A Tale of Winter's Tide

"Damn, not again," Kurent held on tightly to the horse’s reins. The placid gray gelding saw what was approaching, and rolled its eyes wildly, digging in its hooves.

Kurent swore colorfully as the reins slipped in his gloves and the horse reared. Surprisingly, the young woman riding it stayed on calmly, even if she did not seem to be using her legs to grip the sides of the horse, and murmured soothingly at the animal Its ears flicked, but it continued to jerk and shy away. Kurent finally managed to get a handful of rein and yanked down the horse’s head, then he snarled.

It was not a pretty sound – nor did it sound particularly human. The horse squealed, then stopped, quivering.

"You didn’t have to do that," the young woman said mildly, returning her eyes to the book on her lap. She brushed hair the color of honey sunset behind her pointed ears.

Kurent glared at the large black horse, which had been approaching them. It stood some distance away, flicking its tail innocently. You could call it a splendid specimen of equine breeding if you ignored the red eyes and the pointed teeth. "K’yanne, please tell Diablo to go away."

"It was your idea to come here on horseback." K’yanne did not even look up. "We could have come in wolf form. The citizens of the city are used to it already. Father is Duke now."

"I know that," Kurent growled. The horse let out a terrified, nearly whimpering noise.

"You’re hurting it," K’yanne’s lower lip trembled.

Kurent shot her a look, then sighed in defeat. "Right. But I’ve had enough of this horse." He put his hands on her waist, and lifted her off the gelding without much apparent effort. The horse attempted to bolt, but more of the strange black horses seemed to flow out of the trees, and it pawed the ground fearfully. Then the strange horses efficiently began to herd it towards the stables.

After some juggling, Kurent managed to carry K’yanne comfortably, who continued to read her book as if nothing had happened, and he strode past Diablo, pointedly ignoring the nightmare. It whinnied at them, and K’yanne waved happily at it, then shifted slightly in her white silk gown, and pulled her heavy cloak more carefully over her bared arms.

Kurent inclined his head to the guards at the main entrance, and maliciously stepped into the hall without wiping his boots, trooping snow in after him.

More Talons seemed to materialize from nowhere to take their cloaks, and one passing mage sniffed at the footprints and murmured a chant.

"Hey…" Kurent began, but then the moisture and snow seeped out and swirled into a bluish ball of liquid that the mage promptly ‘threw’ out of the door to splash in the snow outside.

"I hate magic," Kurent said under his breath, though only when the mage had left the scene. The markings on the robe said ‘Last Year Mage’, and the tightly controlled stride said ‘Werewolf’ just as loudly.

"It’s pretty," K’yanne turned a page.

Kurent wisely decided not to comment.

"Lady K’yanne? This way please," one Talon approached and bowed. Kurent glanced at the immaculate uniform over chain mail. Graduate, in six-year tenure. Shiny boots, ironed clothes, shiny armor. That would not be Zaknafein’s doing. Zaknafein seemed to be able to rumple chain mail just by looking at it, and he did not have very strict dress codes – left to him, the Talons would resemble a scruffy band of hooligans.

Which they basically were, Kurent added sourly as he followed the Talon.

"We may have to do something about that," K’yanne murmured.

"What?" Kurent felt a tiny prick of panic.

"They never seem to notice you," K’yanne continued.

Kurent relaxed. "I don’t mind. The whole point of being a thief is not to be noticed."

"If you steal anything…"

"Your father would be upset, I know."

"Upset…yes, that would be it. Such a simple way of describing it. In the same way a squall would be a bit of rain."

They reached some sort of upper hall, and the Talon bowed and left. Kurent looked relieved. Obviously someone else was going to meet them. He felt uncomfortable amongst Talons...with the exception of K’yanae of course. Unless she had Entreri hovering near her, and she always seemed to now.

"K’yanne!" A laugh, and a bound, and what first looked like a pretty drow female was in front of them. Amber eyes sparkled, then she somehow managed to hug the both of them.

"K’yanae…I did not expect to see you here," K’yanne said delightedly. "The twins?"

"Are here, dearest sister," Two identical elves jogged up, and one of them – wearing a mage robe – took K’yanne from Kurent.

"Oh. Hello Kurent," K’yanae said, as if as an afterthought.

"I was waiting to be noticed," Kurent said dryly, then he squinted at one of the elves. "You are…"

"This is Kalain and this is Kaswain," K’yanne said, pointing out each in turn.

Kurent shrugged. "I don’t know how you do it."

"They don’t smell alike," K’yanae commented, "Even if you couldn’t differentiate them by sight."

Kurent shuddered, the barest ripple of movement, but all four of them noticed it.

"You are one of us now," K’yanae reminded him, "The wolf isn’t to be afraid of, it’s to be cherished."

Kurent realized that all four of them were staring at him. As in all moments when he felt uncomfortable, his wound under his eye patch began to itch. He absently raised his hand to rub it.

"Don’t," K’yanne and K’yanae said immediately.

Kurent glared at the two of them. To get some small revenge, he said as neutrally as possible, "Where’s your shadow?"

"Why, I’m standing on it," K’yanae said innocently. "Look..."

"I meant the assassin. You know, tall...dark...handsome…" Kurent felt mildly proud that his voice was steady.

K’yanae pouted at him and K’yanne shot him a warning look, but he beamed. "He’s around here somewhere," she said vaguely.

"Oh dear," Kalain mumbled.

"This is the Entreri person you were writing to us about?" Kaswain inquired.

"You mean you didn’t see him?" Kurent felt his voice rise slightly in surprise.

"We came first," K’yanae said in the same airy voice, "Namaen wanted to talk with Entreri, so they went somewhere. Then the twins came, and we talked a bit..."

"And you’re not worried?" K’yanne blinked. "Sister…"

"I know what he wants to do. Entreri’s more than capable of taking care of himself." K’yanae said, with a firm ‘No more about this topic’ undercurrent in her voice. She was always too headstrong, Kurent remembered.

"And S’vanarr?" K’yanne continued.

"Is entertaining the students of Griffin House." K’yanae said promptly. A little too promptly, but the others apparently decided to let this pass.

"Aren’t you afraid that one of them would kill the other?" Kurent said sharply.

"Entreri won’t kill Namaen because I told him not to," K’yanae shrugged complacently. "Let them work it out. Oh, and Father wants to see you."

"No he doesn’t," Kurent said automatically. He smirked when K’yanae rolled her eyes.

"Of course he does," K’yanne chided gently. She did most things that way.

"Whether he wants to or not, he’s in his Study with the rest of them. Off you go." K’yanae pointed.

"I know where his Study is, miss," Kurent said with dignity.

"Come, sister…we should talk," Kaswain interjected hurriedly before K’yanae could say something sarcastic.

Kurent watched as the four departed, with Kalain carrying K’yanne. He frowned, and rubbed his eye patch. He did not feel comfortable among werewolves, even if he was technically one now.

The most infuriating thing about them, Kurent thought as he headed towards the Study, was that they all followed some sort of unspoken code, which was, in his opinion, leaning towards barbaric. K’yanae let Entreri ‘talk’ with Namaen because in the law of wolves, if two males wanted one female, they fought over her. It probably didn’t even occur to her that this could be the wrong thing to do. The twins, as unmatched males, didn’t like conflict between a ‘matched’ male and a presumably ‘matched’ female, so they always acted as peacemakers…

And he didn’t even want to think about what K’yanne did.

Worse, he didn’t know where he stood in most of the ‘wolf’ matters. No matter what the ‘inner’ voice said to him, he still was new to this.

All in all, it gave him a headache.

Yes, well, he liked K’yanne. Very much. She was beautiful, and intelligent, and...the only faults Kurent could find in her (if this did not sound too calculating) was that sometimes she acted like her father. He did want to ‘mate’ her, but really, you’d think these creatures should ask first...

Some Talons ignored him, some of them greeted him, depending on (if they were werewolves) on their opinion of his status in their eyes. He was Outsider courting one sired by the pack leader, and some of them had opinions…

Kurent’s hand found the hilt of his rapier, and he felt better. He nodded at the guards at the double doors of the Study, then opened the door and entered before they could formally announce him. His smirk widened as he ‘felt’ their glares at his back.

Zaknafein sat on his study table, with Rimn and Gamier on the divan. They looked up as he entered, then all three stood up. Kurent smiled and exchanged fond greetings with Rimn – the once gangling boy had grown up tall and strong, even if his hair seemed to be graying, and he seemed to be putting on weight. Gamier was wearing full plate, even indoors, but at least he wasn’t wearing gauntlets as he shook Kurent’s hand firmly. Shaking gauntleted hands put Kurent in mind of torture devices.

Finally Zaknafein, unchanged, openly wearing chain mail. Neira was probably distracted with something else today. He shook Kurent’s hands, and actually smiled, if a bit wolfishly. "When’s the wedding?"

Kurent glared at him through his one good eye.

"I admit to being shocked, myself," Gamier rumbled, "Our bachelor finally tying the knot…"

"The sun might as well rise from the north," Rimn agreed, eyes twinkling as he teased.

"Oh shut up, all three of you," Kurent sat down on the divan comfortably. "Zaknafein, this is your fault."

"Neira is excited about it," Zaknafein said blithely, maliciously. Knowing the elf, he was probably taking revenge for Kurent’s own teasing when he was getting married...or ‘mated’, as they called it.

"Women enjoy these pursuits," Rimn agreed, "Eila has gotten into the act as well."

"As has Bella," Gamier smiled indulgently. Creaking gently, he sat back down on the divan. It seemed to curve under his weight noticeably.

Zaknafein perched on his desk. "So I would think…Spring?"

"Don’t talk about it," Kurent said sourly, then to change the subject, said, "Did you know that your daughter let her shadow ‘talk’ to Namaen?"

"Did she now," Zaknafein raised an eyebrow. "Well, finally."

Rimn blinked. "I thought you liked the boy." He did not, Kurent noted, refer specifically to either.

"It is the way of wolves," Zaknafein smiled. It was not a pleasant smile, more like the sort of expressions you would find on a friend who was about to play an unpleasant prank on you.

"K’yanae turned him?" Gamier asked, curious.

"Not to my knowledge," Zaknafein shrugged, "I do not know what she’s waiting for."

Kurent sniffed. "Maybe she’d actually ask if he wants to be turned."

"I’d have thought you’d have gotten used to it by now," Rimn said mildly.

"I have," Kurent sighed, "It’s the part about you wolves not asking before…’turning’ that gets to me."

"It’s a gift," Zaknafein said, and Kurent could not for the life of him tell if he was serious. "She may or may not ask if he wishes to be turned. But he should know that if he were not turned, he would die in a mere…forty, fifty years? And he will ask himself if she would still be ah…interested in him when he loses his looks to age. I do not care either way. Have a drink." He tossed Kurent a glass. "Happy Winter’s Tide. Let us talk about something else."

Kurent wondered idly why he was even interested in this. Entreri was under K’yanae’s jurisdiction, not his, and the man still made him uneasy. It had been some time, and he still didn’t know if the assassin could be trusted.

He gave up, and accepted Rimn’s offer to pour him some wine. "Did you know there’s a guild war down in Athkatla?"

***

Night slowly spread her wings over the city, and sounds that were buried under the bustle of the city seemed to surface below her. The sounds of rats in alleys, the hurried footsteps of people caught outside in the snow and hurrying home.

The sound of bells, high overhead, and then that of hooves and metal scraping on slate.

A muffled invective, then the rush of air and more tinkling bells, silvery and cheerful.

Looking up, an observer might be able to see a rather portly man in a bright red costume, wearing a bobble hat and white gloves, black boots gleaming dully in the street lamp light. A full white beard spilled over the red costume. The sleigh, sleek but bulky, held, other than the man, a large sack that did not seem to change its shape no matter what was taken out of it. Four pairs of reindeer led the sleigh, one in front of the other, the bells on their harnesses and on the reins jingling merrily as they galloped impossibly on thin air.

Occasionally they would stop on a building, or hover above it, and the man would, in a practiced move, heave his sack over his shoulder and jump at the chimney…and somehow slip down it as easily as a fish in wet hands. Almost immediately the man would pop back out of the chimney, climb hurriedly back into the sleigh, and go down the next chimney. Some houses he passed altogether.

But then the observer might not, because none of the few passers-by on the streets seemed to notice.

Finally the reindeer pulled the sleigh over high gates, slipping through some magical field with ease, to clatter onto the wide roof of one of the large buildings in the huge compound. The man frowned as he saw dark shapes, vaguely horse-like, occasionally flicker into sight below them, but then hefted his sack, cursed under his breath the lack of a chimney, then pushed up the window.

***

Artemis Entreri, premier assassin of Calimport, stood out in the snow, hands in the pockets of his trousers, and closed his eyes. He felt the stings of snowflakes on his cheeks that prickled and flushed in the cold, and welcomed the cold whispering caress of the wind that whipped his hair over his cheeks. The night was not a thing to be feared – she was more like an old friend, but he did not feel at peace.

The nightmares ignored him, as did any Talon that happened by, though most of those he had noticed so far were not in human form. He did not care.

Entreri, not for the first time since meeting K’yanae, felt confused. He had expected the outcome of the inevitable fight with Namaen – the boy was stronger and faster, but less skilled. He hadn’t had anything on him with silver on it, so he couldn’t have been able to kill Namaen even if he hadn’t promised K’yanae that he would not.

But now that he had defeated Namaen...everything seemed to be going on as before. No mention of it through the...dinner and the festivities after that.

Damned wolves and their damned ways.

Promised…Entreri scowled. Years ago he would not even have given his word to such a promise. Years ago, he added mentally, he would not even have considered fighting with someone unless that someone had something he wanted, or if he had a contract on him or her.

It could be called self-defense, but...

He hunched against the wind, and tried not to think about anything. It was less unsettling that way.

"Are you going to stay there all night?" K’yanae asked dryly behind him. Very close behind him. He whirled in surprise and not a little annoyance.

"Do you have to sneak up on me?" he snapped.

"My, we’re touchy tonight," K’yanae smiled infuriatingly. It seemed to be a habit of her family, Entreri noted. She was barefoot, and only wore a rather thin-looking cotton dress. And that collar, of course. He did not like the look of such a piece of clothing, but K’yanae wore it as if it were a badge.

Entreri reminded himself to keep his cool, and removed his cloak to drape it around her shoulders. She shook her head at him, but he put it on her insistently.

"Stop babying me," she scolded him, "I was having a run with Kurent and K’yanae when I saw you standing here, so of course I’m not dressed for the cold."

"It is hardly my fault that you decided to talk to me," Entreri pointed out, then he paused, then, to his surprise, his mouth said, "Now what happens?"

"Excuse me?" K’yanae raised an eyebrow. "Obviously, you go back in and sleep, and I go run with those two. Or maybe on my own – they may want privacy."

"Or with Namaen?" Entreri put in without thinking.

K’yanae’s eyebrow went higher, if that was possible. She folded her arms, and fixed him with a cold amber stare.

Entreri cursed himself mentally as he looked away. "Damn it, I…"

No answer. He risked a glance – K’yanae had disappeared.

Entreri tried to find a word to describe his feelings, then gave up and savagely kicked at the snow. Then he raised eyes to the sky in reflex to take a calming breath, and frowned. Something seemed to be floating outside a window above him.

The only problem was, he couldn’t see anything.

He squinted.

A little ripple of movement in the air, but it could be imagined…

Or it could be an invisibility spell. And that room was – Entreri concentrated – a guestroom. That paladin’s son...some young boy, was sleeping there for the night.

Oh no.

Entreri looked around for a quick way up, and on first glance didn’t see any route. Then his mind pointed out certain details.

He winced. This was going to take some effort.

***

K’yanae, wolf form, loped down the corridors in the Citadel. The wolf was calm, something which she needed in great profusion at the moment. How dared he…

He is not a wolf.

I would think that is obvious, she snapped at her partner.

He didn’t do anything.

The wolf subsided into confusion for a moment, then continued. You don’t like him?

K’yanae, buoyed in the wolf’s consciousness, kept silent, and felt her partner’s mild annoyance. He won’t even let me use his first name! He doesn’t say anything, but I can see him wince each time I call him by it...

The wolf paused before a staircase, then began to ascend. It seemed to think of something else. Maybe he doesn’t like it.

Well, I like him too. Most of the time.

Again no answer. The wolf was definitely annoyed now. Sister elf, the one you know Entreri beat Namaen fairly. You should…

True. The wolf sighed. He wants you though.

K’yanae hesitated before answering, of course not. Father doesn’t really care.

Exactly what it does…sister elf! There is someone climbing into that room…the wolf stopped and pointed its nose at a door.

Morikan, that’s Baaer’s room…

***

The portly man cursed softly as his offensively red costume caught on the sill, and there was a rip.

The boy on the bed slept peacefully, probably about ten years of age. The man dropped his sack and took out a parcel, which he carefully placed at the bottom of the bed.

He was turning around to go out when another man climbed through the window, swearing fluently. Then he shot him a steely glare, slipped into the room, and then drew a dagger and a sword. "Right," he said, squinting, "I cannot see you, but you will move slowly away from the bed, or we will see if your invisibility spell extends to invulnerability. Remove the spell as well," he added.

The portly man paused, then glanced once at the window.

The other man let out a cry of pain when a reindeer gouged him in the back with sharp horns. The boy in the bed woke up immediately, and his eyes widened. "Master Entreri…"

"Out of the room, boy!" Entreri, if that was the man’s name, hissed. "Gods…"

The portly man took advantage of Entreri’s distraction to shove him aside and make a lunge for the window, but then the door swung open with enough force to slam it against the wall, making the wood shudder.

A white-haired wolf fairly shot into the room, and lunged at the portly man, snarling. The man swung the sack, a purely instinctive move, but succeeded in knocking the wolf into the wall with a crack.

It got up unsteadily, whining and shaking its head, but the portly man had paused. Entreri’s sword pointed at his nose.

"Off with the...spell," he said, biting his lip against the apparent pain.

The portly man shrugged, and frowned. The spell slid off him, and Entreri blinked. "What in the world..."

"What is going on here?" a drow elf entered the room, only wearing a hastily put on robe, but holding two swords, one of which had an edge that glowed redly. The elf blinked. "Eh?"

***

"Your name?"

The intruder had been frog-marched to the Study, and he was seated self-consciously on a stool before the fire. Zaknafein hadn’t bothered to get properly dressed, and Gamier had to be calmed down before becoming any help. Verdana was putting the finishing touches on healing Entreri, who was seated on the divan beside K’yanae. Neira and Eila were supporting Bella somewhere, and were also firmly preventing Baaer from joining the ‘interrogation’. S’vanarr was with them in case of further incidents.

"Klaus." The man said hesitantly. "This is highly irregular."

"I’d give you highly irregular if you do not tell us why you were breaking into Baaer’s room," Gamier growled.

"It’s part of my curse," the man said finally, when Zaknafein began pointedly fingering Khazid’hea.

"What curse?" K’yanae inquired.

The man sighed. "If I tell you will you let me go?"

"That depends," Zaknafein said.

Klaus began to speak.

***

Klaus d’Nelre cast a practiced eye over the unloading of toys into his large store. The items were select, but the pricing varied from cheap to expensive...now then, should he put the cheap ones closer to the door, or further inside? If there were closer, people might think that that was all there was to the store...

"Be careful with those dolls, they’re porcelain!" he roared at some harried-looking workers, then shook his head. It was so hard to get good help nowadays.

The store was the biggest of its kind in Athkatla, maybe in the world. The building had cost him, but by his estimations it would be worth it. There were plenty of children in this city, and there didn’t seem to be many toy makers around.

There would be even fewer once the store opened. Klaus permitted himself to smile widely. Progress was everything. If toy-makers couldn’t learn to cater to demand, then he, Klaus, would teach them what being an entrepreneur was all about. He couldn’t care less about their livelihood...what could they make that would compare to a Klaus product, made by the finest craftsmen he could find?

It was fair business, after all.

Though since there were fewer shops here, he should consider raising prices for the goods. However, if he did so then he could lose quite a bit of the threshold population...

When the store finally opened Klaus stood in the midst of the curious shoppers and smiled. Business was good. Nobles and commoners alike were buying up the goods...Klaus made a mental note to order more of the stuffed bears and the Talon figures...

***

"Talon figures?" Zaknafein repeated in astonishment.

"Figures of all the ‘heroes’ of the land are popular," Klaus said defensively, "Elminster figures were quite well received too, but many boys and girls seem to harbor dreams of becoming a Talon..."

"Ah." Zaknafein frowned. "Why was I not notified of this?"

Klaus shrugged. "Did you have to be?"

"Father, just let him continue," K’yanae said quickly, before Zaknafein could react violently.

***

...when he noticed a well-dressed boy wandering by himself. Ah, a potential customer, probably parents somewhere close buy, with lots of money...

Klaus approached and put on his best smile. "Can I help you, young master?"

The boy turned his small, inscrutable face to Klaus. "Why yes, sir. You’ve got a lot of toys here."

"That goes without saying," Klaus smiled. "What a fine spoken lad you are! Would you like a rocking horse, complete with fine leather saddle and real horse hair?" Klaus patted the mane of said product. The bells on the leather reins jingled, and he winced slightly. He hated bells. Klaus disliked a lot of things, but he never let this get in the way of business.

The boy considered this. "Sure."

"Ah, then your parents..."

"I don’t have parents," The boy said seriously. "And I’d like the rocking horse."

"Well then, the horse is..."

"You asked if I wanted it, and I said yes," the boy cut in. "Aren’t you going to give it to me?"

Klaus blinked. "You have to pay for it. This is a store."

"I don’t have money." The boy replied slowly, and Klaus could not, oddly, meet the boy’s stare.

"Then you cannot have the horse," Klaus tried to smile. "Off you go, boy."

"I want the horse."

Klaus decided he couldn’t be bothered to argue with a little boy, and turned away. At least none of the customers appeared to have been listening.

"I want the horse."

The voice was different now, deeper and harsh and guttural. Klaus whirled in astonishment, to see a seven-foot tall demon that looked more bug-like than human. Compound eyes started down at him, and the sickly green carapace seemed to be dripping corrosive slime. The creature was hunched, and spikes jutted out from his back, and its waist was absurdly thin, but somehow it still radiated an aura of malign power. Long arms with long, spear-like talons swept at the floor.

"Why...sir..." Klaus stammered, while his customers screamed and fled for the exits. "In which case...take it...a present..."

"You didn’t want to give it to me," the demon boomed.

***

The demon roared, cutting off the rest of Klaus’ frantic explanation. Then it grabbed Klaus, lifting the merchant up with one scaly hand. "You think you are going to die, little human?" it growled.

Klaus didn’t dare to speak.

"Morals, foolish all." The demon seemed to be boring holes into Klaus’ brain with his many-faceted stare, but Klaus couldn’t look away. "Well then, you shall perform the task you find most abhorrent, merchant. I will give you a workplace over one of the entrances to Hell, on one of the Poles, with the best damned souls of craftsmen. I know you don’t like elves, so they will be elven souls. Each year you will amass large amounts of presents, which you would put into a sack, which I will provide, and you will put a bit of your soul in each of the presents. Oh yes, it will be painful."

"Each year’s end on Winter’s Tide, for you the night will last. You will go to every child’s home and place a present by the bed, and when you have finished the dawn will rise. No one will see you – oh no. You may even become famous in time, when sometimes your invisibility spell does not work. But each morning when the child wakes the present will be gone, and that part of your soul with it..."

"You’d grow back your soul in the year, oh yes. But it’d be more painful than losing it. Now you’re asking, why me?"

The demon’s eyes burned. "Because it is my whim. I don’t like you. And it will also be my whim for you to wear this hat of which type you dislike, of red which you hate, and your sleigh will be led by reindeers. which you loathe. Yes, I know all your petty feelings, mortal, foolish mortal. And you will be cursed until the end of time."

"Oh, and one more thing. You’d only give presents to those kids who are ‘nice’, and leave out the ‘naughty’ ones. ‘Nice’, of course, being those who are so bright and cheerful and happy and sweet all day that it just makes you want to strangle them, yes? Ah, you ask, why would a demon want to reward the ‘nice’?"

The demon smiled, showing rows of sharp teeth, and a second mouth inside. "Why, now that you’re hell-touched, a bit of demonic essence will enter the room of a ‘nice’ child each time you leave a present. It may be too weak to affect the kid, of course, but who knows?"

***

"And that’s why I had to break into that boy’s room," Klaus finished morosely. "The demon somehow took me to the coldest place on the planet. And showed me my workroom. It’s so cold there, no matter how many fires...so cold..." his voice trailed off.

There was silence in the room for a moment.

Then Gamier asked curiously, "What was in that present?"

"What he wanted, of course," Klaus said flatly. "An adamantite crossbow strung with enchanted string that would never break, blued steel and light enough for him to fire, and it won’t pull to the left like that one you let him practise with..."

"How do you know this?" Gamier blinked.

"It comes out on letters, subconsciously written. Don’t ask."

"This demonic essence...did it taint the boy?" Verdana asked sharply. Gamier paled.

"No, it needs several hours of proximity," Klaus shuddered, as if under a compulsion. "Let me go now?"

"You still want to go around contaminating kids’ rooms?" K’yanae asked, appalled.

"No!" Klaus closed his eyes. "I hate kids, but that’s...that’s not...look, I can’t die, and if I don’t leave and finish my job the night won’t end."

"Then why did you try to run when you cannot die?" Entreri pointed out.

"Because I can be hurt." Klaus said quietly.

Zaknafein got up. "I do not feel sorry for you at all," he began carefully.

"Father," K’yanae protested.

"Zaknafein, these are clearly circumstances beyond his control," Gamier agreed.

"Which is why I am letting you go," Zaknafein continued, "Without bothering to punish you for giving us this surprise visit. Normally I do not care for uninvited guests to the Citadel."

"Thank you," Klaus said, rather pathetically.

"Is there some way to lift the curse?" Gamier asked.

Klaus shook his head. "Demons are vindictive. And petty."

"So kids have to be naughty?" K’yanae grinned suddenly. "That is so rich. I remember Mother’s occasional lecture even now..."

"Uh..."

***

"I sort of felt sorry for him," K’yanae said after Klaus had been escorted back to his reindeer.

Zaknafein shrugged.

"It’s a pity those presents disappear," she added. "Though the demon essence thing is bad, of course, but..."

"You are not a child anymore, K’yanae," Zaknafein smiled. Then his mouth twitched into a smirk. "Though sometimes..."

K’yanae poked her father hard in the ribs. "Say what?"

"Ouch."

"Yes?"

Zaknafein, sighed, then looked piercingly at Entreri, who stood behind K’yanae, a considering look that bordered on rude. "Wonder where that thief is...bah, who cares. I’m going to sleep." He stalked off.

"Father is odd sometimes," K’yanae murmured, frowning. Zaknafein only talked like that when he had a lot on his mind. Though when he had too much on his mind, he just went into an empty room and locked himself in.

"Ah." Entreri said, felt he should say something more, then found that he could not think of anything to say which would not seem inane. Most of his life had not prepared him to be the sociable type.

"How did you get up so fast, anyway?" K’yanae asked curiously.

"I climbed up the wall," Entreri shrugged. Ah, that hurt. "First you clear the ten-foot leap up to the ledge, then the rest of it has vines." Caught the edges of the ledge with his fingers, barely, and somehow managed to scramble up. The rest of the climb wasn’t easy either, but he had a vague feeling that the easier he made this sound, possibly the more impressed K’yanae would be.

"Amazing. Does this still hurt?" K’yanae walked behind him and touched the spot where the gouge had been.

"No," Entreri lied.

"I shouldn’t bother asking you," K’yanae chuckled. She pressed it, and he hissed.

"Then do not." That came out sharper than he had intended.

"Still sulking?" K’yanae sounded amused.

Entreri considered uttering something sarcastic, then decided to remain silent. Maybe ignoring K’yanae would help. He stared pointedly at the wall.

"You don’t have to freeze up on me either," K’yanae moved her hand away. "Would you rather we moved to the making up now? I don’t feel like screaming at you at the moment."

Entreri turned to face her in astonishment. K’yanae was as unpredictable as usual...she smiled innocently, as if nothing important had happened in the day. "You are strange, did you know that?"

"Compliments already, that’s a nice start," K’yanae said shamelessly, then winked suggestively. "You heard Klaus... the night’s still young. I think we have time for a private Winter’s Tide celebration..."

Anya