“Samlor,” said the Napatan scholar, “get out! I brought you here!”
The demon had trembled back to near stasis for a moment. Now it lurched far enough forward in its unsupported motion that it was clear one hand was reaching for Khamwas’s head even as the kick extended toward the Cirdonian.
“There is none who abandons his traveling companion whom the gods do not call to account for it,” said Tjainufi.
“Fuck your gods,” said Samlor, who was already sliding the knife back under his belt to free his hands. He encircled the Napatan’s waist, under- neath the cape for a firmer grip, with his left arm.
“No-” said Khamwas desperately.
“Do yowjob,” Samlor snarled back as he lifted the smaller man. The air swirled with the demon’s renewed movement, but the claws now behind the caravan master did not rend him as he stepped with regal determination to the ladder.
Focusing on the creature from the stone was for Khamwas. Samlor hil Samt had the responsibility of getting them both back up the ladder while his companion did that job, eyes, arm, and staff locked into their duty
Khamwas’s body was muscular, but weight wasn’t the problem. Carry- ing him upright while Samlor’s right hand needed to grip the ladder for balance was brutal punishment, and it reminded him of how badly he had strained himself getting into this damned house
One foot above the other, each step a deliberate one because a jolt at the wrong time might break Khamwas’s concentration irrevocably No way to tell what was happening behind him, nothing to do about it if things weren’t well One foot and then the other.