Page 17 of Paladin's Faith

His lips twitched. “Birds don’t get rabies. Are you implying that I’m being overly cautious?”

“Just a tad.”

He glanced at Marguerite, who attempted to shrug as diplomatically as possible.

“Very well.” Shane bowed his head and led the way downstairs, although she noted that he was still wearing the massive sword across his back. That can’t be comfortable. Though I wonder if he even notices it anymore.

She discovered on the way down that she was extremely sore. Falling off a horse was no joke when you were over thirty. She limped until Shane stopped at the bottom and looked back up the steps, then stiffened her spine and gritted her teeth.

The inn was half-full of people, a mix of travelers and locals. There was also a paladin in one corner, with his eye swollen shut and his arm in a sling.

“Demon,” he said cheerfully, when Marguerite and her two paladins made their way over to him. His good eye traveled over Wren’s axe and Shane’s sword. “It’s in a damn big steer. I took out one of its legs, or thought I had. But you know how they are—they don’t understand that a broken bone means you shouldn’t use it. So it kicked me with the damn leg that was broken and gave me a broken arm to match. Probably hurt it worse than it hurt me, though that’s not much consolation.”

Marguerite winced. “Can we buy you dinner?” she asked. You treated demonslayers well as a matter of principle, but it also occurred to her that her own two paladins might appreciate the show of solidarity. And I certainly don’t have to worry about them having been bought.

The injured paladin grinned at her. His tabard had the closed-eye sigil of the Dreaming God on it, but there seemed to be nothing more to his voice than rueful good humor. “The innkeeper’s already taken care of that, but the sympathy of a pretty lady is always appreciated if you’d like to join us for dinner…or dessert.” He winked at her.

Marguerite chuckled. “You have all my sympathy, but don’t get any ideas. I’m afraid I might hurt you worse than the demon did.”

He put his good hand over his heart. “Cut to the quick. Do you see this, Ramsey?”

Ramsey, who was apparently the priest sitting next to him, rolled his eyes heavenward. He was older, his dark, tightly curled hair cropped close and threaded with gray. “Do you see what I have to put up with?”

“Where’s the demon now?” asked Shane, who had clearly not stayed in the Dreaming God’s temple long enough to understand the fine art of conversational flirtation.

Ramsey signaled for more drinks as the trio pulled up chairs. “Still wandering around the pastures. We’ve got spotters on it, but we’ll have to wait for the temple to send out another paladin.”

“Could we be of any assistance?” asked Wren.

“Saint of Steel?” The priest looked from one to the other. “I don’t know. Can you fight demons?”

“I was trained in the Dreaming God’s temple until my seventeenth year,” said Shane quietly. “I cannot speak well in the imperative mode, but I can help to bind.”

“I don’t know jack shit,” said Wren cheerfully, “but I can chop the legs off a bull one at a time if I have to. And we’ve both helped the Dreaming God’s people before.”

Marguerite wondered what the hell speak in the imperative mode meant, and filed it away to ask about later. I am acquiring quite a number of things to follow up on when I get the chance.

The priest shared a glance with the paladin, then smiled across the table at them both. “Then my friends, you may be the answer to my prayers.”

NINE

“You know, we do have the fate of the world’s economy resting on our shoulders,” said Marguerite, as they got up entirely too early the next morning. She was sore from her fall and she knew that it was probably making her cranky, but she couldn’t quite stop.

“I apologize for the delay,” said Shane. “Truly.” He was armed and armored and gave every appearance of having been awake for hours. Marguerite considered pushing him down the stairs just on principle.

“It’s a demon, though,” said Wren. “You know.”

“I know.” Marguerite sighed. Apparently one of the things you didn’t ask paladins to do was to walk away from situations where they could help. Shane, at least, had asked permission. Wren had just looked at her like a small child who has been promised a day at the fair. Still, if I didn’t give permission, the Dreaming God’s people have the authority to deputize damn near anyone in pursuit of an active demon. And I really don’t want to start off with my hired muscle resenting me. “Just don’t get killed or grievously injured, I beg of you.”

“We’ll try to avoid it,” said Wren happily.

“Truly, it should be easy enough,” said Sir Xavier, the paladin of the Dreaming God. “It’s already on three legs. If my sword arm wasn’t broken, I could do it without breaking a sweat.”

Marguerite hoped it was really that easy. This is what they do. This is their job. They know how to do this. And I really do not want to go back to Beartongue and ask for replacements. If one or both of the paladins died in pursuit of their mission, Marguerite would grieve and move on, but she was hoping to at least reach the Court of Smoke before the bodies began racking up. Losing a paladin before they were even halfway there would look extremely careless. And I would really prefer to have two at court, thank you very much.

“Can I watch?” she asked. “I’ve never seen a demon exorcised before.”

Shane frowned. “Certainly not. It’s much too dangerous.”