Demon's Quest (High Demon #4)

Dragon? The former Warlord had never gotten mindspeech from me. Probably didn't know I had it. Hoping he wasn't engaged in something important, I'd decided to contact him. If he couldn't help, perhaps he could tell me what to do instead.

Reah, I never thought to hear from you. Many search for you—where are you?

On a pirate ship floating over Falchan, I replied. I killed the pirates, now I don't know what to do with the ship.

A comforting mental chuckle came through, making me sigh and relax my shoulders. I hadn't been sure of a welcome, or if he'd respond at all. He was beside me in moments.

"Change back, I'll get us off and then send it far enough away that they won't see when I destroy it," he grinned. He Pulled clothing from somewhere so I could dress quickly, then folded us to the ground. I watched, standing beside the First among the Saa Thalarr, while the ship disappeared. "It's dust now," Dragon looked down at me and smiled.

"Reah?" Flyer came up beside me. "What you are, Reah?" Flyer looked worried.

"She's High Demon, sir cook," Dragon said in Falchani. I understood that much, at least. "Reah killed your attackers. Those won't bother you again."

"You look familiar," Flyer squinted at Dragon.

"The Dragon Warlord, at your service," Dragon inclined his head and disappeared.

"Flyer, do not have a heart attack," I said as he clutched his chest. As it turned out, that wasn't why he gripped the front of his shirt.

"The Dragon Warlord," Flyer said reverently.

"Absolutely," I sighed. "Never mind that Falchan just got saved by a High Demon; that was the Dragon Warlord." I took Flyer's arm and steered him toward his shop.

"Reah, where you go?" Flyer watched as I packed my bag.

"Flyer, I hate to leave, but you will likely have about a dozen visitors in very little time. All looking for me. No, I'm not a criminal," I held out a hand at his worried expression. "I have mates, I guess. And they tend to show up if they know where I am. Just feed them a bowl of noodles and charge them double." Bag in hand, I kissed Flyer's cheek for the second time that day and skipped away from Falchan.

"Are you kidding?" Gavril got the news from Drew. "Your father saw her there?"

"She killed a ship full of pirates who were armed with a Ranos cannon. Dad can't lie, you know. Well, neither can we." Drew grinned. "Dad got rid of the ship for her—she didn't know what to do with it afterward."

"What the fuck is going on?" Lendill and Norian appeared. Norian could fold, Lendill couldn't. Lendill had dragged the Director along for that reason. Drew was forced to tell the story a second time.

"I have the information from Drake," Erland brought the news to Wylend.

"She was on Falchan? All this time?"

"She healed Thiskil's core early on, but you already knew about that. She was working in one of those noodle shops that are all over Falchan's capital city."

"Then let's go. We'll see if she's still there." Wylend's face held determination, so Erland didn't try to deflect the King of Karathia.

Flyer wasn't surprised when eight men showed up at his shop, all looking angry and out of sorts.

"Reah said you might come," Flyer nodded at Wylend, Erland, Gavril, Dee, Tory, Aurelius, Lendill and Norian. "She said to serve you noodles and charge you double."

"She's not here, is she?" Tory said. He was the tallest of all those assembled, standing nearly seven feet in height.

"No. She disappear. Poof." Flyer flicked his fingers.

"Figures." Lendill muttered angrily.

"Did she say where she was going?" Gavril asked.

"No." Flyer shook his head. "Best cook. Crowd get angry now. I lose same as child."

"Farzi and Nenzi will go crazy," Gavril sighed.

"Are we going to have noodles?" Dee asked. All eight of them took a seat at the counter while Flyer served bowls of noodles.

"Hello, Nefrigar." He'd appeared like magic shortly after I skipped to Beliphar.

"Greetings, Reah. It was a good time to visit Falchan, was it not?" The skin around his bright-blue eyes crinkled as he smiled at me.

"Yeah. I just can't go back or the horde will find me for sure."

"If that is your choice," he lifted a vase from the bedside table and examined it carefully—it was crystal of some sort and likely worth a lot. Just about everything was that remained inside the deserted palace.

"Are you hungry? You must be after eliminating the pirates."

"A little." I'd gotten used to regular meals, living with Flyer.

"Then come." Nefrigar folded us away.

When I complained that I wasn't dressed properly to go inside the restaurant—I had no idea where we were, after all—Nefrigar used power to dress me. "This is nice," the tunic was purple silk with embroidery at hem and cuff, the loose pants matching. Silver shoes, matching the embroidery, peeked from beneath my pants.

"Would you like jewelry?" Nefrigar smiled.

"That's all right, but thank you for the thought," I said. My nose was pulling me inside the restaurant—good smells of baking bread lured me along. I hadn't had good bread while on Falchan.

Nefrigar didn't order—Larentii fed on sunlight. Instead, he watched, somewhat amused, as I ate veal in wine sauce and several pieces of bread. "I'm too full to move," I sighed, refusing dessert. Strangely enough, Nefrigar paid for my meal. He handed over a credit chip. Where do Larentii get credit chips? Do they manufacture them with their power? I thought about asking, but since I didn't really know Nefrigar, I held the question back.

"Bardelus is a good place to visit right now," he said after taking me back to Beliphar.

"Bardelus? Why Bardelus?" They weren't part of the Alliance, either. Neither Reth nor Campiaan.

"Little one, perhaps you should broaden your horizons," Nefrigar smiled and disappeared.

I dithered for two days, then, worried that I might be missing something, I gathered the gold I hadn't spent on Falchan and skipped to Bardelus.

Chapter 3

Alliance common was spoken for the most part, but in certain portions of Grithis, a city surrounded by forests and farmland on Bardelus, there were ethnic communities where other languages abounded. Purchasing a comp-vid first thing, I set about navigating my way through the city. Gold was accepted everywhere. They'd tried to put their own version of the credit chip in place, but since they were non-Alliance, it fell through.

My first thought was to find a place to stay. Going through advertisements for hotels and inns, I discovered that businesses weren't held to any sort of standard. A photograph on the comp-vid might be very different from the reality. I discovered that from the first three inns I visited, none of which resembled the images on the comp-vid. I'd chosen them because they seemed reasonable in price. I was learning my lesson quickly—Bardelans were notorious liars and they expected to haggle over everything.

"I refuse to pay your price," a customer pounded his fist on the clerk's desk in the fourth inn I visited. The desk shook precariously while a small cloud of dust rose from the filthy counter.

"Seventy-five, then," the clerk countered, giving a price five silvers less than previously mentioned.

"Seventy," the thick-fisted customer pounded again. I wondered if dust and rat droppings would sift down from the ceiling. They did. "And you agree to clean my room."

"No. Room cleaning is a separate charge," the clerk sniffed. At that moment, I was hoping he might inhale some of the dust. He did, sneezing four or five times in rapid succession.

"Seventy, and you clean my room," the customer snapped, raising his fist.

"All right, seventy with room cleaning," the clerk jerked his hand out, catching the customer's fist.

"I'll stay for free, if you allow me to clean the rooms and this pig-sty you call a reception area," I offered. Both the clerk and the customer turned to look at me, complete shock on their faces.

"This is not a pig-sty," the clerk huffed, offended.

"No? See this?" I pointed, I wasn't about to put my finger in it. "Rat droppings. You have rats. Do your customers know this?"

"You have rats?" The customer was now swearing and about to pound the desk again.

"Sixty, and your room cleaned," the clerk whined.

"Sixty and she cleans the rooms," the customer jerked his head toward me.

"And I stay for free in exchange for the cleaning," I added.

"All right." The clerk went to find keys, muttering under his breath the entire time.

"Very nice, I wouldn't have thought to throw in rat droppings," the heavy-handed customer smiled as we walked toward the stairs. No elevator here, unfortunately. I not only had my key but a master and information that I shouldn't go into any room before nine bells and the cleaning supplies and equipment were in a janitor's closet on the first floor.

"When would you like your room cleaned?" I asked the man. He was well dressed, with reddish-brown hair that was a bit long and curling around his ears. He was also dressed better than most I'd seen in this section of the city, in a matching jacket and pants in dark brown over a tan shirt. No ties or other neckwear were worn on Bardelus. I got the idea it was just too formal for their way of thinking.

"I'll be going out every morning by seven bells. Any time after that will be fine." He had light-brown eyes, lips that might smile now and then if he allowed it and the nose of an aristocrat. Wondering what brought him to this inn, I nodded as he opened the door to his room. Mine was farther down on the opposite side. I was surprised that my room was as clean as it was when I walked into it.

Getting rid of the rats and vermin was my first objective—I'd learned a trick during my tenure with the ASD. When I went Thifilatha, small or large, I frightened small animals and insects. Any insect thinking to get close to my gold scales was burned. They stayed away. Same thing with rats, mice and other vermin. I'd once chased a criminal through rat-infested sewers while in my smaller Thifilatha. The rats were running before me. They helped bring the culprit down—they were knocking him over after a while and racing across his back in their efforts to escape what they saw as a larger predator—me.