As he followed Mish-Shy from the practice area, Deathwalker closed his eyes, his long black lashes laying shadows upon pale cheeks.  Beneath his lids those eyes changed from the light, cold blue he chose to confuse the outside world.  The demon orbs turned jewel-like, and darkened to a sapphire so deep that it hinted at purple, like spilled amethysts edged in silver liquid.  His shadowed eyes were beautiful, magical beyond belief; but totally inhuman.  Only a handful of demons, one half-angel, and no child of man whatsoever had seen him thus. His sight obligingly split into twin paths; with one, he kept track of the mundane---that is, following Mish-shy and not bumping into things along the way. Upon the second image of vision, though, he watched the Dark One and his human most carefully, even though by now they were some distance away as well as in a different room.  He didn't bother to call upon his other powers to follow their conversation---it was clear enough to a demon of sense who could read body language as easily as lips.  Rhion placed a strong but gentle hand on De's shoulder as the dark-haired boy began to limp to the door.  The human's sun-browned face was touched by a frown.  But his worried look vanished as the smaller boy glared ferociously, twisted away and snapped at him silently.  Walker could easily play the remarks back in his head.  You're hurt, let me help you. // Hell, no! I don't need anyone's help!  I'm fine!// The golden human's scowl deepened just a trace.  Walker noted to himself that the expression neither made his face harsh, nor subtracted one jot from his good looks.  He looked for all his youth like a disapproving but slightly baffled father, the demon thought with amusement.  Almost instantly, though, the look of annoyance shifted to a slightly wicked grin. Rhion slapped a suffering expression on his face like a cheap mask, rubbed his back dramatically, and purposely leaned on his companion as if unable to stand alone one more second. Damian staggered, head coming around to gape at Rhion in amazement.  His mouth moved furiously as he pushed at the "big lummox", demanding he move his large carcass this instant! But amazingly enough, as Rhion laughed at him and shifted his weight, a corner of De's mouth barely twitched.  His expression was still glowering, but his eyes had changed.  Softened, somehow, although still filled with irritation.  Walker had absolutely no trouble reading his lips this time. "Damn fool of a human!" And then the boy shrugged, still with that faint curl of amusement on his mouth, and let Rhion slip a supporting arm around him.  He rolled his dark eyes as Rhion chuckled, and then they both hobbled away. Together.  Helping each other, it seemed, although apparently still pleasantly bickering.  Walker nodded to himself, unaware for the moment of his king's deep interest in every change of his expression.  He'd not been easy on Rhion in training because of his humanity, any more than Mish-shy had coddled De.  For one thing, he felt curious, wanted to take the lad's measure just short of discouraging him from learning at all.  But he admitted there was a part of him that wanted to punish the boy, too, for daring to confound a Shyle warrior with unwanted feelings. Rhion had actually surprised the Tal-Hawk master, with a certain raw ability as well as his stubbornness. And Deathwalker knew how exhausting Mish-shy's lessons could be.  Godling or no, De had to be worn to a thread. They needed to help each other, in this place and time.  Like it or not---but something told Deathwalker that even De, deny it though he might, actually enjoyed his friend's protectiveness. "So you were distracting the human from his lover's harsh training, I suppose, by letting him fumble with your special weapons?  Very clever."  Mish-shy's voice was sly.  "I know of no human you've ever let near the area, and as for instructing them---!  Humans are too weak for Tal-Hawk mastery.  As you've often told me."  Mish-shy sounded as if he were about to burst into a rich chuckle but was holding it back for politeness' sake. Walker let his eyes slip open in respect to the demon king.  For a moment, they shimmered like dark orchid jewels before paling into their usual chilled sky color. "I've told you that because up to now I've found it to be true.  And maybe I did begin the teaching to distract him---or to make him curious about demon ways." Deathwalker waved a long hand absently, and a rather wolf-like smile touched his mouth.  "Or maybe it was just one of my well-known impulses.  But I think this human---"  His voice trailed off into thoughtful silence, as if he worked a difficult puzzle with only a few pieces to hand but a stern determination to solve it anyway.  Mish-shy did chuckle, then, but his glance was honestly interested under the amusement.  Walker tended to forget he had an audience when he was wrapped up in analyzing some mystery that had taken his fancy.  Mish-shy wasn't insulted by his distraction, quite the opposite in fact. He preferred Walker intrigued rather than bored and depressed. "Is he trainable?  Or just damned attractive in your opinion?  Either thing ranks as a miracle, of course!" Deathwalker would have coolly looked down his nose at most demons teasing him this way, but Mish-shy was not only his king.  More importantly, he knew Walker's secret, and kept it with honor.  And since they were alone now, he responded with a faint, wicked grin that would have stunned those who knew him only as the aloof and chillingly competent Second, brother to the king's blade.   "Then you'd best start believing in wonders," he observed, "Because both things are true!  But don't be concerned, I'm not an Icewind, fool enough to try and sample the love-partner of a dark god." "At least not while the god is within a mile of you," Mish-shy remarked dryly. The tall demon looked at his king with an unreadable expression.  "You know why that is impossible for me," he said quietly.  Mish-shy pursed his lips, obviously a bit displeased at the conversation taking a serious turn. He gave Walker's arm an absent pat.  "You handle the affliction well, but don't forget its benefits.  I certainly don't!" Walker smiled, a little sourly.  "I'm pleased to be of service, naturally," he murmured, his usual half-haughty manner now restored.  "If I must endure everyone's thoughts and feelings when I let my guard down, it's good that such a monumental annoyance is useful for spying at least!" Mish-shy eyed Walker, judging if there was any bitterness in his companion's remark.  He only sounded matter-of-fact, but with his shields up Deathwalker was the most unreadable demon on the planet or off it. He wasn't by nature either haughty or aloof, in fact he was rather passionate even for a demon.  But fortunately for them all, he was also very much in control of his feelings and his unusual powers.  Had both on a choke chain most days, though the discipline cost him somewhat in popularity among those who judged him only on his apparent attitude. Mish-shy however was one who knew better; his next half-ironic question proved it. "So, how are you handling the amazement of those who expect you to  feel murderous at being passed over for kingship following me?  And supplanted by an apparent boy at that! Ignoring it calmly as usual I'll bet, like an uppity angel!" Walker laughed dryly, glancing at his liege.  "Of course.  I don't intend to explain my relief to those who'd barely understand it." "Or who would think you suffered from insanity and were therefore fair game for assassination," Mish-shy pointed out helpfully. "I have said before, I have no desire to be king.  My interests lie in other forms of power.  Knowledge of the star's movements, battle tactics, the training of wolves, slaves and panthers, the brewing of strong drink to delight Bloodseeker's heart and cause him to sing in public like a born fool---all much more interesting than rulership." Mish-shy laughed companionably at this eccentric list.  "I agree, especially to the part about getting Seeker drunk and silly! But try explaining this to your usual Shyle.  A taste for glory is common among us.  So when you accept this upset in the quest for power with composure they'll figure you're plotting deeply, and fear you all the more.  Clever!" "Bah," Walker stated, nettled at last.  "Should I throw a tantrum then, to prove I'm not involved in plots against the prince's life?  Bullshit!  A human phrase I know, but apt in this case." Mish-shy threw back his head and laughed gleefully.  Rarely did Deathwalker let his temper slip; when he did it always delighted the ancient demon.   Sarcasm, rather than mindless fury, was Deathwalker's style, and Mish-shy enjoyed the sharpness of his second's tongue more than he probably should, being king and all. "I have no interest in what gossip says about me, as long as you understand the truth of it. I'm more concerned with this feeling I have towards the human.  And no, it's not lust that bothers me though he's certainly worth anyone's attention, yes even mine!  But in the main---" Walker hesitated.  "This sense of---comradeship, for an unknown human---that bothers me," he confessed bluntly.  "And I also feel that he understands more of the Tal-Hawk discipline than is consistent with his experience in this life.  It is as if, once we find the right weapon, he will know the skills without benefit of much training.  Such a thing is outside my experience.  There are hidden forces at work here, things out of far pasts becoming important in our present." Mish-shy nodded slowly.  They had reached the throne room now, and he paused at the massive doorway.  "You will do a Seeking?" It was more statement than question, but hardly an order.  Still, the old demon's interest in the outcome was obvious, and Walker acknowledged this with a slight bow. "I must, I think.  If only to satisfy my own curiosity.  As usual, I have no idea what it will show me, or whether the information will be of use to us or only trivial.  I am not Lily, my gift goes where it chooses." Mish-shy chuckled, and waved him away.  "Go ahead, take as long as you need.  Nothing urgent is pending.  And remember that even triviality may have its uses in this case.  I want any and all knowledge, no matter how insignificant it might seem.  Yes, about them both.  The tie between them isn't a thread---more like a cable that could pull the sun from its track!"  He grinned at the image, and at Walker's sarcastically elevated brow.  "So even if all you see pertains to the young lion, still it has value. Even beyond a pleasant daydream for you!"  Walker nodded slowly, ignoring the last comment as if Mish-shy hadn't even voiced it. "And the odd thing is---that they aren't more aware of this bond on a conscious level.  There's a piece missing, a gap of some kind.  Hopefully, a Seeking will give me a clue." With another slight bow, he turned abruptly and strode toward his rooms---not the suite that he shared with his wives and children, but the more austere cluster of chambers where he spent his private moments. He's on a scent again, Mish-shy thought delightedly.  It makes him even more infernally rude.  Well, I'll let Sharn-leu know that her Lord will once again be away for an unknown amount of time.  And I'll take the blame for it, as well, just to be accommodating! Walker's private apartments were sparse by demon standards, but oddly enough more cozy than the usual grand chamber.  A large stone fireplace dominated the main area, and the walls were covered with crowded bookshelves rather than ornate artwork.  The ceiling was much lower than the norm, and a mosaic of a stormy night sky decorated its entirety.  It both made the room more comfortable, and gave an illusion of space without austerity.  There was a neatly arranged desk, bristling with filled cubbyholes, and a single bed in the corner---unusual for a demon, that!   The bed bore a plain blue covering, not ornate in the least.  Comfortable enough, but functional rather than decorative. A pool or basin in the center of the room, sunk into the tiled stone floor, seemed a little out of place since it was far too small for bathing.  Crackles of azure and golden fire moved through its clear liquid, giving a dim light sufficient to see by.  Walker slipped through the hanging at the door and stood for a moment studying the pool.  "Privacy," he said finally, in a low voice devoid of color. The open archway, blocked only by the heavy blue tapestry imprinted with Walker's crest, hummed briefly and shimmered faintly violet before returning to seeming normalcy.  But any demon foolish enough to try and enter now would be redirected to a less pleasant area of the palace.  Specifically, the sewers.  Walker had his own brand of humor to compensate for having to act detached all the time! Deathwalker moved towards the pool, slowly shedding his clothing as he went.  His eyes remained fixed on the now bubbling water, in which the sparks of color moved ever faster.  He reached the edge and knelt, gracefully naked, before the Water of True Illusion.  His eyes picked out one of the streamers of molten gold, and tracked it faithfully as he reached for the small, needle-fine dagger laid ready at the edge of the pool. After the blood offering had been made, the water steamed faintly.  Walker closed his eyes and drew the spicy mists deeply into his lungs, his powerful chest swelling as it filled.  He then rose and moved to the bed quickly, before the sensations overwhelmed him.  Collapsing on the floor didn't bother his pride particularly. But it was more comfortable to awaken from a Seeking snugly tucked in bed; there was a certain confusion when coming back to the real world.  He wouldn't care to imagine even for a few minutes that he had passed out from intoxication or being mastered in battle.  Both had happened before, though, when his memories were still tangled with those of other, less enlightened souls. He smiled a bit at his own snotty attitude, cultivated so carefully that at times he fooled even himself.  Now safely lounging atop the bed on his back, he studied the storming sky until the clouds began to stir and move aside in a soundless wind, revealing what lay beneath. Even when his eyes slid closed and his breathing deepened, he could see his own flight through the darkened years, until he approached the castle where Damian Leviathan had spent his childhood, and entered like bright smoke through an open casement window. He was a little surprised at the earliness of the time-frame. He had requested inwardly that he might observe any relevant confrontations between Rhion and De, but as he had said his Gift was wayward.  He could focus on what he wanted and sometimes that helped direct his flight through time and space, but there were no guarantees. If his Gift decided that he needed to see something else then he had no choice in the matter.  And he could only cut off the Seeing when his spirit grew fatigued and the power less fresh---for the first hour or so he was literally stuck in spying-mode. That he was drawn into the Leviathan palace was promising, he thought.  But he could taste that during this time both De and Rhion would have been children.  He had gotten the impression they had met only after the Dark One's crucifixion. Either his Gift had undercut him once more---or a missing part of the puzzle would soon come into his grasp.             ~Feed The Authors~ ~Home~