Demon-Killing Sword

5.3 Coat

"Huginn, what's the hold-up?" a familiar voice asked from behind the boy. It took her a second to place it, but when she did, she whipped her head around in surprise. Kjell? From the memory in the quarry. That—it wasn't hundreds of years old?

A second later, the man himself appeared. She hadn't seen him in the memory, but it didn't surprise her that he was tall and narrow-shouldered, a sword slung within easy reach on his hip and a scarf tied at a rakish angle across his forehead, barely holding back a shock of bright red hair. It was as if a noble-thief had stepped whole from a bard's songs, except for the dirt on his clothes and the mud on his boots.

His eyes alighted on her, and he let out a sigh. "Hey, scat! Go on! Boom!" He nudged Huginn. "I thought you said it would run them all off?"

"I—I'm not a demon!" Muninn burst out, holding her hands out. She belatedly realized she was still holding the sword, and tucked it away so she could hold her hands out again. "I'm..." Probably shouldn't tell them about the sword, she decided, at the same moment that her traitor lips almost spilled it all. It was too dangerous to tell them until she knew them better. She wasn't green to the world. If Børge thought it was worth stealing, then these scruffy rogues would almost certainly try and take it from her.

She licked her lips. "...a traveler. I got lost."

"Those are some nice feathers, not-a-demon," Kjell said accusatorily.

Muninn lifted up her impromptu coat. "It's just a skin," she explained, as she settled it back over her shoulders. And it served me well. It stunk, but maybe that was what made it work. She was willing to stink if it meant she was ignored by demons.

Kjell waved her down with a snort. "They might play house all the way out here where the miasma isn't so thick, but there isn't a demon alive who can speak. I'm just fooling."

"Why are you setting the village on fire?" she asked.

"Scares the demons off, and besides, if all the dens burn up, it's easier to find... certain expensive things," Kjell said.

"You're scavengers," she realized. So that's what they were smuggling, down in the quarry. It was illegal to scavenge outside the walls. After all, everything out there belonged to someone. Some of it belonged to human families, who couldn't afford to pay to have someone rescue it; some belonged to demons, who technically still owned it, even if they'd gone mad. Despite the danger of getting caught by demons, plenty of scavengers still snuck over the walls, lured by the promise of forgotten treasure. There had been plenty of ex-scavengers in the slums with her. Some of them were caught by humans, their hands branded with a black S. Some were caught by demons, and lurked on the streetcorners if they came back at all, missing hands, arms, legs.

And some were caught by the miasma, and came back without their minds.

"Expeditioners, on a very official quest to return Madame Maire Tomasdotter's grandmother's fine silver," Kjell corrected her with a wink. "Anything else we happen to pick up is... incidental."

Muninn glanced back at the town. The fire raged all around them, devouring the dry-twig dens and the ancient wood of the houses all the same. "What about the demons?" she asked.

"Who cares?" Huginn snapped, the first thing he'd said. He shoved the bomb back into his bag and stomped away. Muninn and Kjell watched him go until he vanished in the smoke. Another boom shook the night a second later.

Kjell clicked his tongue and glanced at Muninn. "That's a bit of a picky subject for him," he muttered out of the side of his mouth. "Best not to mention them when he's around."

Coughing sounded out of the smoke behind them, and a girl with horns poking through her short hair appeared; Niina, Muninn recalled. "Kjell, is the little—ah!" She jumped, the hair on her head lifting to stand on end, then frowned. Her hair only flattened a little. "The hell is this?"

"A traveler," he said, then paused. Muninn stared at him, then blinked. Oh right, we haven't been introduced.

"Muninn." She held out her hand.

Niina gave her a suspicious look. "What's a kid doing all by her own, all the way out here? She smells like a demon."

"It's just a skin," Muninn said, lifting it off her shoulders.

Shuddering, Niina shook her head. "Oh gods, that smells terrible. Where did you find it?"

"Just over there." Muninn pointed.

"She can take care of herself," a voice whispered gently from over Muninn's shoulder. Muninn whirled. Niina's hair stood on end again.

"Damn it, Gunnel!" Niina protested.

Up close, Gunnel looked even taller than he had in the dream. He was a pale man, his clothes all dull and grey. Long legs only made him look worn thin, a fabric that had been stretched almost to the tearing point. He pointed solemnly at the Demon-Killing Sword. "She is protected."

"It's barely even got a blade," Niina said, rolling her eyes.

Kjell waved at the air in front of his face and coughed. "We'd best move on. Wouldn't want our little alchemist to vanish so early." He started away. The other two followed him.

"Wait!" Muninn called out. They were already fading into the smoke. Kjell took long steps, Gunnel seemed to glide across the ground, graceful as a dancer, and Niina made up for her size with a quick pace. She had to jog to catch up with them.

"Wait," she called again, when she caught up to them. "Can I come along?"

Kjell broke into an easy smile. "I thought you'd never ask."

"Kjell!" Niina admonished him. "You can't pick up every kid you see—"

"She's got the sword. She can take care of herself. You can, right?" He tipped a wink at Muninn.

Muninn nodded. "I've managed so far," she said earnestly. But it would be so much easier when she could follow a scavenging party. They'd have food. They'd know the lay of the land. Even if they weren't going all the way to the demon king's castle, whatever portion of the journey she could travel with them would be easier for her than going it alone.

He scruffed her hair. She ducked away on instinct. Kjell's eyes lingered on her, a distant hurt in them. Then he smiled. "Welcome aboard, kiddo."