Wesson was relieved when the procession stopped to water the horses around midmorning. His rear was sore from riding for so many days after spending the majority of the past couple of months on a ship. Besides that, it seemed the entirety of Gendishen was devoid of shade, and although the autumn breeze was cool, the sun was still scorching. He wiped his forehead and looked up at Rezkin. “I have no idea where to begin.”
Rezkin handed him a leather pouch, which Wesson discovered contained pottery shards. Rezkin said, “These are the remains of the vessel that housed the demon in Ferélle. It is covered in runes. I thought it might shed some light on the subject.”
“You were carrying these around with you?”
“I did not want to risk losing them, so I kept them in my pack.”
“I see.” Wesson picked up one of the pieces, rolling it over to examine the runes. He said, “I think … I think I have seen something like this before, a long time ago. I once found a vessel with similar markings. It was empty but whole. I did not know what to make of it at the time. I could be wrong, though. I was young. Maybe it was just an unusual design.”
“What can you tell us about this one?” said Farson.
Wesson scratched his head and tugged at an errant curl. “There was one other place I have seen similar markings.” He glanced at Farson. “You have seen them, too.” Farson and Wesson both looked at Rezkin.
“What?” said Rezkin.
“It was the first time we were in Ferélle, when we met the Adana’Ro. Just as you walked through the ward that Mage Threll and I constructed, we caught a glimpse of markings nearly covering your body. It was rather obvious at the time due to your state of undress.”
“It is true,” said Farson.
“They were these markings?” Rezkin said in alarm. Although he had heard people call him one often enough, he did not want to be associated with demons.
Wesson shook his head. “I cannot say for sure. It was only a brief flash. I think they were not exactly the same but perhaps written in the same language.”
Rezkin said, “Connovan told us the markings on my skin were made by the Sen to document the events of death and resurrection, or retrieval, as they called it; but, according to the histories, the Sen were forbidden from performing demon magic. The Sen are said to derive their power from Nihko, Goddess of Death and the Afterlife. It is Nihko’s power than binds our souls to our human vessels. Demons are the product of Nihko and Rheina, and they reside in the realm of H’khajnak. In order for them to enter this realm, they must be bound to a vessel. Perhaps these runes bind them to the clay pot in the same way that the shielreyah are bound to Caellurum.”
Wesson nodded. “That would make sense. Perhaps this is where I went wrong with the stone men. I crafted the power into a spell that I attached to their persons, but spells are sometimes fickle when attached to living beings because we are in a constant state of change. These runes would not change, so they would hold the spells better.”
“How would you do that?” said Farson.
“Well, as is said to have happened with Rezkin, they could be tattooed on, or branded, or scarred. One could be temporarily drawn in ink, chalk, or stain.”
“What about blood or feces?” said Rezkin.
Wesson looked at him sharply. “Yes, but that would also invoke blood magic. Contrary to popular belief, blood magic is not always restricted to the use of blood. It could be any part of a living creature: blood, hair, feces, saliva …”
“The drauglics’ ukwa was covered in feces. I did not think it strange at the time since that is supposed to be typical of their kind.”
“The feces could also have been covering more permanent marks,” said Farson. “Did Healer Aelis or Boulis have any marks?”
“I do not know if anyone checked,” said Rezkin. “I doubt anyone thought to look.”
Wesson said, “It would be helpful if I had some runes to study—besides these, I mean.”
“If we kill another demon host, then you shall have some,” said Rezkin.
Wesson shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. “I was thinking about, perhaps, someone more—alive—and more available.” He stared at Rezkin hopefully.
“You mean me?”
Wesson shrugged.
Farson glanced over to the rest of the cavalcade and said, “It is time to go. People are getting either too comfortable or restless.” He nodded toward one group that appeared to be having a particularly heated exchange. “I believe the Leréshis and Gendishen are about to wage war.”
For the rest of the trip to the capital, they did not discuss the demon issue, although they alerted their close companions to maintain vigilance and report anything strange. As they rode into the city accompanied by the unit from Fort Ulep, Wesson pulled up beside Rezkin. He said, “I think it is the purifiers.”
Rezkin glanced at him. “Why do you say that?”
“I feel much negativity from them. Every time I look at them, I become furious.”
“That is to be expected, regardless. They commit genocide against your kind.”
“Perhaps we could check them for runes.”
“I doubt they would allow that.”
“You could encourage them.”
Rezkin raised a brow at him, and Wesson felt a tiny bit bad for suggesting it. No, he decided, he did not feel bad about it at all. He said, “Perhaps if we tell them we are looking for demons, they will consent.”
“They will more likely just point to you.”
Wesson glanced back at the four purifiers riding toward the rear of the procession. He mumbled, “Perhaps we should kill them anyway.” He turned back to find skepticism in Rezkin’s gaze but no judgment. Wesson said, “They have been trying to attach their leashes to me the entire trip.” Glancing back, again, he said, “Look, now there are two more.”
Rezkin said, “You knew that would happen when you insisted on coming.”
“If I were not so strong, I would be dead already—burned at the stake like all the other innocent mages. How can these people not be demons?”
“It is easy to blame the horrors and injustices of hate on demons, much harder to credit our fellow human beings. We do not like seeing such terrible defects in ourselves. The irony is that demons do not act out of hate or contempt. They are begotten of chaos, and it is that which they seek to spread in the same way that we often seek order. It is simply their nature.”
“So, you are saying humans are worse than demons.”
“Only in their motives,” said Rezkin. “The results are the same, except that demons wield power most humans cannot defend against.”
“You know a lot about demons.”
Rezkin nodded. “I have been learning much about the old gods, about how we fit into their design. The Ahn’an, the Ahn’tep, and the Daem’Ahn have a fascinating history, and it has been insightful.”
“I have heard none of this from the priests of the Maker,” said Wesson.
Rezkin said, “Since Minder Finwy has insisted on following me everywhere, you are in luck. Perhaps we should discuss the matter with him on the return trip.”
Wesson glanced back at the minder who was riding a little too close to the purifiers for his taste. Then, he glanced at Yserria and Malcius as he turned back around. The two always rode side-by-side, but he had not seen them speak in days—at least, no more than the occasional snide remark. Yserria had been simmering ever since the bond mark appeared on the side of her face. She had asked Wesson to examine it at least a hundred times; and, every time, he obliged. Still, he knew of no way to break it short of death.
Their procession was led to the palace, rather than the council’s overgress. Wesson’s hackles rose as they approached. Two lines of purifiers, at least twenty of them, were stationed along the path. He knew they were all there for him. As soon as they were within range, he felt their tendrils of power testing him. It was not a full-on assault, but he knew that if any of them succeeded in attaching a binding spell, they would swarm him.
Rezkin glanced at him and said, “You have my approval if you wish to make an example of some of them.”
Wesson fancied the thought but said, “That might start a war.”