Prince of Demons

by Mickey Zucker Reichert

  “Do you like what you see?”

  The question confused Ra-khir. “Excuse me?”

  “Do you like what you see?” Asha repeated, this time outlining herself with a gesture.

  “You mean you?”

  Asha giggled. “Yes.”

  Ra-khir froze, trapped by his honor. “I don’t know you well enough to know. I don’t dislike you.” Ra-khir had the distinct feeling he had not answered the proper question, but this seemed like a strange situation for riddles.

  One of the other girls cleared her throat. Asha glanced at them, then turned with obvious reluctance. She headed back over, walking with a pronounced wiggle that Ra-khir noticed only from a momentary glance. As soon as she seemed finished conversing, he stuffed his sword into his pack with the intention of making a graceful retreat. But even as he hefted the pack and headed for his horse, another of the girls approached him. Black hair, with just a hint of curl fell to her shoulders, and large brown eyes peered out from a round face. A bit thinner and less endowed than her companion, she approached him with obvious hesitation. “Hello,” she said.

  This time, Ra-khir just nodded a polite greeting, wondering if he would have to carry on trivial conversations with each in turn.

  “My name is Carlynn. You were great out there.” She gestured vaguely toward the field.

  “Great?” Ra-khir repeated carefully, uncertain of the topic.

  “Spearing those rings.” Carlynn stabbed at the air with a simulated pike. “You did great. Best one out there.”

  “Thank you,” Ra-khir returned, trying to keep his reply simple so as neither to disparage nor display too much pride in his accomplishment or her compliment.

  Carlynn scratched at her shoulder, a gesture that seemed nervous. “I noticed you didn’t leave for the midday meal like the others.”

  Ra-khir had no wish to detail his social situation. “I wasn’t hungry.”

  “You must be starved now.” Carlynn sounded genuinely worried for him. “A big man like you missing a meal and waiting so long for the next one.” She touched the padding on his forearm. “Do you have someone to make you supper?”

  Ra-khir shrugged. “I’ll just head down to the Knight’s Rest and get something there.” Talking about food reminded him of his empty stomach, and it rumbled audibly.

  “That sounds good,” Carlynn said.

  Ra-khir whistled for his mount. The gray head rose, and it paused momentarily, as if deciding whether it wanted grass or to obey its master more. Resignedly, it walked toward him, stopping only once for another mouthful. Ra-khir cursed himself for not bringing a carrot. Treats reminded the animal why it enjoyed coming to his call.

  “Well,” Carlynn said glancing toward her companions. “I guess I should head home.”

  Relieved for his solitude, Ra-khir finally fully joined the conversation. It was not so much that he enjoyed being alone as that he wanted loved ones, not strangers, with him. “That seems prudent. Your mother’s probably got your supper on the table and is wondering about you.”

  “No.” Carlynn lowered and shook her head. “My mother serves at the Knight’s Rest. She won’t get home till late, and she brings supper then. Her share of what’s left. Most times it’s enough to feed me and my brothers and sisters all right.”

  Ra-khir stifled a wince, knowing what had to come next. He had planned to eat alone, nursing his food and his thoughts, concentrating on his training to alleviate the pain in his heart. Yet he would not allow this woman to go hungry. She seemed far more pleasant company than her friend. An evening of conversation might distract him from brooding, and he had promised Kevral to see other women. “Why don’t you eat with me? Your mother will be there to see you’re not lost, and it’ll save her a mouth to feed.”

  Carlynn smiled, pretty in the twilight, though Ra-khir felt no particular attraction to her. “I’d like that very much. Thank you.”

  “If you and your friends could just give me a moment of privacy to change, you won’t have to endure the stench of my sweaty body all through the meal.”

  Carlynn laughed, the sound a bit throatier than her companion’s giggle, yet still coquettish.

  Ra-khir worried for his manhood that he found the sound silly rather than alluring. That concern, and his previous memory raised other doubts. He had never considered the significance of falling in love with a woman he had once mistaken for a boy. Am I crazy? His two nights with Kevral told him otherwise. Her femininity excited him wildly. It was Kevral he loved, not her appearance; and he found other village girls shallow because he could not help but compare them to her.

  Carlynn dashed back to the others with unbridled excitement, and Ra-khir pulled fresh clothing from his pack. Hiding behind the horse, he peeled off clinging padding, replacing it with a clean tunic and breeks. He longed for a bath, too; but that would have to wait. By the time he finished, Carlynn waited alone.

  “Ready?” Ra-khir steered his horse around Carlynn, taking a position between it and her.

  Carlynn placed a small hand on his arm. “Ready.”

  They headed for the Knight’s Rest Tavern, Carlynn clinging to Ra-khir. Feeling like the object of a contest, Carlynn’s living trophy, Ra-khir walked quietly in the moonlight and wished he was with Kevral.

  * * *

  The Knight’s Rest Tavern had existed for centuries, its location, size, and proprietorship changing nearly every generation. The name and reputation, however, never seemed to change. It catered to the knights, its higher prices discouraging the usual lot of revelers and brawlers. Locals worried for their purses or persons tended to come here, willing to pay extra for the security; and visitors from other parts of the West chose it to catch a glimpse of or conversation with the legendary Knights of Erythane.

  Carlynn ate with a dainty slowness. In contrast, Ra-khir seemed to bolt his food, though he made every effort to painstakingly chew and swallow. With each careful portion, he fought the hunger goading him; and, gradually, his stomach calmed enough to relieve him of the burden of concentrating on eating. Manners came naturally, from years of training. Sluggishness did not.

  Shallow small talk and the need to watch the speed of eating did distract Ra-khir from his loneliness, though it did not draw him closer to his dinner companion. Carlynn’s mother had clucked and cooed over him like a farmer acquiring a prize bull, and she slipped them special extras and the finest portions. The treatment made Ra-khir uncomfortable. He did not have enough money to cover what she gave him, but chivalry obligated him to pay. He saw no choice but to give her all the silver his father had left him and spend the next two days until Kedrin’s return scrounging what he could from their meager larder.

  The night wore on, the inn windows blackening as if painted. Restlessness assailed Ra-khir, but politeness kept him still in his seat, nursing his third mug of watered fruit juice. The splash of ale that purified the water added a bitter aftertaste he had scarcely noticed after the first two helpings. Now it kept him drinking at Carlynn’s snail’s pace. He had exhausted every strategy for keeping his attention on the woman and her superficial conversation. He wanted nothing more than to return to his father’s empty cottage and sleep.

  At irregular intervals, the door to the Knight’s Rest opened, flashing bars of moonlight across the interior. Most of the patrons glanced at every newcomer, but Ra-khir properly kept his gaze on his own companion. He sensed a presence at his back only a moment before his father’s familiar voice boomed out a welcome. “Ah. Here you are, Ra-khir.”

  Ra-khir stiffened, then whirled, an enormous grin appearing suddenly on his face. Kedrin stood beside his son’s chair, the red-blond hair meticulous, the green eyes shining, and every fold of his clothing in perfect order. He sported a blue and black shirt with orange at the cuffs and a pair of tan britches, a jaunty combination of the Erythanian and Béarnian colors that knights always wore. “Papa!” In his excitement, Ra-khir used the child’s term rather than his usual respectful “Father.” Leaping fro
m his seat, he hastily executed the proper gesture of regard before enveloping Kedrin in an excited embrace.

  The greeting lasted only moments, as politeness demanded introductions. “Carlynn Diega’s daughter, my father Knight-Captain Kedrin Ramytan’s son.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Carlynn said.

  “My pleasure completely.” Kedrin bowed, as if to nobility, and Carlynn averted her eyes with a flirtatious smile. As the woman looked away, Kedrin immediately turned his attention to his son. “We’ll talk when you’re finished here.”

  Ra-khir found the notion of waiting even a moment a torture. His father’s early return might herald a tragedy in Béarn, but that worry scarcely diminished the excitement of Kedrin’s arrival. “We’re finishing now.” He inclined his head toward the woman. “Carlynn, would you like anything more?”

  Decorum decreed Carlynn decline. Coyly, she peeped around her black hair, then gradually restored her gaze to Ra-khir. She studied him fondly, with the shining attentiveness of a lover. “Another fruit juice would be nice. And I hoped you would walk me home.”

  Ra-khir felt horse-kicked. He nodded once, revealing nothing of his disappointment. “As you wish.” He turned Kedrin an apologetic look. “I’ll meet you at home?”

  Kedrin returned a stiff confirmation. “I’ll wait for you there.”

  Ra-khir wrestled impatience as Carlynn drank her juice, conversation a burden as his thoughts slipped repeatedly back to his father. Carlynn’s words drifted past him mostly unheard, despite his best attempts to concentrate. Always, he caught enough of her words to reply, though he raised no topics of his own. The drink seemed to take an eternity to disappear, and the hovering of Carlynn’s mother grew from interested concern to a bother. Still, Ra-khir held his tongue and clung to his mannered upbringing.

  At last, Carlynn finished and grinned at Ra-khir as if they shared some deep and special secret. “I’m ready to go home now.”

  Ra-khir scrambled to his feet before he could think to try to make the gesture appear less joyful. Carlynn did not seem to notice or, perhaps, she interpreted his swiftness more to the anticipation of walking together in the dark, quiet streets. She slipped past him, toward the central portion of the inn leaving Ra-khir to empty his pockets of coinage on the table.

  Ra-khir caught up with Carlynn and ushered her from the common room into the cool night air. She shivered at his touch, though he had placed his hand on her back only to hasten her. She leaned against him, snuggling into his armpit, and it seemed rude to move away. With a deep sigh that he hid from Carlynn, Ra-khir left his arm around her, using it to propel them a bit more swiftly than Carlynn’s ambling gait would otherwise allow. To his relief, she remained mostly silent now, although she glanced repeatedly at him; and, when he looked back, he caught the edges of moon-eyed stares before she glanced away.

  The walk seemed unbearably long to Ra-khir, and he felt like an only child trapped for hours at an adults’ feast. Though he responded to Carlynn’s occasional comment, the words seemed not to relate to him, as if another controlled his mouth and Carlynn chatted with this stranger. At length, he reached her family’s cottage. Red light glowed in the largest window, a reflection of the fire beyond where father and siblings gathered. Born and raised in Erythane, Ra-khir realized she had taken him far out of his way to reach this place. A more direct route would have sufficed.

  Ra-khir removed his arm and stepped back. “Good night.”

  Carlynn batted her eyes and gave him a look as innocent as a newborn foal’s. “Surely, you’ll come in and meet my family.”

  Ra-khir fought annoyance, worried that Carlynn might find a way to keep him indefinitely. Chivalry tore him in two directions: he should accept her invitation because she wished him to do so, yet remaining with her too long might imply that he wanted them to become a couple. Raising an expectation he had no intention of fulfilling seemed at least as bad as refusing. He considered his wording several moments so as not to offend. “Thank you, Carlynn, but no. I haven’t seen my father in more than a week, and I really should get home.”

  “It won’t take long,” Carlynn promised.

  So far, everything with Carlynn had consumed far too much time. “I’m sorry.” Ra-khir remained polite but adamant. “Thank you, but I have to get home.”

  Carlynn shifted toward Ra-khir, near enough for him to smell the mixture of perfume, dinner, and her own defining scent. “I’ll see you again?”

  His social area violated, Ra-khir retreated slightly, shifting as if by accident. “You know where to find me,” he said, hoping it would do. He had no intention of wasting another evening on tiresome, meaningless conversation and kittenish games.

  Carlynn took another step toward him, which more than regained her the closeness his movement had lost. “You may kiss me.”

  The words, and Carlynn’s closeness, brought a hot flash of animal desire that Ra-khir would never have known to feel before his night with Kevral. Humiliated by his body’s betrayal, he recoiled with more abruptness than proper. “Carlynn, no. That wouldn’t be a good thing.”

  “Oh,” Carlynn said, disappointment clearly etched on cheeks just starting to tinge red. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push. I’m really sorry. I really am. I just didn’t think . . .” She broke off, clearly stammering, and her discomfort sent a jolt of guilt through Ra-khir. He had not intended to embarrass her. “Please don’t hate me.”

  “Of course I don’t hate you,” Ra-khir soothed, wishing for more to say yet afraid to stir false hope. He now knew for certain that she wanted him to love her, and he also felt sure he never could. An image of Kevral came instantly to mind, her childlike blue eyes filled with all the wonder of the universe, her short locks so unlike what he had once considered beauty now defining it, and her curveless muscled figure now the odd epitome of femininity. Most men would find Carlynn by far the prettier of the two, but he had fallen desperately in love with Kevral’s wit and strength. Once, he had disliked the Renshai, too, and he had learned that his feelings could change. Yet he still could not imagine the explosion of passion and dedication he knew for Kevral roused by any other. “Please, go inside, and don’t worry about it any more.”

  “Thank you.” Carlynn managed a thin smile. “Thank you for everything, Ra-khir.” She trotted toward the cottage, the curls at the ends of her hair bouncing with every movement.

  “You’re welcome,” Ra-khir returned automatically, watching Carlynn only until the door yielded to her touch. He caught a glimpse of her whirling, kissing her palm, then waving before his own natural turn took woman and cottage from his sight.

  Ra-khir loosed a pent-up breath. As he negotiated the shortest distance back to his father’s home, a gentle chuckle escaped him. What most men considered a treat had become a tedious chore to him, and the thought seemed utter madness. I’m relieved because I’m done spending the evening with a beautiful young woman who cares about me. He did not dare to contemplate the implications too long. The answer came to him in a word: Kevral. No other woman could measure up to the one he loved.

  The stroll through cobbled streets on a crisp, moonlit night now seemed the pleasure he had denied moments ago. He enjoyed the time with his thoughts and the thrill that rolled through him in waves at the anticipation of seeing his father. He felt like a homesick child, too old to pine for a parent. He had missed this excitement in childhood. His mother had always seemed angry, her beautiful features pinched by bitterness and her figure becoming more drawn with time. Though calmer, his stepfather, Khirwith, had always seemed trivial, his interests juvenile even to the child he was raising. Ra-khir recalled finding pleasure in the walk rather than the destination back then, and only after he discovered Kedrin three years ago had the source of joy changed.

  These thoughts brought Ra-khir to the inn for his horse and gear, then home. He recognized the rosy glow of a fire through every window, and his father’s shadow filled his vision at intervals. The pattern of movement suggested cleanin
g, but Ra-khir now knew his father well enough to recognize restlessness. Ra-khir had kept things in their places, leaving little to straighten. The motions allowed his father’s hands and legs to work in more constructive ways than pacing.

  Ra-khir stripped pack, saddle, and bridle from his horse and set them on the ground. Seizing a currycomb, brush, and hoof pick from hooks on the side of the cottage, he gave the animal a thorough grooming before loosing it into the paddock with his father’s white stallion. Hefting his things, and the horse’s, he opened the door to reveal the familiar main room of the cottage. A wooden bench spanned the area in front of a roaring fire, and a mantle over it supported assorted bric-a-brac that ranged from a dented buckler that had saved Kedrin’s life in battle to a misshapen wooden hawk he had carved for Ra-khir’s mother that she had later hurled at him in rage. Kedrin stood near the pantry entrance, straightening a portrait of Ra-khir as a child. He spun toward the door as it creaked open and smiled a warm greeting.

  “I’m sorry I took so long,” Ra-khir said, closing the door with his foot, then arranging the tack on one end of the bench. He hauled his pack into his bedroom and left it on the floor near his mattress. He would need it for practice in the morning.

  “No need to apologize,” Kedrin’s voice wafted from the main room, growing louder as he approached. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. When I didn’t find you here and it got late, I worried that—” He broke off suddenly, amending, “I worried.”

  Ra-khir finished the thought with ease. Worried that I went back to Mother. He did not voice his understanding. It would slam Kedrin’s honor to point out his mistake, fretting for a situation he had given Ra-khir his blessing to return to. His mother had spoken the ultimatum that Ra-khir could associate with her or Kedrin, never both. Unless and until she lifted that demand, even loneliness could never drive Ra-khir back to her. Kedrin’s love, he knew, bore no conditions. Ra-khir looked up to find his father watching him from the doorway. He headed toward the opening.