THEY TOOK HIM, not to the great hall, but to a room in the keep’s single tower. The stairs formed a tight spiral upward, with slits in the stone to let air through. Halfway up, a door opened into a wide, welcoming room, with whitewashed walls and a floor strewn with sweet rushes.
To his mild surprise, the demon waved the guards off and they went, closing the door behind. If they’re leaving us alone, they must not be worried that I’ll attack. Or more likely, they’re not worried that I’ll be able to do any damage.
“Well, well, well,” said the demon. “A paladin delivered to my doorstep. Truly fate moves in mysterious ways.”
“What is it you want?” Shane asked, folding his arms.
Wisdom met his eyes, clear and forthright. “It’s very simple. I want to become a god.”
FORTY-FOUR
“A GOD,” said Shane.
“That’s right.” The demon chuckled. “No need to look like that. Most demons would quite like to be gods, I imagine. It’s just that most of us are terribly bad at it. I don’t blame your priests for doing away with so many of us. I probably would too. We’re dreadful nuisances when we’re young and ignorant and haven’t learned to share a body politely.”
“Politely,” Shane said, in disbelief, thinking of demon victims he had seen, their bones broken in unnatural ways, teeth splintered from trying to eat rocks as the alien intelligence controlling them tried desperately to answer the body’s need for food.
“The young of your race aren’t known for their courtesy either,” Wisdom said. It picked up a carafe of water on the table and poured out a cup, then lifted it to its lips. “But we both grow older and learn civilized behavior. I would not judge you for what sins you may have committed as a toddler.”
Shane shook his head, saying nothing.
“The difference, of course, is that your people stop growing.” Wisdom made an up-and-down gesture indicating his height. “Mine have no equivalent. Given the chance, we can continue to grow in power, and become more than we are. Give me enough worshippers, give me the power of their faith, and I will be what even a paladin would consider a god.”
“That is not how that works,” said Shane, thinking, Dreaming God, I hope that isn’t how that works.
“But it is. Several of what you consider gods began their lives as one of my kind.” Wisdom laughed at his expression. “Why is that so hard to believe? Your saints are humans who become gods, and that takes a great deal more work, believe me.”
I will not argue. No good will come of arguing with it.
…not much good will come of not arguing with it, come to that.
“If you want proof, consider this,” Wisdom said. “The channel by which the god uses you is the same one that a demon could use to possess you.”
“I don’t believe that,” said Shane, immediately breaking his resolution not to argue.
“I realize that belief matters when it comes to gods, but in this case it does not. Here.” The demon reached out and he felt its touch inside him, shockingly intimate, as if it stroked the underside of his skin. It trailed up the inside of his ribcage as if he were nothing but skin stretched over hollow bone, and settled finally just beneath his heart, in the numb place where the god used to be.
“There,” the demon crooned. “There we are. What lies inside you, paladin? Let’s find out.”
Shane jerked as ghostly fingers closed inside his chest. He could not tell if they were cold or hot, only that they burned.
“My, my…is this your soul? What’s left of it, anyway. Hell’s host, what did they do to you?”
To his horror, the demon began to stroke the burning place with its claws. It did not hurt. He wanted it to hurt, because he understood pain and did not fear it. This was something else. This felt like…sympathy?
It’s a trick. That’s all it is. He closed his eyes, not that it did much good.
The demon clucked its host’s tongue, shaking its head. “Most people have scars on their soul, but yours has nearly been torn in half. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.” The burning claws sank deeper. Shane twitched violently, involuntarily, feeling like a puppet yanked by unsuspected strings.
“Ahhhh… Your god died. That must have hurt.”
Like nothing I’ve felt before or since. Worse than dying. Worse than failing. Worse than anything.
He did not say the words aloud, and yet the demon still nodded. Perhaps thought and speech were all mixed up in this place, or perhaps it could simply read his mind.
“The channel inside you is nothing but scars. It hasn’t healed cleanly, has it?”
The understatement of a lifetime. “No.”
“Scars and…is this faith?” It made a small, surprised sound. “Abandoned by two gods, and yet still you keep faith, like a dog waiting for its master to return. Astonishing.” The claws sank deeper yet. “Greed? No. What about pride, hmm?”
He would have laughed if he had any strength. It was going to be sorely disappointed if it was looking for pride. He had little enough of that anymore.
“No,” it agreed. “No, you were only ever a god’s dog on a chain, and you knew it.”
If that was meant to wound him, it failed. Shane had never thought of himself as anything else.
“I could take you,” said the demon musingly. “I could break you into a thousand shards and jump to your body. But what a waste that would be.”
Shane said nothing. He had seen what demons did to bodies they inhabited, had seen the shattered minds left behind. He had never seen what a clever demon could do, but he had heard the stories. The rampage of Lord Caliban through the temple in the Dowager’s capital was a grisly cautionary tale.
Please, gods, he begged, to any god that might be alive and listening. White Rat, Dreaming God if you still care—please, not that.
“Or you could come to me,” the demon said. “Willingly. As my champion, not as my host. The
first paladin of a new god. What do you say?”
It was such an absurd offer that at first Shane couldn’t believe he was hearing it. It can’t be serious. Why does it think I would ever agree to such a thing?
The thought occurred to him that perhaps whatever it had seen inside him had made it think he was weak enough to be swayed by such a thing. If so, it would soon learn differently. He might have failed in every conceivable fashion, but not that one.
“No,” he said. “Obviously.”
“You haven’t even heard me out,” Wisdom said mildly, leaning against the table and folding its arms.
“What are you going to offer me?” asked Shane, his lip curling. “Offer to heal my soul? Give me everything I want?”
“No,” said the demon, surprising him. “I can’t heal you, paladin. All I can do is make the wounds not matter anymore. And I doubt you’d believe me if I offered you everything you wanted, would you?”
Shane grunted. The demon was right, but he didn’t wish to admit it.
Wisdom’s lips twisted up in a smile. “What can I offer you, paladin? How about the lives of your friends?”
His head jerked up. He tried to control the reaction, too late. It’s a trick. It’s a trap.