Masques (Sianim #1)(34)

"You were right on your first guess, it is a spell. It's a rather crude representation of how to summon a demon."

"Demons?" asked Aralorn. "I didn't think that there were any such things, or do you mean elementals, like the one that tried to kill Myr?"

Wolf tilted his head and then laughed without humor. "This from a shapeshifter? Yes there are demons, I've summoned them myself. Not many magicians are willing to try it. Mistakes in the spellcasting can be dangerous, and it's getting difficult to find a virgin who can be forced to submit to the process. The ae'Magi never had a problem with it, though; his villagers could always produce some sort of victim.

"This depiction was not entirely accurate: it isn't necessary for the magician to participate in the sexual activities unless he wishes to."

Wolf continued to talk, outlining the practices of summoning demons. It wasn't something she'd want to listen to on a full stomach, and if Aralorn hadn't been a mercenary she wouldn't have been able to sit coolly through it all - but a reaction was what he wanted, and she'd be plague-stricken before she gave it to him. So she maintained a remote facade while she listened. This, she decided, was his way of driving her away after the closeness of last night.

"... Afterwards it is necessary to dispose of the focus, or the demon will be able to use her again to return without summoning. The blood of a woman used in such a fashion is valuable, as is the hair and several other body parts, so the proper method of killing the girl is to slit her throat," His voice was clinically precise. His glittering eyes never left hers.

She listened to his detached description of the horrors he'd committed and decided that she must be in love, because what she really heard was the self-directed hatred that initiated his lecture. Doubtless he'd participated in the twisted ceremony of demon summoning and probably worse. Aralorn was even more certain that it now revolted him as much as he intended it to appall her.

She waited until he was starting to run out of details, cupping her hand under her chin in feigned boredom. Then she said, "Fine. You're a vile person. You've done things that a normal human being would find abhorrent. All right. You've stopped doing them ... I hope. Now can we get back to work?"

There was a long pause; then Wolf commented in the same dry tones he'd been using before. "You are frustrating at times, aren't you?"

She grinned at him. "Sorry, Wolf. I can't help it; melodrama has that effect on me."

"Pest," he said, his tone not at all affectionate, but then his voice seldom showed what he thought.

"I try," she said modestly, and was pleased when his eyes warmed with humor.

Deciding that the crisis was over, she walked to a bookcase several rows away from the table, out of sight of Wolf, to give them both time to calm down and sort things out. Absently, she plucked a book from a nearby shelf. She started to open it when it whisked itself out of her hands and leapt back on the shelf with a loud thud.

She stared at it for a minute, and then at Wolf, who was seated half of the room away with his back toward her, muttering to himself as he wrote. There was no one else in the library.

Carefully this time, without opening it, she picked up the book and examined it. Now that she was paying attention, she could see the faint magical aura that was just barely visible woven into the cotton that covered the thin wood that lent the cover its hardness.

She dutifully presented the book to Wolf for inspection. It was hardly a surprise when he found that it was indeed trapped. He broke the spell easily enough and gave it to her without a word.

She sat down with the book, for lack of anything better to do. It contained the autobiographical history, exaggerated, of a mediocre king of a long-forgotten realm. As a distraction, it ranked right up there with sewing and digging holes in the dirt.

"Wolf," she said, staring at her open book.

"Hmm?"

"Is there someone besides us in your library?" She kept her tone carefully nonchalant.

"Hmm," he said again, and there was a quiet thump as he set his book on the table. Aralorn did the same. He tapped the dark wooden surface of the table. "What prompted you to ask?"

She told him of her odd experiences, leaving out the last incident to spare herself his censure. When she was through he nodded, commenting, "I've seen a few things that cause me to consider the possibility that there may be something here. These mountains have a reputation for odd happenings, like Astrid's guide through the cave, A ghost or spirit of some sort would not he out of place."

* * *

WHEN THEY LEFT THE CAVES IT WAS STILL LIGHT OUTSIDE. THE skies were slightly overcast, but the wind was from the south so it was warm enough. Aralorn took a deep breath of air and Wolf's arm at the same time.

Smiling, she asked, "Have I thanked you yet for rescuing me from the tedium of mopping the floor of the inn for another six months, or however long Ren decided to leave me there?"

His stride broke when she took his arm, but when she spoke he resumed his customary gait. "No, I don't believe that you have. I am certain that I will find the proper way for you to express your gratitude. I noticed just today that the library floors are starting to get a bit dusty."

Aralorn laughed softly and quickened her pace a bit to keep up with him. He noticed what she was doing and slowed his stride until her shorter legs could keep up.