Spear of Heaven by Judith Tarr Page B

of with a shudder. “The walled place,” it said. “The
place that burns.” It meant wards, she thought, because it said the mages’
wards burned, too, but only a little, and once she let it ride with her, it
could ignore them completely.
    But the wards that made it so afraid were Great Wards, or
something like them—wards stronger than any few mages could raise. It scared
itself right off the senel and into nothingness, scaring her so much that she
thought she had killed it. But it came back a long time later, after they stopped
to camp, and it acted as if it could not remember what had scared it away. It
would not talk about the walled place again; she did not ask, for fear that it
really would go away and not come back.

10
    “The burning place is near,” the demon said. It was almost
as hard to see as it had been the first time Kimeri saw it. Quivers ran through
it, ripples of fear, but it clung stubbornly to the back of her saddle.
    She would be afraid of the place herself if she had not
heard her mother and Vanyi talking about it. To them it was a human place, that
was all, and maybe it was dangerous, but it was nothing to frighten a mage.
Demons, who were mostly air, had more to fear, and more to be wary of.
    Her demon stood up on the senel’s rump. “Stay here,” it
said.
    It was not talking to the senel. It caught at her hair with
claws like a brush of wind. “Stay in the mountains,” it said. “Don’t go down to
the burning place.”
    “But,” she said, in her head as always, “what would I do
here?”
    “Be,” the demon answered. “Be with me.”
    “I’m not going to get hurt in the burning place,” she said,
trying to comfort it. “I have my own burning inside of me, that keeps me safe.”
    “Stay in the mountains,” said the demon. “We can fly. We can
play with the wind. You can sing, and I can dance. Stay.”
    She was usually careful not to act as if there was anyone
with her, but now she turned and looked at the demon. It looked like a shadow
on glass, with eyes that glowed like yellow moons. Its whole self was a
wanting.
    She remembered that some of its kind drank blood, and some
had claws that could rip an ox to pieces. But not her demon. It wanted her to
stay, that was all, and keep it company.
    “I learned words from you,” the demon said. “Who will talk
with me, if you go away?”
    Kimeri’s throat started to hurt. Her eyes were blurry. “I
have to go.”
    “You can stay,” said the demon.
    “No,” said Kimeri. An idea struck her. “You can teach the
others words. Then they can talk to you.”
    “I want you,” the demon said.
    “I have to go,” Kimeri said. “I have something to do. I can’t
not do it. Even to talk with you, and play on the wind.”
    The demon’s claws tightened in her hair. They were more
solid now, but still no stronger than the wind. Gently, because she did not
want to hurt it, she let out a flicker of magery. The demon tried to cling, but
the burning, even as little of it as there was, was too much for it. It wailed
and let go.
    “I’m sorry,” said Kimeri, “but I can’t stay. I’ll try to
come back.”
    “That is not now,” the demon said.
    There was nothing that Kimeri could say to that. She had
more than a demon to think of, a Gate and a Guardian and a place where they
both were, as terrible in its way as the burning place. She could not stop her
throat from hurting and her eyes from filling up, but she could not do what the
demon wanted, either.
    It was too much for a very young person, even a princess
with a Sun in her hand. The wind whipped the tears from her eyes, and kept the
others from asking questions and being awkward. But her senel’s saddle was too
cold a comfort, its mane too rough to bury her face in. She made her way to
where her mother was riding, talking to Chakan; pulled herself over behind her
mother’s saddle and wrapped her arms about that narrow middle and clung.
    oOo
    Kimeri was acting strangely again,