The spy hole opening into the room next to the Reeveas chambers revealed a meeting room of some sort when Sham sent her magelight through the opening to illuminate it. There were a number of uncomfortable-looking chairs surrounding a large, dark oak table. A space was left empty, the more visible for the uniformity of the spacing between the other chairsa"a space just wide enough for the wheeled chair that the Reeve used. Finding nothing of interest, Sham turned away and crossed the passage to look into the room next to hers.

White sheets covered the furniture in the room, protecting the valuable embroidery on the chairs from the dust that accumulated with disuse no matter how good the housekeeping was. She could tell from the shapes of the shrouds that the muslin-covered furniture was arranged in fashion similar to the last room shead seen.

Her nose wrinkled as a whiff of air came through the little hole and she frowned at the stench.

aBy the tides . . .a she swore softly, forcing herself to take a deep breath near the spy hole.

The Castle had been occupied for a long time, and all the rooms had their own smell. The Reeveas room had the musty-salt smell of leather, horses, and metal; her room smelled faintly of roses and smokea"this room smelled like a charnel house.

Increasing the power of the magelight, she sent it up near the chandelier so she could get a better look. There was a large table surrounded by fifteen high-backed chairs, all draped in white fabric. With better lighting, Sham could tell that the chair just opposite the oaken door had been pulled out of place. The dust covers made it difficult to tell, but it looked as if the chair faced the door rather than the table.

From the position of the spy hole, she couldnat see anything else. She walked to the passage door. The levers worked smoothly and the panel slipped back onto a track and slid easily out of the way, just as the door to the Reeveas room did. The full effect of the stench hit her when she opened the door, and she had to swallow hard before she entered.

She increased the intensity of her light again, as much for reassurance as for the increased visibility. The oddness in the placement of the chair seemed suggestive, and she remembered that the demonas pattern should have led it to kill again several days agoa"though no body had been found.

She took a step into the room and noticed for the first time that the polished granite floor near the oaken door was stained with dried blood. Breathing shallowly, Sham rounded the chair until she stood in front of it. From there she could see more blood stains on the floor, washing up in splatters against other furnishings and disappearing under the chairas covering. Between the door and the chair was a larger stain where there had been so much blood that it had formed a puddle. The rank smell of the rotting blood made her cough.

Oddly enough, the sheet covering the chair was virginally white, as if it had been kept clean purposefully. A shroud, she thought, not to hide the body it clearly outlined, but to frighten the poor maid who found it the next time the room was cleaned.

She forced herself to step forward onto the dark-stained floor near the chair. Not wanting to disturb the body any more than she could help, she was careful as she tugged the sheet off and tossed it on top of the table.

Sham had lived in Purgatory for a long time. The sight of a body, no matter how gruesome, did not bother her . . . much. It didnat require an intimate examination of the dead man before she deduced that whatever had killed her old master had also killed this man. Thin cuts covered his skin, just as they had Mauras.

His head had fallen forward, obscuring his features. The chances were slim that she would know who this man was; from the condition of the body, he had been killed near the time when she had moved into the Castle, but she had to look. Rather than moving the body, Sham crouched low so that she could look up into his face.

When she saw the bruised and battered death-greyed features, she swallowed hard against the terror that chilled her blood. This man had been dead at least three days, perhaps longer. Dead, Lord Ven wasnat nearly as handsome as he had been when she last spoke with hima"less than an hour ago.

THE REEVE SAT in his chair in front of the fire where she had left him; Dickon was nowhere to be seen. At Shamas abrupt entrance he looked up. He appeared so tired and worn that she wondered if she shouldnat find Talbot instead.

aWhatas wrong?a he said, turning his chair slightly and pushing it closer to her.

She bit her lip. aI found a body in the room next to mine.a The tiredness disappeared from his face to be replaced with animation, and Sham realized that it was depression as much as fatigue and pain that was bothering him. She wasnat sure that the discovery of his half-brotheras body was going to help his melancholy much. Without a word he passed her on the way to the opening that led to the passageway.

aKerim?a Her voice cracked with strain.

He stopped and looked at her inquiringly. Shamera bowed her head a brief moment before meeting his eyes. aItas Lord Ven.a She caught a flash of something in his eyes, before his expression flattened unreadably into that of a battle-hardened warrior. He nodded and continued through the passage door. Sham took a lighted candle from a nearby table, since shead doused the magelight before entering Kerimas chambers, and followed the Reeve.

Shead left the door to the room ajar and the stench had traveled into the passage. She brought the scented candle closer to her nose; it didnat help. Kerimas chair didnat fit easily through the narrow doorway; the hubs left deep mars in the wood as he forced it through. He stopped just inside the opening.

aHold your candle higher,a he said, the tone of his voice making it a request rather than an order.

Sham raised her hand and let the flickering light illuminate the room. She noticed the eerie shadows that jumped as the flame moved on the wick and was exceedingly grateful that she hadnat found the body by candlelight. Kerim looked over the scene carefully before he moved forward, stopping again to look at the places where Shamas feet had cracked the dried blood.

aMe,a she replied in answer to his unvoiced question. aThere was no sign that anyone had been here before I came in.a He nodded and circled the chair with its macabre occupant. She watched his face and knew that he noticed the pattern of the blood on the floora"the pool had been evenly distributed. Lord Ven had been killed standing and brought to the chair after he was dead, as evidenced by the trail of blood his heels had made. It was the large pool of blood that the Reeve would find most troubling. There was no disturbed area where a killer would have stood, absorbing blood that would otherwise have fallen on the floor, no bloody footprints where the killer had run away.

Sham pulled the white cloth off the table and held it so Kerim could see its pristine condition. aThis was covering him when I came in.a Kerim frowned and touched the cloth without taking it, rubbing it lightly between his fingers. He looked again at the stains on the floor and frowned.

aSomeone went to a lot of work to make this murder look odd,a he commented; Shamera didnat reply.

Finally he pushed himself over the stained floor and touched his half-brotheras face, tipping it up. Shameraas candle revealed the high-carved cheekbones and the wide, straight nose that both men shared before he gently let the head fall back down.

Silently, Kerim wiped his hands on his thighs, not to clean them but as an outlet for his excess energy. Without looking at her, he spoke. aMy brother has been dead for three or possibly four days. This room is cool, so it is hard to be certain.a aYes,a agreed Sham without inflection.

aI talked with him this morning.a aHe spoke to me an hour ago,a she replied evenly. aHe said that he had something to tell me in private, but Dickon came to fetch me before I went with him.a aThe demon.a Kerim stared at the body without seeing it. There was belief in his tone.

aI think so,a she agreed.

aI thought that it could only take the form that was given to it by its summoner.a His voice was neutral once more: she couldnat tell what he was thinking.

Sham shrugged. aSo I was tolda"apparently wrongly.a aIt could be anyone, then. Taking one personas shape then another as it chooses.a She shook her head helplessly. aI donat know.a aCome.a He spoke curtly as he wheeled out of the room, ignoring the grating sound of metal on wood as his chair caught the frame a second time. aShut the panel behind you.a Back in his room, she waited for him to speak. She had the feeling that he would be pacing if he could. Instead, chained to the chair, he shifted restlessly and stared into the fire.

Abruptly he wheeled back and around, so that he faced her directly. aMagic . . . Could you do this? Take the form of someone else?a Sham swallowed, not finding the Reeveas impassive face reassuring. aNo. Wizards, with very few exceptions, are not capable of doing that. Illusion, yes, but to maintain an illusion of a specific person well enough to fool people who know him, no. My master was once the greatest wizard in Southwood, fourth or fifth most powerful in the world; he could not have done this. Perhaps the Archmage could, but I doubt that he could do it for so long.a aYou think the demon can alter its form?a aThere may be another possibility,a said Sham slowly.

aTell me.a It was not a request, and she shot him a nasty look.

aPlease remember that, despite appearances to the contrary, I am not your mistress,a she snapped.

There was a touch of a smile warming Kerimas eyes as he restated his order. aI beg you, Lady, please touch these unworthy ears with the alternative explanation.a Sham rubbed her chin and sighed, murmuring as if to herself, aI suppose thatas good enough.a She cleared her throat and then resumed speaking. aI have never heard that the demons could change their appearance at will. Granted that demonology hasnat a great part in a wizardas education, but I would think that such an ability would have made it into the folktales.a Kerim broke in softly, aWhatever it is that has worn my brotheras appearance sounds like him, moves like him, and uses the same idioms of speech. This morning I spoke to him concerning an incident in our childhood, and he added details I had forgotten.a aThere is always the possibility that the demon is capable of such a thing,a she said, aa"but I hope not. The second possibility is not much better. The killer, be he demon or human, might have access to a rare golema"called a simulacrum.a Sham had been speaking Cybellian, but used the Southern words for golem and simulacrum as there was no Cybellian translation.

aWhat is a golem?a Kerim switched to Southern so smoothly, Sham wondered if he noticed.

aA golem is any nonliving thing animated by magic,a replied Sham in the same language. aPuppets are often used for such purposes as they are well suited to it, but anything will do.a She glanced around the room and pointed at a hauberk that was carefully laid out on a table. For effect she said dramatically, aIvek meharr votra, evahncey callenahardren!a The chainmail rustled, and the hauberk filled out as if there were a person inside the mail. With a discreet brush of Shamas magic, it rose to stand on the end links. This hauberk wasnat the one Kerim had worn the night of the Spirit Tide; its links were heavier, less likely to part under the force of a blow. Over the right shoulder the metal was a slightly different color where it had been repaired.

aGolems are largely useless for anything other than amusement now,a said Sham, making the mail shirt bow once, before it resettled itself on the table with a sound that might have been a sigh of relief. aIt is too difficult to create one big or complex enough to do anything useful. For one thing, they donat have a brain so the wizard has to direct every move.a Kerim was still looking at the hauberk. aIam not sure Iall ever be able to wear that again.a She grinned. aThatas what itas made for. If you donat use it, youall hurt its feelings.a He gave her a black look, spoiling the effect with the twinkle of laughter in his eyes. aBack to the golem.a aI told you about the forbidden black arts that have to be used to summon a demon,a continued Sham soberly. aGolems werenat always so useless. There are several kinds that may be created, if the wizard is willing to resort to black magic.a aBlack magic requires the use of sacrifices,a said Kerim.

aOr human body parts,a she agreed. aWhen creating golems though, human sacrifice is generally requireda"sometimes more than one, which is the case of the simulacrum. It can take on the aspect of anyone it slays for a certain period of time. It is my understanding that when not under the direct control of its master the golem functions like the person it has slain would.a She folded her arms and tapped her biceps with a finger, thinking for a moment. aI seem to remember reading that some wizards created golems for their demons to use when they carried out their masteras pleasures. I believe the purpose was to save the host bodya"which was much more difficult to create than the golem.a aI would have sworn that the man I talked to this morning was my brother,a said Kerim softly, some minutes after she finished speaking. aIs it possible that it is the body we found that is not my brotheras, but a careful copy?a aTo what purpose?a responded Sham. aI can think of many reasons for a demon to assume your brotheras shape; but none for anyone to kill someone and make it look like Lord Ven. If you would like, though, I could examine the body more closely.a Kerim shook his head and turned back to the fire. The light playing across his face revealed the sorrow that lived there. Briefly he closed his eyes.

aYou donat have any idea how to stop it?a He spoke in Cybellian, as if it were easier to hide his emotions in his own tongue.

Sham shook her head. aIam sorry. I have a word in with the Whisper, but that is the best I can do. Even if I could find a mage who knows anything about demonology, he wonat be anxious to admit to ita"it is forbidden magic. Any mage caught using it would be put to death by the wizardas guild if a mob didnat find him first. The Shark has a few wizards who work for him upon occasion who might know something, but no one keeps secrets better than a mage.a aCan you kill the demon once you find it?a aI donat know,a she answered honestly.

aSo,a he said heavily. aWe have a creature that we canat detect, killing people for an unknown reason, and, if by some chance we stumble onto this thing, we donat know what to do with it.a aThere is thisa"a she offered hesitantly, aa"the demon doesnat know we are aware Lord Ven is dead.a aIf we hide my brotheras body for a while longer, we might be able to trap it,a agreed the Reeve so readily that Shamera knew head already had the same thought. aBut what good does that do us if we have no way to kill the demon?a aI donat know,a replied Shamera. aI donat know.a

EIGHT.

Sham sat up abruptly as a low sound echoed through her darkened room. The bed was too soft and hampered her movements; she rolled off and crouched on the floor with her knife in hand. She didnat feel the presence of the demon, but lit the candles with a breath of magic anyway. The light revealed nothing out of place.

Once again the moan traveled through the room. The soft illumination of the candles dispelled the darkness and allowed her to put aside her initial fears. The sound was coming from the Reeveas chambers.

The frame had been badly damaged when the Reeve destroyed the door. His carpenters were having a difficult time replacing it, so the tapestry was still the only barrier to the Reeveas rooms. If the door had still been there, she would never have heard anything.

She lay down on the floor by the tapestried opening and remembered to extinguish the candles in her room before she rolled under the bottom of the heavy wool.

Flames crackled merrily in the Reeveas fireplace. It was Kerimas custom to keep the fire well fueled throughout the night to keep the room warm; poor circulation left him easily chilled. The fire provided enough light to allow Sham to see inside the large chamber. When she discovered nothing out of place, she came to her feet and saw what her lowly position near the floor had hidden from her.

Kerim lay stiffly on his bed. As she watched, his back arched and he gasped soundlessly, his face grimaced in pain. Apparently the miracle-worker his mother had found had done more damage than they had realized.

She thought briefly of allowing Kerim his privacy. When she was hurt, she always sought some dark corner to wait it out. Shead even taken a step or two back toward her room when another soft moan came from the bed. Enough, she thought, was enough.

The surface of the Reeveas bed was waist high, and she couldnat reach him from the floor. She put her knife on the corner of the bed and levered herself upa"gently so she wouldnat jostle him more than she had to. Leaving the knife where it was, she crawled up on the bed until she sat near him.

Magic was incapable of doing much more than concentrating the effects of herbal medication, speeding healing and setting bonesa"and even in that, Sham had little experience. Armed with nothing more than a rune that promoted health, a vague recollection of rubbing down her fatheras warhorse, and a bottle left on the dresser that smelled suspiciously like horse liniment, Sham set to work.

Kerim helped as Sham rolled him over until he lay face down on the bed. With three quick slices of her knife she rid him of the soft robe he wore. She was tossing the scraps to one side when another spasm twisted the still-impressive muscles of his lower back. The flesh strained and knotted beneath his skin, forcing his spine to twist unnaturally to the side.

She put a few drops of the liquid in the bottle on her hands and rubbed it into her skin. When she felt the familiar warmth begin to seep into her hand, indicating that it was indeed a liniment of some sort, she splattered it liberally on Kerimas back and set to work.

aRemind me to recommend you to the Stablemaster,a said Kerim, his voice tight with pain. aYou need to find more honest work than thievery.a aHonest?a questioned Sham, pressing deeply into his back with her thumbs. aIam the most honest thief in Purgatory, just ask the Shark. I pay him a copper a week to say so.a Kerimas laughter was broken by a gasp as another muscle spasmed. Sham moved up where it seemed the worst and poured more liniment onto her hands.

Shead heard somewhere that it sometimes helped to distract a person in pain. aIave answered some of your questions, would you mind if I ask you a question or two?a Taking his grunt as consent, Sham set the liniment aside for fear of burning his skin with it and rubbed the back of his neck. aDo you really believe Altis has awakened? That this religion of yours wasnat just created by men to fulfill their own purposes?a Kerim drew a deep breath and shifted his head. aOnce,a he said, as if he were a storyteller, athere was a young boy, the bastard son of a great lady. He was born a year after the Ladyas husband left on his never-ending pursuit of the perfect battlea"nine months after a warrior, traveling to another land, stayed briefly at the manor where she lived. Bastard son of the Lady, but no kin to the Lord, the boy learned early to keep himself out of everyoneas way. He was no one and less than nothing.a aOne day a young man came to the village near the estate where the boy lived. He spoke of a wondrous vision he had been given by an ancient god; a vision that foretold how the small war-torn country that was the boyas homeland would be powerful, as it had been in the distant past. At last the boyas life took on a purpose. He would become a great warlord, and his family would honor him for his skills.

aThat night he dreamed he was visited by Altis, who told the boy he would indeed grow to become a warrior of legends, that he would lead an invasionary force such as had not been seen on the face of the earth for many generations. Altis bestowed on the boy the gifts of agility and strength, but told him that he must win skill on his own. A man would come, capable of teaching the art of war.a Kerimas voice gave out briefly as Sham put pressure on a particularly tight area.

aTwo days later a man came looking for work. He was a soldier, he said, but willing to work in the stables if that were all an old man was good for. As it happened the stable had need of workers, and the man was given the job. He wasnat big, this man sent by Altis, but perhaps because of that he had spent much time studying fighting skills. He taught the boya"mea"how to battle and, more importantly, when. When the Prophet of Altis called upon the people of Cybelle, I went to him and followed where he led. I fought for Altis with the zeal only a boy is capable of; for him I became the Leopard. As you believe that magic is real, so I believe that Altis is real.a aYou donat have any of the trappings that most of the followers of Altis have,a she commented. aThere are no altars in this wing. I have seen how you revere the High Priest Brath.a Kerim snorted with what might have been a laugh. aAltis is real, but he is not my god anymore. A man learns things with age, if he is lucky. I woke up one morning and saw a field laden with bodies, and listened to His prophet dedicate that bloody field to Altis. I asked myself what Altis had done to deserve the lives of so many and whether he had done me a favor by creating the Leopard who had wrought such carnage. But I finished what I had started, fought to the last battle.

aAfter it was overa"as over as war ever isa"the prophet called me to him and told me to ask for a reward. It is not wise to refuse such an offer. Refusing a reward makes the ruler wonder if you are not looking for greater thingsa"like his position.a Her massage seemed to be having some effect; he wasnat tensing against the pain and his voice had recovered its normal tone. aI told him to send me somewhere a warrior would be of use. Hurt that I didnat ask for a position at his side, he sent me here, among the barbarians, if you will forgive the designation, while he rules the glorious Empire from Cybelle.a Kerim turned his head and granted Shamera a wry smile. aWhy are you interested in Altis?a aIt occurred to me to wonder if Altis would permit a demon to worship in his temple,a said Sham slowlya"though she hadnat thought of that until head been almost finished.

The Reeve considered her words briefly before shaking his head. aI donat know. I can tell you that there are any number of people who do not worship Altis: the Southwood nobles, like Halvok, Chanford, or even Lady Sky. For that matter most of the servants are Southwoodsmen and there are even a few Easterners, like Dickon, who decided that worshiping gods is a thankless task even before I . . .a Kerim broke off speaking as a wracking spasm took his breath. Horrified, Sham saw the muscles tighten and cramp, worse than it had been before. His back bowed impossibly; she expected to hear the crack of bone.

Discarding mundane methods, Sham traced the lines of the rune of health on his back where the turmoil seemed to be focused. She closed her eyes, seeking to visualize each muscle relaxing, forcing herself to draw the rune slowly so she would make no mistakes. Finished, she straightened, looking with magic-heightened senses at the rune shead completed.

The symbol glittered in orange and then began to fade, just as it ought. Kerim sighed and relaxed gradually. When only a faint visible trace of the rune left, it flared brightly, fading to a sullen red glow.

aBy the winds of the seven sea gods. . .a muttered Sham with true perplexity. The rune should have faded completely . . . unless the cause was unnatural.

It wants the Reeve more than it has wanted anything in a thousand years. The words of the blind stableboy echoed in her thoughts. The Reeve had begun losing his health near the time that the first slaying started.

Sham watched, thinking furiously, as the symbol darkened to black and Kerimas back began to spasm once more. Urgency lending cleverness to her fingers and power to her work, she traced another rune: a warding against magic. As she toiled, she could feel the rune touch a spell of binding that was beyond her ability to sense otherwise. Startled, she worked another spell.

Slowly, as if it were reluctant to show itself, thin yellow lines appeared. A rune drawn on living flesh had more power than was usual for such things, and this one was drawn by a demon. As the curls and line of the rune became clearer, she was able discern a rune of bindinga"source of the spell shead detecteda"though much of it she didnat recognize.

A harsh sound was driven out of Kerim as the muscles in his back tightened further. She set her hand tentatively on the demonas rune and began unweaving it. After several attempts, she realized it wasnat going to work. But there was another way, if she was fast enough and if the demon was slow enough.

Quickly, she began retracing the demonas rune, displacing the demonas power with her own and binding the rune to her. She had completed half the pattern, not nearly as much as she needed, when the demon began to steal back its work. It surprised her at first; she hadnat known that anything could work runes without being present. After only an instantas hesitation she started adding touches to the pattern, small things, nonsense things, parts of the rune that were wholly hers. Things the demon couldnat see.

Sweat beaded on her forehead as Sham struggled to break the demonas hold. For only an instant the demon became caught up in one of Shamas useless twists, but it gave her time to finish the rough outline of the main rune. The master pattern hers; she was able to dissolve the complications that blurred the simplicity of the rune, small additions belonging to her weaving and the demonas, destroying the demonas hold on the binding rune completely.

The moment the demonas hold broke, Kerim relaxed limply on the sheets. The hand Sham used to push her hair out of her face shook with fatigue. Taking a deep breath, she unworked the last of the rune, leaving Kerim free of any binding. That done, she stared at the room assessingly.

She had expected the demon to come to the chamber, but it had not needed to do so. Magic didnat work that way. Magica"all magica"was subject to a few laws, one of which was that a mage could only work magic where he was physically presenta"unless . . . the demon had a focus rune in the room.

aShamera?a questioned Kerim softly, without moving from his prone position.

aSsst.a She hushed him, staring out at the room.

The rune mark would be somewhere hidden from view, she thought, somewhere a mage wouldnat be likely to glance at casually. Her gaze fell on Kerimas wheeled chair. She rolled off the bed and tipped the chair over.

Kerim turned his head at the clatter of the chair hitting the floor. aShamera? What are you doing?a aIall tell you in a minute,a she muttered staring at the underside of the chairas seat.

The focus was easy to find. It was not drawn with chalk or cut into the bottom of the seat as she would have done it, but scribed deeply with magic, invisible to anyone not mageborn.

With a foul comment, Sham pulled aside the fire screen and rolled the chair into the huge fireplace. The flames drew back, as if the very nature of the mark repelled them.

She raised her arms over her head, chanting a lyrical incantation to aid the fire with the force of her magic. The flames grew suddenly brighter, licking with fierce hunger at the chair. Neither the theatrical gesture nor the chant had been necessary, but it suited her mood.

How stupid of her not to consider such an explanation of Kerimas aillnessa especially after the selkie, Elsic, had practically told her that Kerim was the focus of the demonas attack. Human magic was not suited for such use, but she had known that she was dealing with a demon. She knew there were creatures that fed upon pain and despair; certainly the demon had not consumed its other victims in a physical sense.

As she watched the orange tongues flick at the chair, she thought again of the selkieas warning: . . . more than it has wanted anything in a thousand years.

She spoke a spell that would expose any more runes such as she had found on Kerim, but there were no more in the room. A focus rune, though was much less powerful than an active rune unless it was being used and would not reveal itself easily to her spelling, nor would any other simple rune.

There was no real reason to suspect a second focus rune. They were uncommonly used, for the same reason familiars were avoideda"if destroyed they could seriously hurt the mage whose creatures they were. All the same, if the Reeveas selkie was right, Kerim was important to the demon. She turned on her heel and strode back to the bed.

aShamera, why did you throw my chair into the fireplace?a Kerimas voice was abnormally reasonable.

Ignoring him, Sham yanked on the heavy down-filled tick that had settled at the foot of the bed. She searched it thoroughly before throwing it onto the floor. Muttering nastily, she started to tear away the sheets, and her hand touched a section of the robe Kerim had been wearing. With her heightened senses she could almost see the magic imbued in the fabric.

The rune on the robe was a lesser one, not a focus rune but another binding runea"far simpler than the one Kerim had worn. It was the sort of thing one would put on a animal so that it would not wander away. Far easier, she thought, to turn such a simple rune into a stronger, more powerful sign than to try it from scratch. The great mages, she knew, used to transfer a rune from one surface to another. The means had been lost to time, but perhaps the demon still knew the method. Kerim could have been ensorcelled again by morning.

As she stepped through the assorted bedding on the way to the fireplace with the remnants of Kerimas robe, Shamas foot knocked her knife from the folds of the tick and sent it clattering across the floor. She scooped it up and continued on her way.

The flames were still spitting high with the magic shead fed them earlier. With the addition of the bedrobe, they turned purple and shot up through the chimney with such force that it dislodged months of old ashes. As the soot fell into the fireplace, it was consumed in the superheated flames, creating a shower of bright sparkles like a thousand falling stars.

Sham started back toward the bed when she heard the slight scuff of the asecreta panel sliding open behind her. She jumped sideways with reflexive speed, holding her knife in a fighteras grip as she turned to face the gaping opening in the wall.

For a moment nothing happened, and she took a cautious step toward the dark passage doorway. The dim glint of light on metal was her only warning as a sword swept through the air.

Frantically, she threw herself to one side, rolling over the top of a waist-high table to put it between her and the sword wielder. As her attacker stepped toward her, the firelight threw his face into high relief.

aVen?a said Kerim, incredulously.

Even knowing that this could not possibly be the Reeveas brother, Sham couldnat detect anything about the man that appeared unnatural, not even the aura of magic that shead felt when the demon had attacked her before.

aWhat do you want?a she asked, snatching a heavy, leather-covered shield from the wall and heaving it at the golem as she tried to get some distance between herself and the creature. The knife she held was balanced for throwing, but she didnat want to use it and lose her only weapon.

aMine. He is mine,a hissed the thing that wore Lord Venas body, knocking the shield aside easily as he slid over the table that blocked his path.

aNo,a answered Sham as the creature started toward her in a trained warrioras rush.

She took three steps back and rumpled the rug under his feet with a touch of magic. He stumbled heavily, but recovered faster than shead hoped: many automatons were clumsy things. Twisting and scrambling, she evaded him, managing to nick his arm with her knife as she slipped past him. She saw the blood on his arm, but knew it had been chance more than skill on her part.