No, there it was, at the pavilion. And it had a dagger. Eater of Souls cringed under a renewed barrage of shrieks and snarled at the daughter as the girl threw a volley of rocks. At the same time, Eater of Souls heard men shouting.
More mortals approached. The Devouress launched herself at the evil one, claws spread, ax blade biting the air. At the last moment, as the victim braced for her attack, she swerved and hurtled past it into the grove of trees. Leaving the mortals stunned, the Devouress clawed her way up a tree and leaped over the garden wall. On the other side she darted quickly into the shadows and pounded through the streets, rage building with each stride.
The evil one had escaped; no one escaped Eater of Souls. She had failed the favored one. Now the emptiness would be renewed, increased by humiliation and time. Pausing, the Devouress lifted her snout and waved it through the air. She caught the scent of the transgressor, still fresh. She could smell its fear, but mixed with it was rage and a hint of cold reason.
Eater of Souls did not inspire anger; inspiring anger meant that the angry one felt equal. None equaled the Devouress. For this reason as much as for the favored one, she would hunt down this quarry and destroy it. And she must do it quickly, before word spread among the living that an evil one had survived Eater of Souls.
He was desperate to protect Bener. Meren raced after the creature that had attacked him in darkness, not thinking of the folly of pursuing it into the black shadows of the trees. Streams of sweat emptied into his eyes, blurring his sight and stinging his eyes. He dashed an arm across his face as he nearly ran into a palm. What stopped him was a rock.
It soared past his head and smacked into the palm tree. He whirled around, shouting. "Bener, get back!"
Of course, she didn't listen. While shouts of charioteers filled the garden, she charged through the trees and landed beside him, with a fistful of stones, ready to hurl another. Meren hardly glanced at her. His lungs worked; his body tensed in readiness while his heart emptied of all but the need to protect Bener and to hunt down and kill the creature. He searched the grove, strained to hear the slightest grunt or scrape of metal claws. Above them, the limbs of an acacia rasped and squeaked. Bener started, and her movement caused Meren to grab her arm and begin backing out of the grove.
They hadn't gone far before they were surrounded by charioteers. He gave them a brief description of what had happened and sent them after the intruder. He wanted to go with them, but he was afraid to leave Bener. She wasn't crying or frantic, but her body trembled, and she had a dazed look. His men left, but dozens of servants crowded around them.
He gave answers and reassurances he didn't feel, but the chatter and the demands rose anew, fed by darkness and fear. The voices grew louder and louder until he could hear nothing else. Something stung his forearm. He glanced down to see four red slices in his flesh. He turned his arm over and found another, deeper cut. Five, five cuts. He tried to concentrate on them, on Bener, but the wails and entreaties of the servants resounded inside his head, battered his skull.
"Be silent!"
His roar cut through the din and shut even the most importunate of mouths. "Everyone out. Not you, Bener." When they were alone, he asked, "Are you hurt?"
"No, Father."
She said nothing more, and he knew better than to press her. Leading her to the reflection pool, he knelt and stuck his arm in the water.
She sat beside him. "Was that…? Who was- what…?" Bener caught her lower lip between her teeth.
"That, my dear, foolish daughter, was Eater of Souls."
"It was the Devouress."
"It was what people are calling Eater of Souls."
Meren scooped water into his hand and allowed it to trickle over the cuts on his arm.
"A demon," Bener repeated in a harsh voice. Her fists were clenched, and they pressed into her stomach.
"Perhaps." Meren looked up to find her staring at him. "Perhaps it was a demon."
"What else could it be?"
"I don't know."
"How could you not know?" Bener's voice rose and carried over the water. "It attacked you! I saw the-the head, the long snout. Even in the dark I saw the claws. I thought I was going to perish of terror."
Meren rounded on her. "But you didn't. You threw rocks."
"It was going to kill you!"
"Next time run for help," he snapped.
Half closing her eyes, Bener said carefully, "If I'd run for help, you might have been killed." She glanced at the cuts on his arm.
"I'd rather risk death than see you in danger."
"But, Father, I feel the same way."
Startled, Meren was about to retort when Bener's courageous air vanished and she burst into tears. She threw herself into his arms. He held her tightly, having learned in the raising of three daughters that this wasn't the time to attempt comfort by spouting reason and wisdom. Then, as suddenly as the tears appeared, they ebbed. Bener lifted her head to glower at him.
"I saved your life."
"You're a brave young woman," he replied. He was too exhausted to quarrel, his ka filled with trepidation and disquiet.
Bener gave him a suspicious look, but he only smiled at her. "Your maid will be waiting for you. Go to your chamber and try to sleep. The hunt for this creature may take the rest of the night."
"Can you hunt a demon?"
"I don't know."
"But you don't think it was Eater of Souls, or you wouldn't have sent men after it."
"Bener, I tell you I don't know!" Even to him his voice sounded rough, like split wood. He stood with her. "Forgive me. I'm weary."
"Aren't you frightened of the-the-"
"Go to bed, daughter. We'll talk upon the morrow."
He watched her leave and wished suddenly that the gods hadn't given her so much cleverness and bravery. The garden gate shut. He had a little time now, with no one to see. Dropping to his knees, he sank back on his heels. He cupped his hands, dipped them into the water, and splashed his face. Then he stuck his injured arm into the water again. The coolness eased the sting of the cuts. But it didn't stop the trembling. He made a fist and stared at the liquid blackness.
Someone had lit the lamps that rested in tall stands around the pool. He could see his fist, a distorted stump beneath the surface. Cursing, he swept his arm up and sent a spray of water into his face. The shock against his skin didn't help.
When the thing had attacked and he saw it for the first time, the sight had caused a brief moment of terror so extreme that he'd felt a jagged bolt of pain reverberate through his body, and he'd torn his attention from the terror and pain just as he did in battle. But now he was paying the price. Every muscle, from the top of his head to the soles of his feet, ached. The bones in his arms and legs had become hot, formless sand. The voice of his heart pounded in his ears.
Changing his position, he drew his knees to his chest, rested his arms on them, and lowered his head. "What was it? A good question. What was it? Unfortunately, I don't know."
The attack had happened too quickly. He'd been startled, and there had been no time to think, no opportunity to get a good look at the-thing. All he remembered were flashes in which a yellow eye, a long, fanged snout, or slashing claws dominated. A half-hysterical chuckle erupted from his chest. The mighty warrior, Eyes and Ears of Pharaoh, had been struck helpless, blind, and deaf at last.
Hearing his own laughter, he clamped down on it. Allowing it free rein would invite a loss of control he couldn't afford. He must harness himself before Kysen or the searchers returned. Lifting his head, he bent his neck back and exposed his face to the breeze.