[Anita Blake Collection] - Strange Candy

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  She stared at me, and I shrugged. In the end it would be Celandine who said what the token was and where it was. My job was just to help her get it.

  The little demon also brought our food. Neither of us spoke as it put down bowls of stew, thick slices of brown bread, and tankards of some liquid. He seemed accustomed to silence and raced back through the tables with his empty tray.

  The stew was hot, the meat and vegetables a little stringy, but it had been a hard winter. Stores were running low everywhere, but the bread was fresh and good. One of the farmers I had noticed earlier came to stand beside us. He bumped into our table, unsteady on his feet. He smelled of beer. “Is this pretty thing your wife, Varellian?”

  “Yes.”

  “How much for a night with her?”

  I stared at him a moment, not sure I had understood. “I said she is my wife.”

  “I heard you. How much for the night?”

  “We are new to Lolth and do not understand all the customs. Are you saying that Loltuns sell their wives for money, like whores?”

  “You brought her in here, with her face showing. She looked at every man in the place, bold as a basilisk. What else would you be doing but selling?”

  I understood the host’s warning now, but it was too late. “We are not Loltun, and I am not selling my wife.”

  He scowled at that. “The other three women are busy, and I don’t go near a black healer. I have need of a woman, and she is the only one available.”

  “You’ll have to wait then.”

  “Loltun men do not wait for women.” He grabbed at Celandine surprisingly fast and jerked her to her feet.

  My sword was out before I had time to think. “Let her go, or die.”

  The sight of naked steel seemed to catch his attention. He let go of her, and she sank back into her seat. The man stared at the end of my sword, and finally said, “Well, if you don’t want to sell, then have her keep her eyes to herself. You could get a man killed over a misunderstanding like this.”

  I said nothing as he shuffled back to his companions. Celandine pulled up her hood without being asked. I resheathed my sword, and we ate in silence. But there was another scene taking place.

  The black healer and his girl were having a fight of sorts. He would touch her and then laugh, and she would scream. And then he would touch her again and laugh. I asked Celandine, “What is he doing?”

  She swallowed. “I think he is hurting the girl and then healing her.”

  “To what purpose?”

  “Many black healers are insane. They pervert their healing power into harm, and it contaminates them.”

  The girl was pretty. She had long yellow hair and light eyes that I guessed were blue, but couldn’t be sure at this distance. Her body had just begun to swell to womanhood, but she was still more child than woman. A bleeding scratch appeared on her cheek. He touched it, and the cut vanished.

  “How did that cut appear? He didn’t touch her.”

  “He is a very powerful black healer. He has a gift similar to sorcery.”

  “As you have.”

  She nodded. “As I have, but I must not use it again on peril of my soul.”

  That was what the quest was all about. The token, whatever it was, would cleanse the healer’s soul of the stain of black healing.

  The girl screamed, a full-blown shriek. She stood, knocking her chair backward. Even in the dim light I could see the open sores on her arm.

  Celandine started to rise, and I gripped her arm. It was automatic for her to help the sick, but not here. My grip seemed to remind her of her fear, and she sat down.

  I had seen this sudden bravery many times. It came from her healing. She was afraid of so many things. But her healing made her different. I had seen her risk death to save a drowning child. Many times she had walked among bandits to heal their sick. It was as if all her strength, all her bravery, went to healing, and there was none left for Celandine herself.

  The black healer caught the girl-child. She struggled as he clutched the diseased arm. She broke away from him and stared at the now-healed arm. He laughed.

  The host went up to him, and his voice carried in the sudden silence. “Sir, we are honored at your business, but your lady friend is upsetting the other guests. Would it please the most honorable healer if he would take her up to his room?” The man had bowed low but never took his eyes off the healer.

  What would the host do if the healer moved to touch him? The healer laughed again. “You should be honored that I come to this piss hole of an inn. I am of the highest rank of healer. I talk to your Gods for you. I face them when you cower in fear.” He was addressing the entire room now. “I hold the power that pacifies the Gods themselves. I consort with the demons of the pit. I do things that would crack your minds like brittle kindling.” And he walked over to the now-quiet farmers. “But you turn away from me when I show power. Oh, heal me, please, heal me. But then leave us alone. That’s how it is.”

  He went back to the girl, and she backed away crying. She begged him, “Please, let me go, please.”

  “Come, girl, it is time someone here learned what it is to embrace a black healer.” She screamed as he grabbed her. He pulled her toward the stairs. Her hand gripped the banister, and he tugged her. Her fingers slipped, and he grabbed her close to his body. He carried her like that up the stairs and paused at the very top. He yelled at the host, “Which room is mine?”

  The host made a half bow and said, “Turn to your right. It is the last door on that side. It is the nicest room in the inn.”

  “And it will be poor,” the healer said and walked from sight with the struggling girl in his arms.

  My fingers bit deeply into Celandine’s arm. Her blue eyes glowed with anger. But I thought some of it was directed inward at her own fear. There were white healers I knew who would have challenged him regardless of the cost. They would not let such evil go unquestioned. For once I was glad that Celandine was not so zealous. She would be killed for being a white healer, and I would be killed defending her. It was not the way I wanted to die.

  The first shriek sounded from upstairs. It cut through the fresh conversation and killed it. Everyone downstairs sat, waiting. A second scream came, piteous, all hope gone, choking sobs followed it.

  The farmers got up and paid their bill. Only the two fighters were left. And they, like us, were travelers with no other place to go.

  Celandine nodded. I motioned to the host, and he came over. There was a light dew of sweat on his face.

  “Good sir, we are ready for our room.”

  “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.”

  Celandine backed away from him but kept close to the bed and the girl. She called out to me, “Bevhinn!”

  He moved round to the foot of the bed to come at Celandine. I had to make my first strike deadly or all was lost. I listened to his breathing and his movements. I would go for stomach and chest, not knowing if he was facing me or not. Then he spoke again. “Such a pretty pair.” He was facing away from me.

  I rose and struck. The blade sank into flesh. I pulled it free and struck point first through his neck. The blade grated on bone and was through to open air. I knew where everything was now. I took five strikes to cut off his head. The smell of blood was thick and violent.

  Celandine said, “Bevhinn, you’ve killed him.”

  She was beside me lifting off my helmet. I felt her fingertips touch my eyes. I felt the pain again like a lance through my brain, and it was gone. I blinked.

  The black healer lay sprawled on the bed. His head was a short distance from his body. Blood soaked the bedclothes to drip on the floor. The girl looked up and smiled her gratitude at me. She paled only a little at the sight of the headless body. She had probably seen worse things in her stay in Lolth. Celandine retrieved the girl’s cloak and spread it over her torn dress.

  I cleaned my sword on the edge of the sheets and sheathed it. I forced open the wooden shutters on the window. I strapped my shield to my back, and scrambled out to kneel on the sloping roof. The girl crawled out to me, and Celandine followed.

  We slipped unseen and, hopefully, unheard to the ground. I led the way to the stables. We entered, and the boy scrambled down from the loft where he probably slept. I said, “Come here, boy.”

  He came, but he was afraid. I gripped him quickly and put a hand over his mouth. “Find some rope and cloth for a gag.”

  Celandine and the girl moved to obey. The boy’s eyes were huge with fear, showing the whites of his eyes. “Boy, we will not harm you.” He wasn’t convinced, and I didn’t blame him.

  When he was tied with some good-quality rope and gagged with a questionably dirty rag, I shoved him up in his loft. Hopefully, no one would find him before morning.

  We saddled the horses while the girl kept watch. So far no alarm had been raised. But sooner or later the host would raise courage enough to check the strange noises from the healer’s room. We had to be away before that.

  We led Ulliam and the horses out onto the road, but I motioned for them to follow me back the way we had come that day. When we felt it safe to talk, Celandine asked, “Why are we going back?”

  “We cannot go on to the next inn. You and the girl might be able to disguise yourselves, but Ulliam and I are not so easily changed. We could run back to the wild lands, but the Loltuns would chase us down. We are at least five days from the Meltaanian border. Every hand will be against us by morning. We must leave Lolth tonight.”

  “But how?”

  “We’re going back to the demon, Krakus.”

  “The help of demons?”

  “Let us hope so.”

  The girl rode our spare horse, and she rode well enough. We raced through the night, riding the horses hard because we wouldn’t be needing them much longer.

  We came at last to an area of newly cleared land. The demon’s shattered stumps and trees were piled high on either side of the road.

  I left Celandine and the girl-child with Ulliam and the horses. And I crept through the woods toward the two men who were guarding the demon. One was simple, a dagger thrust in the throat when he went to relieve himself. But the other stayed near the fire and kept his sword naked and near at hand. Guarding a demon seemed to make him nervous. Every time Krakus rattled his chains, the man kept staring back at the demon. I stepped up behind him and put my sword through his throat. I cleaned the blade in the tall grass and sheathed it. The demon was watching me with eyes that caught and reflected the fire.

  Heavy chains bound Krakus, but the keys to those chains glinted at the dead man’s belt. Celandine and the girl entered the clearing with the horses and Ulliam. The demon’s eyes flicked to them and then settled back on me. I said, “I would bargain with you, Krakus.”

  His voice was deep and seemed to come from a long way off, as if from the bottom of a well. “What manner of bargain?”

  “You teleport the three of us and the unicorn just across the Meltaan border at the city gates of Terl, and I will free you from your enslavement.”

  “I like this bargain, elf. Free me, and I will do as you ask.”

  “Not yet, demon. First we take blood oath so I know you will not desert us, or teleport us to a harmful place.”

  “Why would I do that to the ones who free me?”

  “Because you are a demon.”

  It laughed, baring white fangs. “I like you. You understand the way of things.”

  His voice sank even deeper until it was almost painful to hear. “But what blood oath could bind a demon?”

  “One to the hounds of Verm and the birds of Loth.”

  The smile vanished from his face, and he said, “Have you ever made blood oath with a demon?”

  “No.”

  He laughed again. “Then let us proceed.”

  I cut my right hand in
a diagonal slash. The blood was bright red and poured in a sheet down my palm. It stung with the sharp pain of all shallow cuts. The demon extended his left hand, and I sliced it. The blood was black and slow to ooze.

  We clasped hands and suddenly I felt dizzy. I stared up into those intent yellow eyes and said, “What is happening, Krakus?”

  “What always happens when you bargain with demons, warrior. I am taking blood price. But because this oath holds us both, you are getting my blood in return.” He hissed, “You are demon kin now, elf. Those who have the power will see the taint and act accordingly.”

  It felt as if someone had thrust a red, hot poker into my hand. Fire filled my veins. I fell to my knees, gasping in the cool night air. I could not afford to scream. If we were being chased, screams would bring them. That was the last thought I had before blackness engulfed me.

  I heard Celandine from a distance. “What if she dies?”

  “Then you will still be a prisoner because only she can free you.” The demon’s voice came. “It is the way of demon bargains, healer. The mortal must risk more than the demon. I cannot change my nature, not even to save myself.”

  I woke with the sky clearing toward dawn. The cut on my hand had been burned shut and formed a scar across my palm. It had not been Celandine’s magic that had closed the wound.

  She was there beside me. “How do you feel?”

  “Good enough.” I sat in the morning-damp grass, waiting to feel whole again. I got tired of waiting and called to my magic.

  It answered but with a difference. It seemed sluggish, as if it moved through thick air to reach me. My magic felt tainted, but there was no time to worry about it. I had to free the demon.

  The spring dawn was close, and the spring night still here. The world was poised between the two, so I called upon both. I drew the cool spring darkness and the soft call of an owl. I breathed in the first hint of dawn on the wind.

  A rabbit stirred in its sleep, and I took its dreams and wove them into my spell. The bark of a fox and the fleeting shadow of a nighthawk mingled with the aroma of fresh-turned earth. The power stretched like a second moon, swollen with spring’s bounty. I stood and cupped my hands, letting the magic fall into my palms like moonshine. I engulfed the diamond of the demon’s necklace in white magic. I felt the enchantment snap. Krakus bowed his head, and I slipped the necklace free of him. The diamond still glittered like warm ice, but it would take an enchanter to reactivate the necklace. For now it was only a piece of jewelry.