"There's plenty of that at the slaughterhouse."
"Great. That's just what I needed to hear." Tarma brooded for a moment. "Tell me something; why's he taking on human shape if he wants to terrify? His own would be better for that purpose."
"Well -- this is just a guess -- you have to remember he wants worship and devotion as well, and he won't get that in his real shape. That might be one reason. A second would be because what seems to be familiar and proves to be otherwise is a lot more fear-inducing than the openly alien. Lastly is Thalhkarsh himself -- most demons like the Abyssal Planes, and their anger at being summoned is because they've been taken from home. They look on us as a lower form of life, a species of animal. But Thalhkarsh is perverse; he wants to stay here, he wants to rule over people, and I suspect he enjoys physically coupling with humans. The Lady only knows why."
"I... don't suppose he can breed, can he?"
"Windborn! Thank your Lady, no. Thank all the gods that demons even in human form are sterile with humans, or we might have more than Thalhkarsh to worry about -- he might be willing to produce a malleable infant. But the only way he can reproduce is to bud -- and he's too jealous of his powers here to bud and create another on this Plane with like powers and a mind of its own. He won't go creating a rival, that much I'm sure of."
"Forgive me if I don't break out into carols of relief."
They peered down the dark, shadow-lined street in glum silence. The effluvium of the stockyards and tannery washed over them, causing Tarma to stifle a cough as an acrid breath seared the back of her throat a little.
The street is clear, a voice rang in Tarma's head.
"Warrl says it's safe to go," Tarma passed the word on, then, crouching low, crossed the street like one of the scudding shadows cast on the street by high clouds against the moon.
She moved so surely and so silently from the shadows of their own building to the shadows below the one across the street that even Kethry, who knew she was there, hardly saw her. Kethry was an instant behind her, not quite so sure or silent, but furtive enough. Warrl was already waiting for them, and snorted a greeting before slipping farther ahead of them in the direction of the temple.
Hugging the rough wood and stone of the walls, they inched their way down the street, trying not to wince when their feet encountered unidentifiable piles of something soft and mushy. The reek of tannery and stockyard overwhelmed any other taint. From within the buildings occasionally came sounds of revelry or conflict; hoarse, drunken singing, shouting, weeping, the splintering of wood, the crash of crockery. None of this was carried into the streets; only fools and the mad walked the streets of the beggar's quarter at night.
Fools, the mad, or the desperate. Right now Kethry had both of them figured for being all three.
Finally the walls of buildings gave way to a single stone wall, half again as tall as Tarma. This, by the descriptions she'd gotten, would be the wall of the temple. Beyond it, bulking black against the stars, Kethry could see the temple itself.
* * *
Tarma surveyed the wall, deciding it would be no great feat to scale it.
:You go over first, Fur-face,: she thought.
:My pleasure,: Warrl sent back to her, overtones of irony so strong Tarma could almost taste the metallic emotional flavoring. He backed up six or seven paces, then flung himself at the wall. His forepaws caught the top of it; caught, and held, and with a scrambling of hindclaws that sounded hideously loud to Tarma's nervous ears, he was over and leaping down on the other side.
Now it was her turn.
She backed up a little, then ran at the wall, leaping and catching the top effortlessly, pulling herself up onto the stones that were set into the top with ease. She crouched there for a moment, peering through the darkness into the courtyard beyond, identifying the odd-shaped shadows by what she'd been told to expect there.
In the middle there stood a dried-out fountain, its basin broken, its statuary mostly missing limbs and heads. To the right were three stone boxes containing earth and dead trees. To the left had been a shrine, now a heap of rubble, that had been meant for those faithful who felt unworthy to enter the temple proper. All was as it should be; nothing moved.
:I'd tell you if anything was here, wouldn't I?: Warrl grumbled at her lack of trust.
She felt one corner of her mouth twitch at his reply. :I can take it that all's well?:
:Nothing out of the ordinary outside.:
:It's inside I'm worried about.:
She saluted Kethry briefly, seeing the strained, anxious face peering whitely up at her in the moonshadows, then slipped over the top to land on catquiet feet in the temple courtyard.
She slid carefully along the wall, left foot testing the ground at the base of it for loose pebbles that might slip underfoot or be kicked away by accident.
The moon was behind her; so her side of the wall was entirely in shadow so long as she stayed close to it. Five steps -- twenty -- fifty -- her outstretched hand encountered a hinge, and wood. She'd come to the gate.
She felt for the bar and eased it along its sockets until one half of the gate was freed. That gave Kethry her way in; now she would scout ahead.
She waited for another of those scudding cloudshadows; joining it as it raced across the courtyard. Cobblestones were hard and a trifle slippery beneath her thin-soled boots; she was glad that the first sole was of tough, abrasive sharkskin. Dew was already beginning to collect on the cold stones, making them slick, but the sharkskin leather gave her traction.
She reached the shelter of the temple entrance without incident; Warrl was waiting for her there, a slightly darker shadow in the shadows of the doorway.
:Ready?: she asked him. She felt his assent.
She reached for the door, prepared to find it locked, and was pleasantly surprised when it wasn't. She nudged it open a crack; when nothing happened, she opened it enough to peer carefully inside.
She saw nothing but a barren antechamber. Warrl stuck his nose inside, and sniffed cautiously.
:Nothing here -- but something on the other side of the door beyond; people for sure -- and, I think, blood and incense. And magic, lots of magic.:
Tarma sighed; it would have been nice if this had been a false alarm. :Sounds like we've come to the right place.:
:Shouldn't we wait for Kethry?:
:You go after her; I want to make sure there isn't anyone on guard in there.:
:Not yet. I want to know you aren't biting off more than you can swallow.: Warrl waited for her to move on, one shadow among many.
She slipped in through the crack in the door, Warrl a hairsbreadth behind her. Moonlight shone down through a skylight above. The door on the other side of the antechamber stood open; between it and the door she had entered through was nothing but untracked dust.
She hugged the wall, easing carefully around the doorpost. Once inside the sanctuary she could barely see her own hands; she continued to hug the wall, making her way by feel alone. She came to a corner, paused for a moment, and tried to see, but could only make out dim shapes in the small amount of light that came from various holes in the ceiling of the sanctuary. It was impossible to tell if those sources of light were more skylights, or the evidence of neglect. Dust filled the air, making her nose itch; other than that, lacking Ward's senses, she could only smell damp and mildew. The stones beneath her hands were cold and slightly moist. Beneath the film of moisture they were smooth and felt a little like polished granite.