Chapter 27 Part Dos

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It took Sander and Tristan half as long to descend the stairs as it had taken them to climb them. They did not converse on the way down, Sander driven by determined urgency and Tristan too edgy to pretend otherwise. Tristan’s heart beat like the tattoo of a drum and his clammy palms slid easily along the balustrade, slick with his cold sweat.  He couldn’t recall ever being so nervous or reluctant to follow the High Commander’s orders.

What if the High Commander is wrong? Could he have made a mistake in his judgment of Sander?

Appalled at the traitorous direction of his thoughts, Tristan shoved them aside and focused on the slumped-over figure in the vestibule of the Beyaz Kale. A hand lay flat against the chalk-white walls and dragged down, accompanied by a horrible wailing sound like that of a drowning cat. Delicate shoulders – funny how delicate they seemed when encased in women’s frippery – shook with apparent grief, and great, gulping sobs racked the gently curved frame.

Tristan rushed to the figure at once. “My lady, what is the cause of your distress?” He grabbed the hand on the wall and brought its fingers to his mouth, as if he were going to impart a kiss. Instead, he hissed in between the knuckles, “Sam, you’re overdoing it. You’re supposed to be frightened, not mourning the dead.”

Wide green eyes glowered back at him, tears glistening on the edge of artificially-darkened lashes. “Oh, you’re good,” Tristan breathed, releasing his trainee’s hand. While the crying noises Sam made were out of a bad play, the tears at least looked real.

Sander moved by his side, and Sam resumed his ridiculous caterwauling. “My lady,” Sander said gently. “Can you tell us what the trouble is? I will help you if it is within my power.”

Sam made a show of sniveling, dabbing at his eyes with his dress sleeve. “I don’t mean to be any trouble,” he hiccupped, his voice pitched higher than Tristan was accustomed to. Sam sounded remarkably like a woman. “I’m traveling by myself, you see. I have no husband or brother, and I didn’t know where else to turn. I heard tell of the Uriel, that you might be able to help, and I saw this great big castle at the center of the city, and, well, here I am.” Sam sniffed loudly and blew his nose like a trumpet. Tristan shot him a covert glare – that was not feminine in the slightest.

Sander said, “You’ve managed to find the Uriel, my lady. But why have you sought us out?”

Sam let out a moan of despair. “ ‘Tis a demon, milord. A terrible creature, with sharp teeth and great claws and glowing red eyes.” He shuddered, quite believably. “It almost killed me, but I got away, just barely.”

Sander put his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You’re alright now, my lady. The danger has passed.”

Sam shook his head wildly, his black braid whipping behind him. “Nay, milord, the danger is still there! I’m staying at an inn, you see, and in my haste to get away, I locked the demon in the room behind me. What if it is still inside? And worse, if it escaped, I fear what it will do. I was so anxious to leave that I did not think to warn others in the inn.” Sam looked down at the floor, the picture of dismay.

“You did right to come to us,” said Sander. “A demon on the loose is a serious problem. I’ll take a few of my men and--”

“My lady, was it just the one demon?” Tristan cut in. Sam nodded tearfully. Tristan faced Sander. “Surely a single demon does not require more than two men. Why don’t you and I go together? We can resume our talk of—” he gritted his teeth, “—an alliance after this matter has been dealt with.”

Sander beamed at him and said, “It would be my honor, Paladin.” He seemed genuinely pleased at the prospect.

Guilt settled over Tristan like a heavy blanket, but he forced a smile. “It’s settled, then. My lady, I assume you traveled here by horse?”

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