Triplet

  There was the sound of shifting blankets as Ravagin’s dim form elbowed itself to a sitting position in front of her. “Why?”

  She hesitated, her dread giving way slightly before the fear that this was going to sound crazy. “Remember first of all that it was only when they realized we were out-worlders that they froze up and kicked us out. We wondered at the time whether that meant they didn’t have some power or authority over us that they needed.”

  “I remember,” Ravagin said, the first hint of impatience creeping into his voice. “This couldn’t have waited until morning?”

  Danae licked her lips. “No, I don’t think so. You see, we were exactly backwards. It wasn’t that they couldn’t do something to us. It was instead that we could have done something to them. Or rather, that the rest of the Twenty Worlds could.”

  “Danae, would you kindly refrain from mentioning—”

  “Look, Ravagin,” she hurried on, “what would happen if the two of us disappeared on Karyx? They’d stop sending people in, wouldn’t they, at least until they had some idea what had happened?”

  “Not necessarily. We’ve lost people here before.”

  “Lost them dead, yes, but not totally missing. Right?”

  “All right,” he sighed. “For sake of argument, let’s say they’d close down travel here until they found us. So why should Coven care about that?”

  Danae took a deep breath. “Because they don’t want access to the Tunnel cut off. Because they’re using it to get into Shamsheer.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Ravagin snorted. “Spirits can’t pass through the Tunnel.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because they’re not humans, and only humans can pass through the Tunnel.”

  “That’s an assumption,” she pointed out, shaking her head. “An assumption based on the belief that Triplet is only three worlds. But we know now that there are really four here.”

  “So what does the number have to do with anything?”

  “It tells us that when we invoke spirits we’re bringing them across a world-world boundary. Which says immediately that under certain conditions spirits can pass between worlds.”

  “Well … all right, maybe here they can. But the Shamsheer-Karyx boundary is different.”

  “Why?”

  He was silent for nearly a minute. “It still doesn’t make sense,” he said at last. “Spirits can’t get into Shamsheer—otherwise the place would be crawling with them.”

  “How do you know it isn’t—?”

  “And furthermore,” he cut her off, “why would they bother? What does it gain them?”

  “Maybe it’s an extension of what they’re going for here: control of the human society.”

  “Oh, come on, Danae—aren’t you letting your imagination run away with you just a little?”

  “We agreed that the Karyxites are growing ever more dependent on spirithandling and spirit-enhanced items, didn’t we?” she countered doggedly. “Isn’t Coven proof enough for you that that dependency is being deliberately pushed by the spirits themselves?”

  He exhaled slowly. “Yeah. Coven. Demons in charge of a spirit-trapping operation. It is a pretty strong indicator, I’ll admit—but only insofar as Karyx is concerned. I don’t buy the Shamsheer invasion bit. For starters, there simply isn’t a good mechanism for them to get across the teleport.”

  “Why can’t they just drift across?” she suggested. “They’re noncorporeal, after all. Or even come out melded with a traveler, maybe in a fractional-possession state.”

  “Nope,” he shook his head. “The early explorers to Karyx did some careful experiments along those lines and pulled a straight zero. The telefold treats spirits like local objects and won’t pass them. Period.”

  “Or at least it didn’t back then,” she argued. “Doesn’t prove the spirits haven’t come up with a new approach that does work. What about that sleepwalking syndrome you mentioned—God, was that only yesterday? You’ll recall that Melentha’s fractional-possession checks didn’t turn up anything, but I was sure under some sort of influence.”

  Ravagin hissed thoughtfully between his teeth. “You sure were,” he admitted. “I suppose it’s possible. But it’s hard to believe the telefold could be fooled like that.”

  “Why not? We know even less about the telefold than we do about Karyx’s spirits. Besides, if there’s no invasion under way, we’re back to not knowing why Coven let us go in the first place.”

  “So how’s that different from where we were this morning?” he said dryly. “Get off the bed, will you?”

  “What are you doing?” she asked as she stood up and took a step back.

  “Getting dressed, of course,” he grunted. His dim figure swung its legs out of bed, and there was the sound of rustling cloth. “You are suggesting we head out to the Tunnel right away, aren’t you?”

  She opened her mouth, closed it again as all the warnings she’d heard about nighttime travel on Karyx flashed through her mind. “Uh … no, not necessarily. I mean, it would be dangerous. Wouldn’t it?”

  “Sure it would. But if you’re right about all this, the demons are likely going to wish they’d kept us in Coven after all … and the longer we stick around, the longer they’ve got to find out about it and correct their mistake.”

  A shiver went up Danae’s back. “God. You’re right. Come on, let’s get moving.”

  “I’m glad you agree,” Ravagin said. “… Oh, hell.”

  “What?”

  “Damn. Well, it’s just that I had Melentha double-secure the house tonight in case you decided to contest my decision by skating out on us. We’ll have to get her to ungimmick it.”

  Danae felt her stomach knot up. “Can’t you do it by yourself? I know there are spells to release spirits you didn’t personally trap.”

  “Yeah; and most of them are tricky beyond belief, either in execution or in consequences if you don’t do it exactly right. I’d rather just wake her up and tell her we’re leaving early. We don’t have to tell her why.” He stood up, reached to the nighttable for his short sword. “Come on; let’s go.” Taking her arm, he started toward the door—

  And abruptly the room blazed with green light.

  Ravagin had the faster reflexes. “Man-sy-hae orolontis!” he shouted before Danae could do more than throw her arm up to shield her eyes against the sudden glare.

  But to no avail. The green light remained steady … and as Danae’s eyes adjusted she realized with a gut-wrenching feeling that it was coming from a ring of glowing green shapes spaced along the walls surrounding them.

  Green demon shapes. “Ravagin—” she gasped in horror.

  The slamming open of the room’s door cut her off. “Fool,” a deep, mocking voice came from the hallway. “Did you really think a simple spirit-protection spell would avail against me?”

  Danae caught her breath as that voice clicked in her mind. “Ravagin—that’s the demon-possessed man who talked to us in Coven—!”

  And Melentha walked into the room.

  Chapter 23

  IT WAS, A DISTANT part of Ravagin’s mind seemed to whisper, like a replay of Coven. Danae standing half behind him, hostile spirits all around them, a demon-possessed enemy in front of them.

  Except that this time the enemy was Melentha. Who should have been a friend.

  Melentha, how could you have let this happen?

  “Ravagin,” Danae breathed tightly in his ear. “How did it get here?—and through all her defenses, too?”

  “It’s a different demon, Danae,” Ravagin told her in a low voice. “And unfortunately, it was probably invited. Stay calm and let me do the talking, okay?”

  Melentha glided to a stop facing them, an amused smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You were right, Ravagin; it was a good idea to double-safe the house. One never knows about these things, does one?”

  “I guess one doesn’t,” Ravagin said, forcing his voice to remain steady. For the moment,
at least, it was still a battle of wits, and the last thing he could afford was to panic. “So now what? The reasons behind your friends’ decision back at Coven still hold, you know—you still risk a whole pack of trouble if you keep us here.”

  “True,” Melentha nodded. “But now the risks of letting you leave are even stronger.”

  “What risks?” Ravagin scoffed. “Danae was just speculating through her hat on this—we know it, and you know it. The only thing we’ve got at all is that you’re trying to make the human population of Karyx dependent on you; and if that’s news to anyone at the Crosspoint Building they deserve to be surprised. The indications have been there for a long time; you can ask Melentha if you don’t believe me.”

  Melentha’s eyebrows raised slightly. “You are naive about these things, aren’t you? You think one partner or the other has to be submerged in this type of symbiosis?” She shook her head. “You’ve been influenced by the old Earth scare-legends of spirit possession, I’m afraid.”

  “Sorry if I offended you—either of you,” Ravagin amended. “So it’s a symbiosis, is it? Interesting. Clear enough what the demon gets out of the relationship—mobility on Karyx, a clearer view of the physical world, and access to human information. What exactly does Melentha get out of it?”

  “Much the same sorts of things as the demon does,” she said. “Immediate and continuous access to the spirit world, mainly.”

  “And that’s worth giving up your freedom over?” Danae put in harshly.

  Melentha turned glittering eyes onto her. “I would suggest,” she bit out, “that you stay out of conversations you don’t understand. You don’t even have Ravagin’s pitiful access to the spirit world—how could you possibly imagine the depth of my knowledge and ability?”

  “Oh, maybe she can imagine it a little,” Ravagin shrugged. “After all, she’s been in communication with a great power, and I’d wager that’s something you haven’t done.”

  For just an instant an inhuman fury filled Melentha’s face. “Yes, the demogorgon,” she bit out, her expression turning to stone. “We’ll deal properly with it some other time. But thank you for reminding me. That contact of hers gives me that much more reason to prevent your return to Threshold.”

  Ravagin felt his mouth go dry. That hadn’t been the reaction he’d been trying for … “Uh-huh. Again, I suggest that keeping us here will open more of a hornets’ nest than you can really handle at this point.”

  “Why? Because an experienced Courier gets himself and his client killed on Karyx? Come, now, Ravagin—that happens often enough. No one’s going to get into a major loop over it.”

  “But perhaps Cowan mal ce Taeger of Arcadia will,” Danae said.

  “Who?” Ravagin frowned.

  “He’s a billionaire politician/industrialist or something,” Melentha said off-handedly. “All right, little girl, tell me: why would someone like that even notice, let alone care, if Ravagin turns up dead?”

  “I’m his daughter.”

  Ravagin twisted his head around to stare at her. “You’re what?”

  “His daughter.” Danae kept her gaze on Melentha. “Ravagin’s right, Melentha—you can’t just make us go away like a pair of unknown tourists.”

  Melentha’s eyes flicked to Ravagin, back to Danae, and her tongue snaked out to flick at her upper lip. “You’re bluffing,” she said at last. “You aren’t any relation to mal ce Taeger—you just read his name somewhere and made all this up.”

  “There’s always one way to find out,” Ravagin told her. “It’s the hard way, of course.”

  Melentha’s gaze returned to him … and this time there was no mistaking the hesitation there. She was in a bind, and both she and her companion demon knew it. “I suppose we’d better talk about this, then, hadn’t we? Come with me. You—” she looked at Danae—“will stay here.”

  Turning abruptly, she strode from the room. As if on unspoken signal, the ring of demons shifted position, sweeping inward to form two sides of an aisle between Ravagin and the door. “Okay,” Ravagin said, turning back to Danae. “Try to relax—maybe get some sleep if you can.”

  She clung to his arm. “Wait—you can’t go with her. She might—who knows what she’ll do to you?”

  Gently, he disengaged her hand. “If she’d decided to kill us, she wouldn’t be wasting time with talk,” he reassured her. “They’ve just finally realized they’ve bitten off more than they bargained for, and I think they’re going to try and negotiate themselves out of the corner. So just kick back and free-float; I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Without warning, her arms looped around his neck, pulling his head down for a brief but intense kiss. “Be careful,” she whispered as she reluctantly let go.

  “You bet. You, too.”

  Turning, he headed off between the lines of demons, trying to walk boldly despite the slight trembling of his knees. Beneath his tunic, his skin prickled at the spirits’ close and deadly presence; deeper within him, his stomach was tight with the anticipation of the delicate negotiations facing him. And on his lips, he could feel the lingering impression of Danae’s unexpected kiss.

  Gritting his teeth, he concentrated on the memory of that kiss.

  The door closed, and Danae was alone.

  No; not quite alone. A single green figure floated in the air between her and the door.

  For a long moment she eyed the ghastly shape, wondering what her chances were of dashing past it and out the door to freedom …

  The demon gazed straight back at her. Swallowing hard, she turned away and stepped over to the window.

  The demon didn’t follow, nor did he try to stop her as she lifted the edge of the curtain and looked out. Not that that was any real surprise. The post line below was hard to see in the dim starlight, but the shadows the posts cast were clear and sharply defined. “Esporla-meenay,” she called on sudden impulse, and was rewarded by a pair of flashes from the post line: one green, one red.

  The red was new. “I see Melentha’s added some djinns to the post line,” she commented over her shoulder. “You suppose that means she doesn’t trust your fellow demon out there to keep us in?”

  The demon at the door didn’t respond. All right, Danae: calm down, stop babbling, and think, she berated herself. What do you know about spirithandling in general and demons in particular?

  Precious little, she had to admit, and virtually nothing that looked like it might be of any use in getting her out of this mess. Even if she somehow managed to get past her watchdog, getting through the post line would take more skill than she possessed. Possibly more skill than even Ravagin possessed.

  Gartanis.

  Carefully, Danae turned her head. The demon was still there, was still watching her with inhuman stillness. Turning back to the window, she licked suddenly dry lips. This could be dangerous … but Melentha had surely given the demon instructions not to hurt her, at least not until she’d made a decision as to their disposition. All in all, a risk worth taking. “Haklarast,” she murmured, as softly as possible.

  The glow-fire of a sprite appeared before her. “I am here, as you summoned,” it squeaked.

  “Go to Besak, to a man named Gartanis—”

  And the demon pounced.

  It was over almost before it began. One instant the hazy glow was hovering in front of her; the next instant the demon’s swooping dive had intersected it and it was gone. Quick and bloodless …

  Leaving nothing but a horrible wail that rang in her ears long after it had faded from the room.

  Knees shaking, Danae groped her way over to the bed and collapsed onto it. “You will have no communication outside this place,” a deep voice told her.

  She looked at the door, half expecting to see Melentha standing there. But it was only the watchdog demon. Ravagin had been right; they did all sound alike. “Go back to hell,” she told him tiredly, closing her eyes.

  “I do not accept commands from you,” he said.

  Sh
e glanced back at him, wondering if he was being sarcastic. But if he was, it didn’t show.

  Snap out of it, girl. Getting back to her feet with an effort, she walked over to the window again. Posture affects attitude, her father had been fond of telling her, and she wasn’t going to be able to work up much defiance while slouched back on a mattress.

  For all the good defiance would do her. All right. The sprite incident had shown she would at least have time to do a simple invocation before the demon could interfere. Invoke the demogorgon again, see if it could or would help her? No; it took far too much time—and besides, the incense she needed was back in her own room. The manifold geas that she’d tried back in Coven? Melentha had even less reason to make her spirits subject to outside commands, but still—“Harkhonistrasmylikiheen!” she called. “Move aside.”

  The demon didn’t budge. Well, that’s twice now that hasn’t worked, she thought bitterly. Still, she could hardly have expected Melentha to have left that big a loophole in her spirit protection ring. Melentha was smart enough … but she was arrogant, too, and in Danae’s experience arrogance usually led to carelessness. If she’d thought to close all the big loopholes, perhaps she’d accidentally left some of the little ones open.

  Something simple, then. A dazzler or firebrat, perhaps? No; a demon couldn’t care less about either of those. A doppelganger, then? It would depend on how demons perceived the physical universe, but it might be worth trying during a mad dash out of the house. At least it would slow down any of Melentha’s human lackeys if any were around tonight.

  Except that between her and that mad dash was the demon. And the post line. And no allies but Ravagin, who wasn’t any better off than she was.

  With a sigh, she leaned on the window sill and stared dejectedly outside … and so happened to be gazing directly at the post line when it flickered again with its red and green lights.

  Danae caught her breath, biting down on her tongue to keep silent. Red and green flashes … the sign that someone had just done a spirit-detection. Ravagin? But he was closeted with Melentha somewhere. And there was no one else in the house who would be likely to do that spell just for the hell of it.