Melsuria was tense, and fortunately didn't have to hide it, since it would only be natural for her host to be tense as well. She chafed under the crude clothing Sheema's body wore. Weeks in the forest hadn't done it any favors, and it hadn't been very good to begin with. They didn't have any clothing that fit Sheema's unusual shape.

Summer Daring had been gone perhaps a half hour, and everyone had gathered their belongings in the front room, ready to pile into the wagons quickly once they arrived. Piper and Charlie had left as well; Piper had gone to warn Tom at the Temple, and Charlie headed to the west gate to wait for a chance to help when the wagons tried to get out of town.

Everyone stopped and listened as the Temple bells starting ringing: Clang-clang-clang-clang. Clang-clang-clang-clang...She grimaced. She wasn't sure what the signal meant but it probably wasn't good.

A minute later, Melsuria twitched as a ripple of magic rolled over the building. She shivered, then shot a glance at Diavla, who suddenly stilled. She had the air of someone who thought she might have heard something and was listening to see if it happened again.

"Sheema?" the amber-eyed elf called quietly.

"Yes."

"Did you just feel the spirits move?"

"Yes." Melsuria was pretty sure she knew what it was, unfortunately. The wave had come from somewhere to the north, and the mana felt thicker in that direction now, as if its natural flow had been stilled.

They're putting up a sealing ward around the town. I'll be trapped.

Melsuria fought down her initial panic. The temptation to abandon her host and flee the city before the trap fully closed was almost overwhelming, but she had thousands of years of experience, and knew how to stop and think. There were good arguments either way.

If I stay, and the trap closes, there's a chance that they'll banish me, or even destroy me. But to do that, they would need not only to stop Quazulin, but also to remain vigilant and perform hundreds or even thousands of demon detection spells. They would have to keep guard over the wards at all times. In the worst case, I could damage one of the wards, abandon this host and flee.

On the other hand, if I do flee, this host will wake up and warn everyone. I could break her will and command her not to, or leave behind a sacrificial shard to be purged. If I run, I would be greatly weakened; I just burned nearly all of my accumulated mana defending myself from Sheema's attack. Once I possessed someone, almost certainly a human, there would still be anywhere from minutes to days before I awoke and took control. I would be gambling that the hunters fail to find my new host, and they would be searching everywhere if they realize I've escaped.

Besides, this host is absolutely magnificent, and if I leave it, I can't get back in. It would be a tragedy to abandon this body without leading at least a few orgies in it before I go. I'll gamble on staying, for now.

That said, there's no reason for all of us not to get out of the town if we can do it before the wards all are activated. They should have coordinated the four wards to all go up at the same time; something must have gone wrong.

Now, what will Quazulin be doing...? Trying to get out of town, which means he'll be headed to the town gate in the west wall. Now, will those mages use a design that lets them keep the gate open? Or will the gates be sealed to mortals as well? If we start to leave town and I can't cross the barrier, I'm going to need an excuse to leave the others or stop them all. It'll be pretty obvious to anyone suspicious.

"Sheema?"

Oh. That's my host's name. Right. She realized that Diavla had called her more than once. Melsuria blinked. "Sorry, I was...thinking."

Another pulse of magic swept by, this one from the south. Two wards up.

"There it is again," Diavla said firmly. "I know I felt it that time."

Might as well tell them. "They're activating wards to seal the demon in the town. Two are up, and there are two to go."

For some reason Kervan and Diavla both stared at Arven, who looked back at them in puzzlement. "What?"

"Nothing," Kervan muttered. "Um...we're in town, so it doesn't make sense to ask you to scout."

Slow hoofbeats reached their ears, and Melsuria and Eubexa peeked out between the shutters. "Here come the wagons."

True to her word, Summer Daring was driving one wagon, and an unfamiliar man drove the other. They plodded up in front of the house and stopped. It was time to go.

Kervan, Arven, Orvan, and Varga did the most lifting, making a few trips to pile all their belongings into the back of the lead wagon. Without Tom to lift Eubexa up, Kervan and Arven cooperated to boost the succubus-in-training. Melsuria was going to need a bit of a boost as well; the main failing of this host was how short she was.

"Excusing me!" a deep, rough voice called in stilted Elvish. "Have thee magic?" Melsuria wanted to slap her forehead in frustration. Of course the dwarf would show up now... She looked past the wagon to find the stout fellow moving at his not-very-impressive top speed down the street towards them. He's probably on his way to the Temple.

"Yes!" Diavla called.

The dwarf threw a metal rod towards them with a fair bit of force; Arven snatched it out of the air and handed it to Diavla. "Magic give it!" The dwarf yelled.

That must be the enchanted rod for repelling demons. Diavla held it a moment, closed her eyes, and Melsuria could feel the rod flicker to magical life. Then she opened her eyes, shifted it in her hands, and—

The demon's eyes widened. Oh, don't even—!

—Diavla threw the rod to Melsuria.

Her host did not have the speed or dexterity to avoid getting hit; with only the barest moment to react, she held out her hands to catch the rod, closing her eyes and flinching away. The rod slapped into her hands and she gripped it, ready to throw it as far away as possible. Her hands stung...but there wasn't any spiritual pain.

The rod didn't hurt her.

Melsuria held very still for a moment, then opened one eye and peered fearfully at the horrible thing in her hands. The pain didn't come. She blinked and stared at the rod, then forced herself to relax her shoulders and straighten up. A smile started to form on her lips and she did her best to suppress it, but it was all she could do not to cackle in glee.

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It's targeted at Quazulin, and it doesn't hurt me! This is wonderful! With only a moment's hesitation, the demoness started pouring mana into the rod, braced for a change or sudden pain, which didn't happen. It moments, the rod was charged; however, Melsuria remembered to pretend that it took longer than that. She looked at the runes on the rod, smiling at the demonic ones she had given the Temple, but wary of the others. For a rush job, this is actually quite good work.

The dwarf was approaching. I'd better not let the surface-digger get too close, just in case. "Kervan, take this and give it back to him...just a moment..." She put on an act, closing her eyes and scrunching her face a moment as if pushing the mana hard, then handed it over. "It's got some cha—it's partially filled," she corrected herself. Use the Elvish terms for things. "It should be enough for the moment."

Huffing and puffing, the dwarf arrived. Melsuria had to think a moment; Eubexa didn't know much Dwarvish. Sheema barely knew how to say hello. The dwarf's Elvish was better than either. Melsuria herself of course had never learned Dwarvish—the jailers were famously taciturn when it came to their prisoners, and it wasn't as if she ever could have possessed a dwarf to learn the language!

Kervan handed the rod back to the Dwarf, and Melsuria nodded when he looked at her for confirmation. "It is good? It do?"

"Yes. It works. It has big magic now," she tried in baby Elvish, then lowered her voice and turned to Orvan beside her. "Help me up, please?" Don't come any closer, dwarf. She wasn't sure whether Dwarves could sense demons directly, and if so, at what range.

Too late, she remembered that everyone was wearing amulets of Protection From Demons. Orvan gripped her hand, and she stifled a hiss of pain. She pulled out of Orvan's grip the moment she got into the wagon bed. And now, I'm riding in a wagon with half a dozen people wearing amulets. Marvelous. She started sweating and concentrated on not touching anyone else. I feel as if I were a fish getting grilled. How am I going to avoid this as we travel?

"Thank you," the Dwarf panted in his own language, then looked back and forth a moment. Heaving a great sigh, he started hurrying back the way he had come, the rod gripped tightly in his hand.

A few moments later, they had arranged themselves in the wagons, and finally started rolling. Summer drove the forward wagon, with Kervan sitting beside her. Meanwhile, Varga was driving the salt wagon, with Eubexa veiled and seated beside her. That way, there was at least one fluent Western speaker for each wagon while they passed the gate. The man Brody had left quickly as soon as the wagons had been delivered to the elves, and Summer was willing to ride with them out of town a ways and then walk back.

Unfortunately, an ox-drawn wagon was not famed for its ability to make tight turns, and they were pointed in the wrong direction. They would have to roll up Summer Street to the town wall, where they would turn left onto East Lane, and then left again onto Market Street, which ran the length of the town and exited through the west gate.

Melsuria wondered whether there was a postern gate in the east wall that she could slip through, and possibly meet up with the others around the outside. Unfortunately, she couldn't think of an excuse to leave the group or take some people with her. The elves had just managed to get reunited, after all. They wouldn't take kindly to splitting up again. The wagons turned onto East Lane.

Even though they were in a hurry, it was impossible to make an ox pull a wagon at any speed above its usual slow, plodding trudge. We should get horses, she mused. She understood why they hadn't before—horses were more expensive to purchase and care for, and couldn't pull as much weight. The group had some money now, though much of it was tied up in trade stock. The others might not agree with the greater expense,

But it surely would be nice to be able to shift our asses faster.

Melsuria braced herself, in case the eastern part of the demon ward was activated while they were nearby. It would be very difficult to hide her reaction if they were too close. I'm taking gamble after gamble while I'm with this group. I should get myself seized by a noble I can control and get away from these people.

Can't do it yet, though. I need to be far, far away from any people who are alert for demons before I start to spread my influence. With such thoughts, Melsuria managed to distract herself from her worry as they plodded ever so slowly up East Lane.

"My Lady! My Lady!" a vaguely familiar voice cried in Western. Melsuria tried to remember where Sheema had heard it.

"I think that's your suitor, Sheema," Diavla observed. Melsuria recalled the human now. Sheema had barely paid attention to him, and promised him a kiss if he would help the elves. Well, I wouldn't want him to do without, not when I can inflame his lust and get a quick snack. She stuck her head out past the back flap.

"There you are, my beautiful vision."

The young man was walking behind the wagon. Melsuria gave him a brilliant smile and subtly loosened the lacing on her tunic, giving him an eyeful of her pale and generous curves. She was about to start flirting with him when she remembered that Sheema didn't know Western. Melsuria had absorbed Eubexa's knowledge of languages, but she couldn't explain her sudden fluency to the others.

The man looked smitten, and practically stunned by the allure of her body. Melsuria gave him a coy but welcoming expression, and got down on her hands and knees, which both brought her head level with his and conveniently gave him an even better view. Kevin—That was his name!—trotted closer.

"Thank you, Kevin," she told him in Western. She stretched out, and the man stepped up for his kiss. She could sense his need even without using any of her power, and read his soul for feedback as she gave him a kiss to remember. The ride was a little bumpy, but she signaled to him that she enjoyed it and was eager for more.

The man grabbed hold of the wagon and climbed up, crouching on the very edge. Melsuria rose to her knees, put her hands on his cheeks and kissed him more thoroughly. Ahhhh, that's better. I was positively starving. His breathing was ragged by the time they broke the kiss.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured. "Can I see you again? Where are you going next?"

"Middleton," Diavla supplied. "We go Middleton."

"Perfect. I go Middleton, too."

The wagons turned onto Market Street and started rolling away from the east wall.

"Sheema, I'm surprised," Diavla murmured.

"What? He's cute! And he's helping us!" Melsuria protested. Sheema's memories included her being somewhat aloof to most male elves, a natural result of being such a spectacular beauty, but there was room in the group's knowledge of her personality to reveal a "hidden" lustful side. Especially given the recent trauma they had all gone through, it was plausible for Sheema to have re-evaluated a few of her priorities.

"My friends are waiting for me outside of town. May I ride with you?"

She pretended that she didn't understand and turned to Diavla. "Say more simple, please," the amber-eyed elf requested.

"Um...I...here? I go with you?"

"He wants to ride with us. Any objections?" The others shook their heads. "Yes, Kevin. Good."

The human wasn't wearing an amulet, and Melsuria fervently hoped that no one would give him one right away. She made room for the young man, keeping him as a buffer between her and all the amulets in the back of the wagon. Feeding on the man's lust was giving her a little bit of her strength back, and she needed every bit of it she could muster when the ward on the east wall suddenly flared into being behind them.

She managed not to cry out. Diavla asked, "was that the eastern ward going up?" Not quite trusting her voice yet, Melsuria nodded.

The moment of truth is coming. The ward at the West Wall had most likely failed; it was close to the Guardhouse, Quazulin's base of operations, and with increased traffic there was more opportunity for chaos and random interference in a magical working. We might actually make it out.

An angry mob parted for them, shying away from their ready weapons and their amulets of protection. The wagons kept rolling, past the Keep, and downhill towards the gate. Melsuria peeked out the back of the lead wagon occasionally, not willing to run the gauntlet of amulets to move towards the run and get a look at what was ahead of them.

"There's a fight going on at the wall," Summer reported. "The town gate is closed." Melsuria waited for further news, as the wagons moved closer.

There was a strong pulse of magic that felt a bit familiar. Diavla stiffened. "That was Tom!"

A moment later, the wards snapped into place, trapping Melsuria inside Oak Mill. She leaned out the back of the wagon, looking around frantically. As the wagons stopped, she hopped down and started to head for the front. Where do we go now? How can I—?

A massive, sickening wave of hate rolled over her.

Quazulin is here.

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