Demon Lord III - Grey God (24 page)

"My thoughts
exactly."

"Who is second
in the council, and does he possess courage?"

"Indeed yes,
Lord. But that is the Queen herself."

"I see."

Sharri shot
him a timid look. "She cannot be put in danger."

"Of course
not. Bane will not be pleased."

Inwardly he
cursed, knowing that Bane was more likely to be furious, since the
dark power despised even the most courageous humans, a coward would
arouse enormous contempt in him.

Kayos looked
up as Tarris entered the chapel and ran forward to prostrate
herself at his feet.

"Rise, child,
and be of good cheer," he said.

She lifted a
tear-streaked face. "My lady is enslaved, Lord!"

"Do not
despair, Bane will free her."

"Will he? It
was not part of the bargain."

"He agreed to
cast Vorkon down. After that, freeing her will be a simple matter,
I assure you."

"But he
failed!" she wailed, and Sharri hissed in censure.

"That was only
the first attempt, unplanned and ill conceived. He will succeed."
Kayos turned away from her despairing gaze. "We go to the Blue
Council to enlist their aid, and you are coming with us. But first
I require you to attend the Demon Lord. He was wounded in the
battle, and he needs nourishing food, a good broth would be ideal.
Will you perform this task?"

"I will be
honoured, great lord."

"Good. See to
it then."

Tarris bowed
low, and Kayos strode out as the priestesses fell to their knees.
As he walked away down the corridor, they began to sing praises to
his name again. Returning to the cramped, bare room, he found Bane
lying down, his eyes closed. Mirra sat with Mithran and Grem on the
floor, and they broke off a soft conversation at Kayos' entry. He
settled on the chair.

Bane muttered,
"I hope the nursemaid that you found is not some simpering acolyte
who will cringe and whimper when she sees me."

"No. Tarris is
here. I asked her to tend you."

Bane snorted.
"She is afraid of me too."

"I suspect
that only your lovely wife is utterly immune to your powers of
intimidation, Bane."

"No. Sometimes
she is afraid of me too."

Kayos glanced
at Mirra, who opened her mouth to protest, then closed it and
looked away as if remembering something. "Everyone has the ability
to instil fear in others at some time, in a fit of rage
perhaps."

"But only I
can do it just by breathing."

"That bothers
you, does it not?"

Bane sighed.
"There was a time when I enjoyed it, and soon I will again. It
would make a refreshing change to be treated as a normal
person."

"But you are
not. How can they, unless they do not know who you are?"

"Then I wish
you would stop telling them."

Kayos
chuckled. "Unfortunately, at the moment it is necessary. They all
know that I can do nothing to help Drayshina. You are their only
hope."

"Yet they look
at me like I am a monster, not their saviour."

"That will
change as they learn to trust you. It would help if you were a
little friendlier."

The door
opened, and Tarris entered carrying a tray laden with bowls of stew
and a cloth. She put the tray on the table and took a bowl over to
Bane, bowing to him.

"I brought
food for you, Lord."

Bane raised
his head and cast Kayos an impatient glance. "Is this the plan? To
shovel food into me?"

"It will help
to restore your strength."

"I am not
hungry."

Tarris looked
nervous. "Would you like to refresh yourself first, Lord? Perhaps
that will make you feel better."

"I feel well
enough," he said, and Kayos shook his head in censure at his tone.
Mirra started to rise, clearly intending to relieve Tarris of her
chore, but Bane held up a hand and she sank down again, biting her
lip. Mithran and Grem averted their eyes, which Kayos suspected was
because they knew of his dislike for being the centre of
attention.

Bane held out
his hand to Tarris. "Bring me the cloth."

The priestess
put the bowl down and dipped the cloth into the hot water, wringing
it out and offering it to him with downcast eyes.

The Demon Lord
took it, noting that her hands trembled. He wiped his face, then
handed it back. She replaced it on the tray and picked up the bowl
of broth again, returning to his bedside. Bane looked up at her and
took the bowl.

"I do not
bite, Tarris."

She flushed.
"No, My Lord, of course not."

"Then why are
you shaking?"

Tarris clasped
her hands, biting her lip. "I - I do not know, Lord."

"I see." Bane
tasted the broth, finding it rich and good.

Tarris handed
bowls of porridge to the trio who sat on the floor, receiving nods
and smiles. After standing irresolute for a moment, she sat down on
the empty chair, facing Bane, to his surprise.

"How were you
injured, Lord?"

"He skewered
me with his sword." Bane gestured to his flank with his spoon,
dripping gravy on his trousers.

Tarris jumped
up to fetch the cloth, but he raised a hand. "Leave it. Sit."

She sank down
again. "Is the wound bad, Lord?"

"It was, but
Kayos healed it."

Tarris cast a
shy glance at the Grey God, who appeared to be lost in thought,
then turned back to Bane. "Did you also injure Vorkon, Lord?"

"Several
times, but since he is dead it had little effect on him." Bane eyed
her. "Will you do something for me, Tarris?"

"Anything,
Lord."

"Stop calling
me 'Lord'."

"Yes, Lord."
She clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening. "Sorry."

Bane smiled,
turning his attention to his bowl of broth once more. Tarris was
surprised to see that the gravy spot on his trousers had vanished.
After only a few more spoonfuls, Bane handed the bowl back to her,
and her face fell.

"Is it not to
your liking?

"It is fine, I
am just not hungry."

"You should
eat more, to build up your strength."

Bane shook his
head. "I have had enough."

"You have
hardly eaten any."

"Are you going
to argue with me, Tarris?"

"Lord Kayos
said you must eat."

"Lord Kayos
can go and jump in a lake." Bane frowned, and she put the bowl down
on the table, then collected the tray and left.

Mirra looked
up. "You should try to eat some more, Bane."

He wagged a
finger at her. "Do not start."

"You know I am
right."

"That does not
mean I am going to do it."

Bane lay back
down on the bed and closed his eyes. Tarris brought him two more
meals that day, but did not try to engage him in conversation again
or argue when he did not finish the food.

Shevra looked
up from the frayed trousers that she was darning, meeting her
mother's eyes. Andira sat opposite, sewing a patch onto one of her
husband's shirts, and also paused, listening. Outside, a faint
cheering grew in volume as more voices joined in.

Shevra jumped
up. "The supply wagons!"

Dropping her
sewing, she raced to the door, yanked it open and ran out into the
street, where a glorious sight greeted her. Two huge wagons rumbled
into the town, each drawn by a team of six massive, beautiful
horses that drooped with fatigue. The drovers chivvied the tired
beasts along the last stretch of their journey to the town square,
and Shevra ran after them. The wagons halted, and the crowds
gathered around, eager for news and supplies, many of the men
pulling small carts.

Everyone had
stopped what they were doing to greet the long overdue wagons,
which was not much, anyway. Shevra elbowed her way to the front as
the smartly dressed soldiers jumped down, silver weapons slung on
their hips. Only one wagon carried supplies for the town, the other
was for the soldiers' equipment and rations, since the journey from
the city took two weeks. A platoon of weary, footsore troops
followed on foot.

The plump,
middle-aged mayor, resplendent in his chain of office, forged
through the crowd to meet the captain. Shevra wriggled closer to
listen to what they said.

The captain
saluted. "Sorry for the delay, sir."

"You're a
welcome sight, Captain. What was the problem?"

"A broken
axle. We will need the services of your blacksmith to repair it
properly, once the wagon is off loaded."

"Of course.
We'll repair it while your men rest."

"Thank you,
sir."

The mayor
turned to the throng of eager men at the front of the crowd, whose
job it was to off load and distribute the supplies. "All right, get
to work."

Men swarmed
over the wagon while others unhitched the horses and led them away
to the barn where they would be brushed, fed and watered. Hay and
feed was off loaded from the second wagon for them, and the
soldiers' tents were pitched around the town square. The tired
troops and drovers relaxed, some talking to friends amongst the
towns folk, sharing long-awaited news. A young, round-faced soldier
approached Shevra, holding something behind his back. She had
spoken to him on two earlier trips, and he seemed to like her. He
smiled as he stopped before her, blushing.

"I brought
something for you."

"Thank
you."

His smile
widened. "You don't know what it is yet."

"I'm sure it's
wonderful, whatever it is."

"It ain't
much. We're not paid a lot, and we're not allowed to bring stuff."
He shuffled his feet.

"Are you going
to show me what it is?"

He nodded and
held out a clay pot, which held an amazing green and pink object.
Shevra gasped, staring at it.

"What is
it?"

The young
soldier's smile faded. "It's a flower plant."

"A flower ...
plant." Shevra murmured, reaching a tentative hand towards it. "May
I touch it?"

"Sure, it
won't bite."

Her fingers
brushed the soft green leaves and fleshy stem, then stroked the
satin petals of the pink flowers. A strange, heady fragrance came
from it. "It's alive."

"Yes, of
course."

"Of course."
Shevra's eyes stung, and two tears escaped to run down her
cheeks.

"Don't cry,
it's supposed to make you happy, not upset you."

"I am happy.
It's so beautiful. I've never seen anything like it before."

The soldier
looked uncomfortable, glancing around at the crowd of women and
children who had gathered to stare at the plant. "Yeah, I don't
suppose you have, living out here in this hell hole. It won't live
for long, but I thought you might like it."

"I do! Thank
you, Marik." Shevra reached up to kiss him on the cheek, startling
him.

"Here, take
it." Marik thrust the plant at her. "Put some water in the pot when
the soil gets dry. It might live for a week or so."

"It's going to
die?" Shevra looked horrified.

"Of course,
there's no sun here."

"Then you must
take it back, so it can live!"

"There's
plenty more in the city."

Shevra shook
her head. "Even so, I can't be responsible for its death."

"It's just a
plant."

Shevra brushed
a tear from her cheek. "Look around, Marik. There's nothing alive
here except for us, and when you come, your horses. Nothing. Not
even a blade of grass. I've never seen grass, I've only heard of
it. This is a miraculous, precious living thing, a creation of the
goddess. I can't let it die."

"Well I'm not
carting it all the way back to the city. If you don't want it, I'll
throw it away."

"No!" Shevra
clutched the precious plant. "I'll try to keep it alive."

"It won't live
here."

"Then I'll...
treasure it while it lives."

"Goddess, next
you'll be giving it a bloody funeral!" Marik turned and stomped
off.

Shevra gazed
after him, and the crowd shuffled closer to stare in awe and wonder
at the plant, reaching timid hands towards it. Shevra let no one
else touch it, but ran to find her mother and show her the wondrous
thing that she now possessed.

Andira gazed
at it in awe, stroking its leaves, as did her father when he
returned with their supplies. Its fragrance soon filled the shabby
house, and Shevra placed it in the centre of the kitchen table
where all could admire it.

Many people
visited to see it, bringing their children, and elders came to nod
and smile at the pleasant memories that it seemed to evoke. After
supper Shevra left the plant in the care of her mother and returned
to the square to seek Marik, feeling that she owed him something in
return for his gift. On the way she met Derrin, who promptly
followed her, asking questions. At sixteen, he was still a gawky
boy, but had the promise of becoming a tall, handsome man one
day.

"Where are you
going?" he demanded.

"To find
Marik."

"Why?"

"Because I
want to."

"Is he your
beau now?"

Shevra cast
him a frown. "No."

"He gave you a
plant."

"So?"

"So that means
he likes you."

"What do you
know about it? You're a child." Shevra walked faster.

"I know
plenty!"

"You only
think you do."

"Are you going
to dance for him?" Derrin trotted to keep up.

"Perhaps. But
if I do, it will be for all the soldiers."

"Maybe they'll
throw you some coppers, then you'll have a plant and you'll be
rich."

She laughed.
"Perhaps."

"If Marik
likes you, maybe he'll take you to the city with him."

"I won't go
without my parents."

"I suppose
not."

They arrived
at the town square, where the soldiers loitered around a roaring
bonfire, talking. There was little else for them to do, since their
rations did not include alcohol, and the food was only dry biscuits
and salted meat. Most of the town's young girls were already there,
trying to ingratiate themselves in the hope of gaining a ticket to
the city. The soldiers were cautious, but enjoyed the company and
the flirting. Shevra searched for Marik, and Derrin spotted a girl
whom he liked and darted off after her. She found Marik on the far
side of the fire, staring into it. He jumped up when she stopped
before him, looking flustered.