good arm.
"Do you see?" he asked, tone much softer now. "Do you still think him tame?"
"You made him angry," she hissed through gritted teeth. "What did you expect?
"If you truly possessed the power you seem to think you have, I'd expect you to be able to keep your partner's anger in check," he replied. "So what does this little outburst tell you?"
She glared at him through the swimming haze.
"Look," she finally managed. "I just want to help. Will you let me please try to help her?"
He stared hard at her. A cold tickle on her lip told her she'd started bleeding.
He let her go. "You can't help her."
"Yes, I can!"
"Not in the grip of a demon," he said.
"I'm a damn sight better than you who can't even cast a simple spell!"
He cocked an eyebrow and let out a huff of laughter. "And what makes you think I can't still cast?"
She blinked. Wiping the blood from her face, she forced herself to take a deep breath.
"D'aej," she replied. "He can tell."
She swayed. Nausea tightened her stomach.
"You need to sit down."
She swallowed the lump of bile in her throat. "I'll be fine."
Nathara had risen from her place at D'aej's eruption, and stood with her hand to her mouth, frightened and surprised. Serenity made the sign of peace, the sign of yr before her—not casting a spell, simply letting the girl know the outburst had passed—and she saw the old cripple's eyes widen at the use of the bastard rune.
Despite her insistence not to, she found herself too dizzy to stand, and sat on the floor to catch her breath.
"What's your name, anyway?" she asked the man.
"Jonah," he replied. "From the western cities."
"And what are you doing out here in the heartlands, then?"
He turned his attention on Nathara, stroking her hair again, touching her cheek in a soothing gesture. "Just a wanderer by nature," he said, dismissive.
Serenity knew the code. Usually it meant, "none of your business", and she didn't push the matter further.
"Fine," she conceded. "I'll leave you and your little gremlin friend alone, if you want. But I really did just want to help."
His eyes said he wasn't convinced, but he nodded all the same. "It really would be best for you to go."
He reached out his one good arm to help her back to her feet, and showed her to the door. Nathara watched them go with mingled worry and curious confusion on her sweet, lovely face. Serenity pitied her, but bitter resentment soured the feeling, curdling and twisting idly in her mind.
They would never have turned away Jack.
Once in the hall, Jonah sighed. It sounded almost apologetic.
"It's not that I doubt your sincerity," he said before he turned away from her. "It's only that you don't understand. As long as you believe in the demon's promise, there is no way to make you understand."
Serenity said nothing. When she might have been able to do some real good, to help restore Nathara's wasted mind, Jonah stood in her way. And he believed he had the right. Like those sanctimonious pricks of Tyr Salem, slashing their words of hate on the walls while she slept, he believed he had the right. And he wanted to tell her she'd done wrong. She wasn't good enough to help them.
So she had nothing to say. Instead, she turned her back on him and walked away.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Serenity rented a room and spent the rest of the night there, mentally going over the things she'd have to replace before leaving in the morning. The horse and her sundries would be simple. Some clothes, some trail rations, all those things could be found at a moment's notice. Almost. Dao stood at the crossroads into the heartland, and she'd find scores of general stores or streetside market stalls to choose from.
What she could never replace, of course, were her spellbooks and her journal. Everything she'd written in those tomes over the last several years, now lost to her forever, and with the fresh pain of self-righteous rejection still smarting on her from Jonah and Nathara—other weavers, by the living runes, weavers just like her!—Serenity faced the strangled hopelessness of the loss. A hollow disappointment, almost helplessness, nagged in her gut as she sat down to recuperate for the first time since D'aej woke her up to the fire in her room.
"I have to start over," she groaned, head in her hands. The thought of how many nights of study she could never get back, how many draws and how many key discoveries had simply burned away to ash...it made her sick to her stomach.
"All over," she said. "From the damn beginning."
Don't be so melodramatic. The notes are gone but the knowledge is still in here, you ridiculous girl.
"Years of work, D'aej! So many spells and chains no one else ever saw, even Rook. There were so many unfinished formulae in there I hadn't figured out yet. How can I possibly get even a fraction of it back?"
Motion rippled over their link, which might have been the darkling's version of rolling his eyes at her. When you're done crying over this very generous helping of spilled milk, we might spend some time refocusing ourselves. It's been a bad couple of days. Your physical energy is nearly entirely depleted, and I can feel the body getting sick. On top of it all, your mental energies are erratic and uncentered. So let's deal with those problems first, shall we?
"I'm fine," she insisted for the second time that night. She sensed her body cooling slightly, as the darkling attempted to lower her temperature, like turning down the heat on a lamp. She'd been warmer than she thought, and an unwelcome itching tickle in the back of her sinuses said she'd soon take the flu, if she wasn't careful. So, with grumbling assent, she conceded to her darkling.
I say we sleep, gather equipment in the morning, and spend one more day in town. A quiet day, without pissing anybody off. And we make sure the body is well. Then, we can continue our journey. The man you're looking for is closer now...I think I may have picked up his trail again. He passed through here, maybe only a few days ago. We may catch up to him very soon.
She sighed. If nothing else, at least, D'aej had some good news for her.
Taking a seat on the bed, she withdrew a cigarette from her pocket, lit it without ever pausing to consider how it got there, and took a long, satisfying drag to settle her nerves. She closed her eyes and the darkling began to tend to the body's vitals, carefully encouraging the natural process of recovery with his supernatural talents.
It means nothing, she thought to herself. Another few days, another dozen miles...another set of books and another journal. It's nothing, Serenity. Because we're almost there. We've almost got him.
***
In her dream, she played cards with Nathara at a table in The Wolf's Den back home. The tavern shone, bright and bouncing. Their piano-player danced his way through a jaunty, happy tune, while the gamblers and drinkers at the other tables were caught up in vibrant conversation, laughter and animated tall tales going all around.
The pretty young doxy wore a clean white dress now, like one of the hand-sewn solstice dresses Magda used to make for her own pretty girls, and she chatted amicably away over the card game while she studied her hand. The name of the game was Slap!, but all of the cards wore runic clues on their faces, so the kings and queens tumbled together locked in the gebo embrace, or gallantly rode the aurochs of uruz, while the jacks cavorted in the fields of jera, and the numbers all danced with their symbols and signs. Even the wily joker had taken his place in the sly figure of dagaz, smiling from under the brim of his jester's cap, sitting cross-legged beneath a stone monolith raised in observance to the sun. But the joker Serenity held in her hand had no sun on it. The devilish clown on her card had swallowed it, shutting the landscape in night, leaving the feral orange flame of his campfire as the only light warding away the darkness.
Serenity let the cards play between her fingers and carefully selected one, laying it down between them. "Empathy," she said proudly.
Nathara smiled over the fan of her own cards. "Thanks. But you don't understand."
Serenity leaned back in her chair, dragging deep on the cigarette that had somehow followed her through the portal of sleep and into her dreams. "Please?"
"No." Nathara carefully picked and positioned her cards. "I know what you want, Serenity. The question is, do you?"
"Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?"
"Because, like many great weavers who have chosen the path of the demon, you seem to forget there are other forces in play than your own will."
"Oh, you mean D'aej? Don't worry about him. He hates playing for keeps." She blew a smoke ring into the air, tossing a poker chip onto the table. "Ante up."
Nathara gave her a sweet, patient smile. "Already there with you, little weaver. A soul for a soul. I'm all in."
"Then let's see the cards."
The other girl shook her head. "Sorry, but it isn't time yet."
"Who are you?" Serenity asked. "I mean...it isn't really your name, is it?"
"No. I used to have a real name... the name my mother gave me." She tapped one finger along the tops of her cards, one after another. "But like you, I lost it. Only my scars can speak for me now."
"And what rune did the otherworld give you, then, to stand for the name you lost?"
Nathara tossed another chip on the pot. "The runes I may or may not wear don't matter at all, Serenity. What matters is what it all means."
"I know," Serenity groaned. "By the false rune, you sound like Jack."
Nathara raised an eyebrow as she delicately picked a card and slipped it between two others in the fan. "You call upon the false rune? You, of all people, the little prodigy?"
Serenity waved a hand. "It's just an expression."
"Ah. There we have it." The doxy laid down her cards, but not in any spread Serenity had ever seen before. The images on the cards spread out before them, dark and harsh. They spelled out a picture of abduction and torture, of nightmares and deep, tiger-striped scars.
"This is you?" she asked in a whisper.
"This is you," Nathara replied. "You and the Pale Rider, riding shotgun on the wagon train to hell. You're walking in his world, and all the chains in futhark can't save you now."
