Page 136 of Paladin's Faith

“Yep. One nudged me in the ribs, but I stayed limp, and thankfully they weren’t interested in making sure. After they marched you all off, I worried someone’d be back to loot the bodies, so I made sure I wasn’t there for it.” She smiled sheepishly. “And so I’ve been sitting here for the past half-day, trying to figure out how to stage a rescue. Which fortunately you didn’t need, because about all I could come up with was using a beer wagon full of black powder to take down a wall, and I didn’t have that much black powder, which meant I needed a load of horse piss, which someone wasn’t willing to provide.” She glared at the barkeeper, presumably for his failure to stock large quantities of urine behind the bar. The man smiled weakly, clearly glad that someone had come along to distract the terrifying old woman.

“It’s the thought that counts,” said Marguerite.

“Not with explosives, it isn’t,” said Ashes, and on that point, Marguerite had to agree.

“Your task is simple enough,” said Wisdom, tapping a spot on the map. “The steading here has been raiding us for the better part of a year. They take our sheep and sometimes our children. I want them eliminated.”

Shane raised his eyebrows. “And you think I can do this singlehandedly?”

“I have faith in you,” the demon said. Shane didn’t know if it was unconscious of the irony or simply chose not to acknowledge it. “There are perhaps two dozen people there. Only the warriors need to die.”

“If there are only two dozen, why haven’t you stopped them before?”

Wisdom laughed softly and went to the window. “Come here.”

Shane approached warily. The demon pointed down, into the courtyard below, where a half-dozen people were drilling with swords. Erlick walked around the perimeter, shouting orders.

Shane looked the troops over with a practiced eye. Three of them were boys who probably didn’t need to shave yet. One was a man who might be the boys’ grandfather. The only two who might have crossed swords with him and lived for more than a moment were two middle-aged women with their skirts tied around their legs.

“Behold my army,” said Wisdom, with a grand sweep of its arm. “Inspiring, are they not?”

“The prison guard—”

“Bruno. The only other man of fighting age here. He can see about ten feet in front of him, so long as the light is good.”

Shane stared at the demon. “But when you captured us—”

“Archers. Nine of them, mostly under fifteen or over fifty, and Rory, born with a club foot, who cannot run. They also fill our stewpots with game.” It smiled down at the troops and if it had been human, Shane would have believed there was fondness in its gaze. “Shortbows only. We had two crossbows in the entire keep. Now we have three, thanks to your pursuers. Though they killed Sebastian in the process, and put one of my best archers out of commission until her arm heals.”

“I’m sorry,” said Shane, almost absently. My god. Wren and I could have taken this entire keep by ourselves. Hell, I could probably still take it by myself.

Something tugged inside his chest and he looked up sharply. Wisdom raised its eyebrows at him. “Don’t forget me,” it suggested.

“No,” said Shane. “I won’t.” He looked back down. “How did this happen?”

“This holding was in decline for years,” Wisdom said. “Then a rival clan descended on it. They slaughtered all the warriors and many of the rest. Then they took what they wanted and left.” The demon folded its arms across its chest, looking back down into the courtyard. “I found them a few days later. The survivors would not have lasted the winter, but I walked my host down to the nearest large town and jumped to a merchant. Then I drove all his stock here and told them that it was a gift from Wisdom.” Its teeth flashed. “I did that three times. By the time I arrived in this body, calling myself Wisdom, the people were feeling very well-inclined toward me.”

“So you killed three innocent merchants,” said Shane.

“One was a cheat and a liar, and one was going to die soon no matter what I did. The third one…yes. I regret the third one, I admit. He was a fair man and he did not deserve to have his mind torn in half. But these people also did not deserve to starve.” The demon stared broodingly out the window. “It is hard to be a god, and to make a god’s choices.”

“Do you actually regret it?” Shane asked. “Can you?”

“Does that surprise you, champion?” Wisdom looked at him unsmiling. “We pour ourselves into our hosts like whiskey into a barrel. You are not surprised when the whiskey tastes of the barrel, or the barrel smells of whiskey, are you?”

“Souls seem more complicated than whiskey.”

Wisdom barked a laugh. “Don’t tell Erlick that. He was a distiller before the raiders killed his family. But yes. First we must learn the lessons of physical bodies. Most of us are caught by your paladins then. If we live long enough or come back often enough, we may begin to learn other lessons. I know sorrow and regret and grief. And responsibility to my people.”

“Yet you still want to become a god.”

The demon smiled, showing teeth. “How else shall I best take care of my people? And how else shall I avoid taking these lessons back to the abyss with me, and dwelling for eternity on my failures?” It stretched. “My reasons are not entirely selfish, but neither are they entirely pure. They are only entirely mine. And now I wish you, my champion, to go and make certain that these troublesome raiders no longer trouble me and mine.”

Shane grimaced. “Do they have innocents among them?”

“Very likely.” Wisdom smiled. “And that is where I come in. We’ll see if a demon can stand in for a god, shall we?”

It took them five long days to reach the town that had an outpost temple of the Dreaming God. There was an easier route, the locals said, one with inns and traveler’s rests, but it took twice as long. Marguerite thought of Shane in the hands of a demon and simply started down the shortest road. Not even Davith argued.