The demon slumped to the ground, Aric on top of him, gripping his hilt. They held that position for what seemed a full minute before he heard Siemhouk’s voice again. That’s enough, she said. He is defeated.
“Enough?” Aric echoed, or thought he did. The world was utterly silent, except for the sounds in his mind.
Enough.
Aric found his feet. Through the slits he had for eyes he saw Tallik, still at last, shrunken back to the size he had been when he had first emerged from Kadya, arms and tentacles splayed out around him like a stomped spider’s limbs.
He drew his sword from the demon’s chest, nothing but steel now, the red glow faded.
Enough? he thought.
Summoning what strength remained to him, he struck quickly, lopping off the demon’s head. It rolled to one side, and Aric kicked it away from the body lest it reattach itself somehow.
That was unnecessary, Nibenay’s voice said.
I didn’t want to chance someone reviving him again, Aric thought.
Me, perhaps?
Aric spat a tooth into the gore coating the paving stones. Perhaps.
Nibenay didn’t respond. Siemhouk had gone silent, too. On wobbly legs, Aric made his way back toward his friends. They caught him before he fell, and they led him, half-carrying him, out of the plaza, out of the Naggaramakam, past the argosy they had stolen and abandoned, past the guards, who as far as Aric could tell might still have been mute.
No one raised a hand to stop them.
XXII
Afterwards
The Inn of Nine Feathers was quiet when he arrived, but it was early yet, mid-afternoon, the hottest part of the day. Even the birds were still, sitting in cages suspended from the tavern’s ceiling. Most were sitaks, their plumage deep crimson and pale blue, or burgundy and taupe, with ivory crests, but there were other types Aric couldn’t name, feathered in every color from carmine to chartreuse to indigo.
A barkeep stood behind a bar with cages lining the wall behind him and birds carved in relief in the wood of the bar front. The birds in those cages squawked when he yanked feathers from their tails. He put the tailfeathers into a mortar, added clear liquors depending on what drink had been ordered, and worked them together until he could pour the vibrant, liquefied contents into mugs. A barmaid served the mugs and took orders for more.
Aric watched it all through eyes that had not entirely healed over the past three days. He could hear again, and had been relieved to find the deafness was only temporary. He sat at the tavern’s biggest table, and had another dragged over to add more room. Soon enough, Ruhm showed up, then Sellis and Amoni, followed after a few minutes by Rieve. “How’s Pietrus?” Aric asked when she sat down.
“He’s all right,” Rieve explained. “He’s not comfortable yet venturing into the city. Still, it’s strange how fast people forget. They destroyed our house, killed some servants. That was apparently enough justice, but it will take him a while before he thinks he’s forgiven.”
“Not too long, I hope,” Aric said.
“As do we,” Rieve agreed.
Myrana entered next, a wide smile lighting her face. She sat and slapped the tabletop. “It’s just so good to see you all again!”
“It’s only been a couple of days,” Sellis said.
“Long enough. After what we’ve been through, it feels like forever.”
Finally, Corlan and Mazzax joined the party. Aric was surprised to see them together, and he laughed, then winced at the sharp pain in his ribs when he did. He wasn’t alone in his misery: Amoni had a broken arm, and Sellis was covered in bruises in shades of blue, purple, yellow and black. Only Ruhm had challenged Tallik and emerged relatively intact, with nothing worse than a swollen cheek to show for it.
They had survived, that was the important thing. Gone up against the greatest threat any of them had ever encountered and walked away. And Aric couldn’t deny that, though he’d been terrified at the time, thinking about it afterward all he remembered was that it had been, in some strange way, fun.
They chatted casually while the barmaid delivered everyone’s drinks. Once everybody had a mug before them, Aric banged his on the table. “A toast!” he said.
“A toast,” others echoed.
“To all of you, boon companions to the end!”
“And to you, Aric, slayer of demons!” Mazzax added.
They drank, banged their empties down, and the barmaid came over to fetch more. The birds launched into a series of loud squawks as tailfeathers were plucked.
“I wish we knew he was truly slain,” Aric said.
“You cut his head off!” Myrana said.
“But he lived before, in Siemhouk’s head and inside Kadya. Do we know there’s not some aspect of him, carried in one of the templars?” Aric lowered his voice. “In Nibenay himself?”
“We can’t know that,” Amoni said. “But it’s unlikely—there was a lot of magical energy channeled through your blade, Aric. Even without beheading him, I’m sure he was killed.”
“I hope so.” Aric peered across the table at Rieve, copper hair sparkling in candlelight. So beautiful, and yet unattainable, his half-sister. “When will you and Corlan be wed?” he asked.
“We won’t,” Rieve replied. A glance at Corlan showed only the slightest trace of disappointment, a twitching of the lips, a lowering of eyelids. “Not that I don’t love Corlan—and all of you—but I’ve been thinking a lot, and talking to Grandmother. I’ll be joining the Order of the Serene Bliss, becoming an ascetic, and working on developing my spiritual nature.”
“It’s the right decision for you,” Corlan said. “As I told you before.”
“Corlan’s been just wonderful about it,” Rieve said. “I meant to tell you sooner, Aric, but …”
“But I didn’t want to see anybody for those few days. You wouldn’t have wanted to see me. I was a mess.”
“You’re still a mess!” Mazzax said.
“I know.” Aric’s face remained puffy and bruised. Sellis’s flesh was colorful, but Aric’s had more hues than all the birds in the cages around them. Pain lanced from his ribs when he breathed too deeply or laughed or rolled over in his sleep. The gouges from Tallik’s claws were scabbed over, but the scorch marks where his tentacles had wrapped around Aric were still black and sore. “I wish you the best, Rieve. I’m sure it’ll be a wonderful experience for you.” He had thought himself used to the idea that he couldn’t be with her, since the night of Myklan’s confession, but it still stung.
Corlan reached toward Myrana, who sat beside him, and took her hand. “The truth is, Myrana and I have … well, we’ve comforted one another,” he said. “Out in the desert, we were drawn toward each other, and since being here in Nibenay that feeling has deepened.”
“I don’t know if it’s love,” Myrana said. “But it’s close enough for now.”
Aric was astonished by this revelation. He had seen Corlan and Myrana, lost in conversation, at times, but hadn’t known anything like this was in the offing. This stung as well. He had been attracted to Myrana from the moment they met.
“You’d best take good care of her, Corlan,” Mazzax said. “I once thought taking care of Hotak’s shop was the most important thing, but now … now I think it’s Myrana, taking care of Myrana. She’s special, that one, and I want no harm to befall her.”
“Believe me, I wouldn’t harm her,” Corlan said.
“Not and take two breaths afterward,” Mazzax countered.
“Good luck with that,” Aric said, to general laughter. “All three of you!”