The land almost south of Eltai had taken a turn for the worse long ago, Michael reflected to himself, and it had only gone downhill since.  The lush vegetation of the plains that had been the main feature of the voyage to the city had given way to rough ground, littered with rocks.  It was a miracle Eltai was able to feed her own people, let alone export food to the other, less productive, cities that lied under her protection.  Roshin, which Michael and Eve were nearly upon, was one such example.  On more than one occasion, they had been passed by food caravans.  It seemed to be difficult to grow anything.  They had ample supplies, but Michael had insisted on trapping their food from the wild while they still had the chance.  Given the way that the land looked now, it was only going to get less and less habitable as they continued.
    Eve had walked next to Michael for the entire journey in nearly complete silence, speaking up only when she heard a caravan approaching (her hearing seemed nearly supernatural to Michael.  To Eve, it was a blessing from her goddess.)  There had not been any brigands on this road, though for what reason Michael didn't know.
    It had taken them three days to arrive where they were currently at.  Michael had been tracking their progress, more or less accurately, using the map that Father Dabiri had given them, and at this point, he called a halt to their march.
    "We're nearly to Roshin."  He announced to Eve. Eve merely looked at him curiously.  "Eve, what do you know of this place?"
    Eve shrugged.  "I've never been here... I've been in the temple my entire life, remember?  We do have people from this town who will occasionally make a pilgrimage to our temple.  They seem friendly enough, but that probably doesn't speak for their population as a whole."
    Michael didn't reply.  Instead, he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.  If there was going to be trouble, he would need it.
    The two of them started their march once more.  It took Michael longer than they had thought to arrive in the city - the sun had nearly set by the time the two arrived.  The town of Roshin was a small town, even to Michael's standards.  It seemed slightly better off than Csytyr had been, except there were no town walls.  Michael was about to wonder where their defense was when he realized that they probably wouldn't need it.  Any self-respecting brigand would take one look at the shabby town and move on, seeking better rewards elsewhere.  Michael didn't have that option, so instead he lead Eve to what he hoped was an inn.
    The inn - or tavern, Michael couldn't immediately tell, was about half full.  There was little conversation among patrons, most just sat, staring emptily and draining their mugs of beer.  The few who were talking to one another spoke in hushed whispers, as though afraid to be overheard.  None of them noticed the two enter.  Michael instructed Eve to find a seat, while he made his way to the bar.
    The bartender regarded Michael suspiciously.  "I don recognize ye" he said, keeping a close eye on the knight.  "So ye'd best be tellin' me what it is you be wantin'.  An if'n it's money, y'can go lookin somewhere else, 'cause we ain't got none."
    Michael shook his head.  "I need two rooms for the evening."
    The bartender hesitated.  "I got a few roms free up th' stairs there.  You willin' to pay for 'em?"
    Michael took out his pouch and placed three gold pieces on the counter - a fair price in any decent inn.  The bartender stared at them as though he had never seen such marvelous items before.  He looked up at Michael.  "They're all yours mister." retrieving a two keys from below the counter, the barkeep handed them over.  Michael turned around to inform Eve of this rather fortunate development, which was when he first spotted the commotion.
    While Michael had been talking at the bar with the local, Eve had been sitting quietly at the table, mulling over the situation.  Being sent out on a holy quest had its advantages, and she'd follow wherever her goddess told her to go, but this particular adventure wasn't her first choice.  Especially because Michael was along with her.  If it were Father Dabiri, or any of the other clerics, for that matter, she wouldn't have a difficult time at all.  But Michael?  Eve, unlike most of the rest of the clerics and the population in general, actually knew what Michael thought about the goddess.  He was as much a believer as any other member of his army had been.  Which is to say, very little at all.  Even after what he had witnessed, he refused to believe.  Eve could handle nonbelievers, she dealt with that quite a bit. But people who were in denial?  She didn't think she could put up with that for long.  And Morhaime had this habit of always treating her as a child - like this town for instance.  He had put her at a table, while he went and did the dirty work.  She was only a few years younger than he was!  What gave him the right to treat her like this?
    Eve's thoughts fled from her mind as she noticed that someone else was sitting at the table with her.  An older woman, looking gaunt and sickly, was peering at her with an intense gaze.
    "Miss... if I may speak to ye?"
    Eve nodded, suddenly interested in what this woman had to say.
    "Miss, there's a problem in this 'ere town... and I saw that ye're wearin' cleric's robes, and I thought ye could help us."
    "I can try..." Eve offered.  She wasn't willing to offer complete assurance of success, but she was telling the truth.  She would try.
    "Oh, thank ye!  Thank ye so much!  Me son, you see, he's possessed of a daemon!" the old woman explained.
    A heavy man, seated near their table, turned to the the old woman.  "Mary, are ye goin' off again about ye'r son?  Gods know, there's no 'elp for im!  All who've been through here before 'ave said so!  Why, even that old man from that far temple could do naugt to help ye!"
    The old woman (apparently Mary) glared at the man.  "Ye shut yer mouth!  Ye're nothin' more than a heathen, Sir Tallow!  Me son shall survive!"  Mary looked down into her lap.  "'e shall!" she objeted pitifully.
    Michael had returned at this point, giving Eve a puzzling glance.  Eve looked up at him, feeling a little of her earlier anger return.  "Michael, come with me.  This woman needs our help."
    Mary looked up with surprise, first at Eve, than toward Michael.  "Ye mean it?  Ye'll help me, in spite of what that old scalywag over yonder told ye?"
    Eve nodded.  "I will try, that is as much as I can tell you."
    Mary looked too overcome for words.  Slowly, and only with Michael's help, she managed to stand up.  "This way... me house is this way..."  she started walking from the bar, Eve following afterward.  Michael caught up to the cleric, whispering to her.
    "What's going on here?  First I hear the argument between this woman and some brute, and now we're following her?  She's probably senile and just attatching to us for the company!" he hissed.
    "This woman needs our help!" Eve hissed back.  "And I can't just stand idly by and let her suffer without trying to do anything!"  with that, she turned her back to Michael and followed the old woman.  Michael, who wasn't about to let Eve go off alone, had no choice but to run and attempt to catch up.
    The woman's hovel was exactly that. A shabby construction of dirt and wood that somehow managed to stay erect loomed at the edge of town.  Mary darted inside, nearly yelling in her excitment for Eve to follow her.  Michael was much less excited.  He was still convinced that this was all a waste of time.  They should be resting!  If they managed to get up early enough the next morning, they could make it to Plinth by the end of the week. Now it seemed that no such thing would be happening.
Michael was about to voice his opinion when he entered the one-roomed building.  It was then that the magic within his sword leapt into being.
    The sword was in the knight's hands before he even realized it.  He had taken two steps toward the bed, which he now realized, was where the toddler was lying.  There were frenzied screams all about him.
    "Michael, what are you doing?  You can't kill it!"
    "Oh me gods!  Oh, me gods!  'e's goin' to slaughter my child!  Stop 'im!"
    With an overt act of will, Michael put his sword down - though he did not sheathe it.  Its magic did not awaken for no reason.  Looking at the toddler revealed nothing unusual - it seemed to be an ordinary child.  His sword told him otherwise, however.
    "Michael, are you all right?" Eve seemed a little worried now.  After all, it wasn't like him to behave like this.
    Michael managed to nod.  "Yes... my sword reacted to him though... there's something inside him."
    "Aye, it's as I told ye!" Mary said, keeping a wary eye on Michael.  "'e's possessed of a daemon!  I won't have 'im killed though!  'e's still me son!"
    The sword leapt into life again, and Michael's arm was swinging before he realized it.  The finely honed blade split some poor exuse for pottery into a thousand pieces, intercepting it and sparing its target - obviously Michael's head.  Before he could ask what was going on, it happened once more, this time shattering a glass vase.  More objects were swirling in the air, and Michael suddenly felt a presense in the room.
    What have we here?  Someone who's not afraid of me? A voice, mocking and terrible, rang through Michael's mind.  You should be.  Michael looked at the toddler, who was grinning at him.
    "I don't fear you."  Michael said, more of an edge to his voice than he had believed he could muster up until this point.  "The power of the goddess flows through this blade, and it is more than enough to dispatch your dealings."  As though to prove his point, Michael aimed the tip of his sword toward one of the floating objects.  The sword hummed louder, and the rock fell to the ground.
    This is but a fraction of what I am capable of!  I have been sent here to destroy you all, and there is nothing that you can do!  Your precious weapon will avail you naught, for I grow mightier by the second!
    Michael caught a hint of desparation in the voice - it was bluffing.  It had to fear his sword - there was no other magic (well, perhaps one other magic) remotely like it.  Michael stepped forward.
    Be gone from this place while you still can!  I warn you!
    Not regarding the voice at all, Michael touched the flat edge of the sword against the child's forehead.  Again, a loud vibration sounded through the metal, and he felt the power within the sword as he had in the battle against Stinnett - all consuming, all powerful.  Then it was gone.
    With a clatter, everything that had been held in the air fell to the earth at once.  Eve looked at Michael in awe.  Mary, the old woman, was crying and holding the inert body of her child in her arms.  A moment later, the toddler began to cry.  Michael's sword was still.
    Eve spoke up.  "Michael... was that Stinnett?"
    Michael shook his head.  "That was not Stinnett... that was just some minor demon or something that happened to be in the wrong place when I came by.  I'm not sure what's worse though.  If it had been Stinnett, that would have made sense at least.  That there are more of these things, out roaming the earth... that's something that I don't like at all."