Rain beat down beside a man of nightmares.

Casari.

Escaping from Nishae had been child’s play for him; but he had gained little, if any satisfaction from doing as much. Alsi could tell by looking into his gray eyes. Those eyes made Darksail’s own look happy, by comparison. Those eyes had seen the horrors of hell.

They constantly reminded Alsi that she was in the company of a demon.

The rest of the party had come along, as well, and so, she and Casari were not the only ones camped by that lonely road, that night. Darksail and Ralad were here as well. Darksail, who seemed ever increasingly automaton, retreating his mind within himself, and doing Casari’s bidding without question.

Ralad was a man of God, but lately, he too seemed to be doing much of the same. Only Alsi occasionally made a comment with any fire, or any warmth, but those words she spoke were unoften, infrequent.

The days with Casari were long and hard. The entire day, the four rode, on black stallions Casari had stolen from a stables. And that was what happened every day. From dawn, until dusk, for a week, until the fall slowly began to turn to winter.

That day, right then, at that very moment, as Alsi was preparing herself for sleep, as the rain beat down, Casari made a statement.

“Tomorrow, we reach the Holy Citadel.”

Such blessed words seemed odd to come from a demon’s lips, but it all mattered so, so little.

Talon was on Casari’s shoulder, peering at her.

She looked at the owl, and then lay down on her bed of leaves, in the rain.

Sleep. Dreamless sleep, as always seemed to await her around Casari, was lurking in the next world. Alsi fell into dream’s arms.

Morning came. The sun might have been bright that day, but the truth was unknown, as the sky was covered in a thick cloud of fog. It was no longer raining, however. Small mercies, at least.

They mounted their horses, all four, which, each and every one of them, had the oddest tendencies, and obeyed Casari’s commands to the letter.

And then, they were off. Not off into the wild world of adventure, but off into another day of sullen torment.

It had started to rain again, when Alsi and the others reached the dark, forbidding gates of the Holy Citadel. Makini guards allowed them entry, with little fuss.

Up the sloping hill they rode, to the summit, where Alsi knew would await the Tower of the Vedil Lords, and the legendary Greatest of the Temples.

Asurik had once carefully guarded the summit, Alsi knew. But now, the plaza was guarded by Makini, and the Makini could care little if citizens came to gawk.

Indeed, many had come to the plaza for just that purpose, and the tiled ground was filled.

Alsi, Casari, and the others, were unnoticeable, amidst the throng.

Here, Casari dismounted, and his followers did the same, holding their horses by the bridles.

The four of them, in addition to the owl, made an impromptu circle with the horses, which other passersby were forced to circumvent.

And then, all but Casari turned to stare at him.

“We are in a religious place,” said the demon. “A holy place…” He trailed off, then began to speak again, and strongly.

“Priest Ralad, this is your city,” said Casari. “You were a lord here, a Priest-Lord of the Vedil, until the Makini came, and stripped you of your position, because you resisted them.”

Casari paused again, forcing Alsi to hang onto his every word.

“However, priest,” continued the demon, “your fellow Priest-Lords were not as unfortunate as you. They abstained from fighting, and were rewarded by being able to keep a semblance of their positions.”

“What is the point of saying this?” asked Ralad. Had this been a different time, had he been speaking to a different person, he might have made an aggressive statement, after the level to which he had fallen had been firmly planted in his face. But this was Casari.

Aside from his simple question, Ralad stayed silent.

“Because the other Priest-Lords are your friends,” said Casari. “They are your allies.”

“But as you said,” responded Ralad, “they have little power, anymore. The Makini have doubtless stripped them of almost all of their secular power.”

“But they still have enough, for my purposes,” said Casari. “Once, a long time ago, I traded you my sword, Aurasing, for a small favor. I would like it back.”

“So you just want me to go into the Palace of the Vedil Lords, go to the treasury, and ask the Priest-Lords if I can have the sword, in between explaining how it is I managed to escape the Makini, and get back here.”

“I would refrain from telling them too much about me, or my status, just yet,” said Casari. “They would not like to hear about me. But that is more or less the gist of what I want.”

There was a subtle undercurrent to Casari’s voice, one that Ralad caught on to, immediately.

“Are you afraid, that a chorus of the best priests in the world would, if they found you, be able to exorcise you?” he asked.

“No,” said Casari.

His words seemed to be the truth, and so, Alsi wondered what else would be troubling Casari.

“I will go, then,” said Ralad. “I can promise you this much; I can get around the Makini guards.”

And, with an inclination of his head, the priest was gone.

The four, owl included, waited, in the rain. Even though they stood in the middle of the plaza, no Makini, or indeed, any man, or any woman, asked them what they were doing, why they were standing there.

Alsi knew that she, Casari, and Darksail must have been the only people in the plaza to be staring at the Tower of the Vedil Lords, and not the Greatest of the Temples, but no one questioned them on it.

In the rain, through the clouds, each person on the plaza was wrapped up in their own individual lives, Alsi included. She knew that the older woman who jostled past them, with her baskets of fruit, was not wondering why four black horses, three people, and an owl were all standing silent vigil at the center of the plaza. She was too wrapped up in her concerns, whatever they were.

There were so many other people all around, and yet Alsi was alone. Of course she was alone. How else would see be? A demon ruled her.

Lightning flashed overhead, and, as if called by it, Ralad returned to the group, holding within his hands a long brown bundle, that seemed to contain something. He looked rushed.

“I have the sword,” he said. “But, my fellow priests, they weren’t satisfied with my explanation for how I appeared and disappeared so suddenly. I got out of the Tower quickly enough, but they’re massing their servants, to search for me.”

Ralad looked directly at Casari.

“If you want us to escape detection, we should go, now.”

Casari’s response was simple.

“Give me my sword.”

Obediently, Ralad handed over the bundle, and Casari took it.

Casari unwrapped the sword just a tiny bit, and Alsi caught a glimpse of the blade.

Alsi knew nothing much about swords, but she was instantly given the impression that what Casari held was powerful.

Casari slid the blade out of its wool sheath, into the rain. Aurasing glimmered with the light of a thousand moons.

It was beautiful, so much so, that Alsi would not have believed it was Casari’s, had she not seen the look in his eyes. That was not the look of someone who had stolen a holy relic. That was the look of one who had recovered something precious.

“Thank you for returning my blade to me,” Casari said to Ralad, and Alsi knew he meant it.

But then, Alsi squinted, as she suddenly noticed there was something not quite right with the blade.

Runes were etched across its surface. They marred it. The runes were of the old tongue, which, when written, usually looked impressive, powerful.

Here, the runes just looked like graffiti, upon a masterpiece.

Alsi wondered if Aurasing had once been a holy blade, and Casari had marred it, to make it his own.

“What do the words say?” she asked Casari, softly, not expecting an answer.

“The owner of this blade is fallen,” came the response.

And it was said in such a manner that instantly discredited the theory, that Casari had etched the runes into the blade, himself.

He sounded resentful. No, that was not a strong enough word. His translation sounded like the first drip of rage, before a maelstrom.

“We must go, if we wish to evade the servants,” Ralad reminded them.

Casari covered his sword with the brown cloth, again, and cradled it like a baby.

As he spoke, for the second time, lightning flashed.

“Who says we need to evade them?”

There was a silence, as none but Casari knew if the question was rhetorical, or honest, if he wanted an answer, or if he was waiting to pounce on the first of them that ventured a guess.

“Those servants,” said Casari, “do not work for the Makini. They work for the Vedil Priest-Lords. The Vedil Priest-Lords, who are friends and allies of Ralad, and are only looking for him because they are genuinely concerned for his welfare. Why run from allies?”

Finally, Darksail said something. “Because they are not your allies, my lord?” he ventured, as a guess.

“The question was rhetorical,” said Casari. “And, in this case, at least, your answer was the wrong one. We will not run from allies.”

“But,” said Ralad. “I only…can stand your presence because I am more…jaded, then my former fellows. They would kill you, or attempt to, on sight. You cannot be among them.”

“They will not see me,” said Casari.

“You cannot mask your presence from them,” said Ralad. “They are Priest-Lords, and they will find out who you are. And then,” he said weakly, “there will be hell to pay.”

“I will not do that,” said Casari. “I will not infringe upon their company, even hidden. This is over.”

“What?” asked Alsi. “Why do you mean?” She feared he meant their death.

And Casari saw that fear in her eyes, and he slowly shook his head. He shook his head no.

“I will leave you three here,” said Casari, “in the tender care of the Vedil Priest-Lords. They are Ralad’s friends, and they will take the three of you in.”

“And what do you want the three of us to do in their company, without you?” asked Darksail, suspiciously.

“Ralad can convince his friends to give you money,” said Casari. “The Makini think each of you dead, so you will not need to worry about them trying to track you down. You all can start new lives for yourselves.”

The concept was hard to comprehend.

“New lives?” said Alsi.

“New lives,” said Casari. “You three have served my purposes well. I now want you to go, and be happy.”

And the three of them stared at him.

“I would let Talon go now, too, if I could,” said Casari, referring to the owl. “But to do so would mean his death.”

Silence.

Alsi hadn’t thought demons let go of their thralls.

“You think you understand me,” said Casari. “But you do not. I am no mere demon; I am Casari is Koranor. And I have a job to do. One that I do not need your help for.”

“So, you’re letting us go?” asked Darksail.

“Yes,” said Casari. “Be happy, be merry, and try not to kill too many little children.”

“What…what will you do?” asked Alsi.

“As I said,” spoke Casari, I have a job to do. I found purpose again, for a reason. Maiako as Arathou del Tachen is alive. I will find her, and I will save her. Or I will die trying.”

Casari leapt upon his dark horse, Talon still perched upon his shoulder. He wheeled the steed around, in a display of expert horsemanship, and raced from the plaza.

Away from the Greatest of the Temples, and the Tower of the Vedil Lords. Away from Alsi, Darksail, and Ralad.

They were free.

Casari had truly done them a service, Alsi realized, as her hope grew. Darksail and Ralad would have languished, undeserving, in prison, without his help. And she, Alsi?

To an outsider, looking upon this all as a story, Alsi’s hope might have seemed a little misplaced. She had had a job, working for the Makini, and now, she could never return to them, unless she gave them the truth, a long story, that would condemn her for treason. Casari had ripped away her old life.

But Alsi wasn’t so sure that was such a bad thing. She had been miserable, and now, she had a clean slate.

But then, she thought of Casari’s parting words. He had said he would save Maiako as Arathou del Tachen. And he was a demon.

Alsi feared for Mai.