Trafficking in Demons

by Michael Angel

  “Oh, don’t worry about it,” I sighed. I came around the table and took a seat opposite him. “Have as much as you want. I’m not sure I’m in the mood to eat right now.”

  He gave me a curious glance. “If I may say so, you’re looking a bit sad.”

  “Sad? More like depressed.” I rubbed my temples for a moment. “Everything I do here seems to backfire.”

  “Back…fire? I’m sorry, but I don’t comprehend your meaning.”

  Ruefully, I realized that ‘backfire’ was probably found only in my home world’s vocabulary.

  “What I mean is, when I think I make two steps of progress in Andeluvia, I always end up taking one step back.” Herald seemed to get that, so I went on, trying (and failing) to keep the bitter edge out of my voice. “I can’t help but think: What’s the point? Becoming Dame gave me some great privileges, sure. I get to attend meetings where the nobility can insult me more efficiently, but that’s about it. And for that fantastic perk, I got saddled with the largest debt in the kingdom’s history. Let’s face facts. I’m just a lowly knight of an order everyone despises, and I’m practically powerless.”

  “Now, now, it is not as bad as all that. King Fitzwilliam surely has thought about the proper level of influence for you to have. Our monarch is a complicated man, and often underestimated as his aims are not always at the surface.”

  “If you’re trying to convince me things are better, keep trying,” I said wryly.

  “So I shall. You do have a marvelous spot you and your friends can use to freely commiserate,” Herald said, gesturing to encompass my tower room. “And you possess sole rights to the necessarium down the hall. A private washroom is a privilege few others have.”

  “I suppose,” I grumbled. “Well, I do get take-out service from Percival or the other royal pages. Regularly washed linens. Two free weapons and half a suit of armor a year from the palace smithy. And I just outfitted a bedroom on the floor below, which will be nice if I ever get a chance to actually sleep in it.”

  “That’s the spirit!”

  I gave him a look. “You’re awfully chipper today. Suspiciously so.”

  Herald shrugged as if to say ‘I’m sorry’. “I was hoping to dull the blow, Dame Chrissie.”

  “The blow from what?”

  “The reason for my visit. I’m here to collect a special ‘levy’ for the King to pay for the Spring Tournament.”

  I sat up straight. “What?”

  “The Spring Tournament. It may have slipped your mind, but it’s coming up in little more than a week.”

  “I know when the Spring Tournament is!” I snapped. “Why are you coming to me, of all people? You know my financial situation.”

  “I can assure you that it’s not personal, Dame Chrissie. I am tasked to go to each and every lord and knight to notify them of the levy.”

  “Didn’t I already pay my taxes for the year?” In truth, that was stretching it. I’d only paid my taxes via donations from my three friends.

  “Of course, and the owls of the Exchequer thank you for your prompt payment. But the King can issue singular fees for special events. This is one example.”

  “But why does Fitzwilliam need–”

  “The treasury had just gotten on its feet again after Raisah of the Noctua was deposed and Albess Thea restored to power,” Herald explained. “Alas, circumstance has changed this happy turn of events. The King needs an urgent infusion of cash to replace the large number of cavalry mounts that were lost at the Battle of the Oxine River. You may not be aware of this, but trained war horses are among the most expensive and valuable items reckoned in the King’s military forces.”

  I nodded, understanding. Almost four hundred of those horses had been killed at the Oxine. Fitzwilliam had little recourse but to replace them as soon as possible. Without enough mounts, the cavalry section of his army was practically useless.

  “Once those monies were used up,” Herald went on, “there was not quite enough left to fund the Spring Tournament’s costs.”

  “Can’t they make up the costs on…I don’t know, ticket sales?”

  Herald tut-tutted in response. “As has been tradition since the founding of the Kingdom of Andeluvia, citizens attend all festivals and tournaments free of charge. It is reckoned that their prompt payment of monies to the local lord accords them these privileges.”

  “What about selling refreshments? Heck, what about souvenirs?”

  “As for the vending of refreshments and trinkets, the King would run into stiff resistance from the Alehouse and Mercers Guilds. These two guilds gain quite a windfall from doing business before, during, and after these events.” He spread his hands. “Therefore, lords and knights donate according to their status and seating placement in the Spring Tournament.”

  “I’ve got to be pretty low on the list, then. I don’t have a lot of status at court, and I’ve never even been to one of these tournaments. That must mean I get a seat in the bleachers, if at all.”

  “The bleachers?”

  “You know, the cheap seats. High up in the back.”

  “Ah.” Herald let out a long-suffering sigh. “Well, now we come to delicate matters.”

  I groaned and dropped my head into my hands again. Now that I’d worked with the Lord of the Pursuivant a couple of times, I knew all his tics. Herald uttered this phrase every time he was about to drop a huge lump of bad news in my lap.

  I blinked stupidly as he told me the next bit.

  “You have to be kidding,” I said flatly. “I didn’t hear you right, did I? I mean, there is no way in all of Andeluvia that I’m doing that.”

  “I’m afraid that you did hear correctly, Dame Chrissie,” he said faintly.

  “Well, I don’t think I did. Tell me again,” I gritted. “Slowly. So I know exactly who to kill.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Herald cleared his throat and began again.

  “Dame Chrissie, it has been decided that you will have a place of the highest honor at the Spring Tournament. You shall be attending as the Primrose Lady of Spring Beauty, which, as tradition specifies, comes with ceremonial duties.”

  I kept quiet, but my scowl spoke volumes. The best part was yet to come.

  “These ceremonial duties include wearing the ‘Pink Lady’ ceremonial gown, hairstyle, and crest. You shall be welcoming the competitors by waving the customary pink kerchief as the knights enter the tournament grounds. And you shall be tossing pink ribbons to the winners of various events.”

  He wound down, a nervous look in his eyes as he saw my expression.

  “Okay,” I growled, as I reined in my temper. “Let’s start off with the basics. Why, and who?”

  “Why pink? Well, primroses are pink, and they bloom in early spring. That makes it an obvious pick for–”

  “Not that! I meant, why me?”

  “Ah, well, I’m pretty sure that it is because you are the highest-ranking female knight on the Royal Court.”

  “Uh-huh. I’m the only ‘female knight’ on Fitzwilliam’s court. Which brings me to my next questions. Who? Who stuck me with this, and can I get away with shooting them?”

  “The woman for this duty is selected by a vote from the Royal Court. For example, two years ago, Lady Behnaz was selected–”

  “So. The Royal Court picked me?”

  “Oh, yes. It’s the first time I’ve ever known any woman to receive a unanimous vote for this high honor!”

  “Those bastards!” I cursed.

  I should have known. Maybe there were a couple of misguided people who thought I deserved the honor. But most everyone knew of my financial situation. The cost of this ‘place of honor’ was more likely to break my pitifully small bank account than anything else.

  “They might be bastards,” Herald said diplomatically. “But I would advise against trying to shoot all of them. The King needs their tax monies, for this special levy if nothing else. And regardless of how you might feel, this is an honor. It is traditi
onal to have a high-ranking woman as the focal point for knightly contests.”

  “Didn’t Fitzwilliam say that he didn’t want ‘any more damned duels’ fought over me?”

  “Surely, but this is different. Duels in the tournament shall be to win a given contest, not to gain your favor.”

  I rubbed my temples one more time, trying to stave off the migraine that threatened to move in and make itself at home. “Okay. I need to know two more things. First, what happens if I flat-out refuse to do this – or if I’m unable to pay for it? And second, please tell me that this privilege is a cheap one.”

  Herald cleared his throat. “Well, now we come to delicate matters.”

  I swear, I could have cried right then.

  “To your first point,” he said, in earnestly proper tones, “the third article of the Oath of the Andeluvian Knight states: ‘Thou must observe all laws of the nobility, respect those who rightfully bear their coat of arms and sigils, and join in fasts, feasts, and offerings of the court.’ Since the Primrose Lady of Spring Beauty falls under the phrase ‘fasts, feasts, and offerings’, refusing or failing to perform this duty means that King Fitzwilliam would have to revoke your status as Dame Chrissie.”

  “There are days that I’m tempted to let the King do that,” I said bluntly.

  “Perhaps, but recall that you are now part of the Order of the Weasel. To prevent the further welshing of debts, Good King Benedict decreed that any member withdrawing from a knightly order which is currently in debt would be liable for the full amount. Immediately.”

  Just my rotten, rotten luck.

  I looked up at the high shelf where I’d stuck the order’s mascot, who I’d named ‘Grand Master Mothball’. The ineptly stuffed weasel seemed to grin idiotically back at me.

  I stifled a long-suffering moan. If I just quit, I’d be on the hook for a quarter-million crowns. If I just quit, I’d be screwed by King Fitzwilliam and his father, one right after the other. Oh, this was just great.

  “Fine,” I declared. “I’ll go through with this damned thing. What about my second question? How much is this ‘levy’ going to cost me?”

  “I would keep in mind that you shall be occupying something better than the ‘bleachers’. The Carpenter’s Guild has already offered you a substantial discount to build your personal pavilion, from which you will be observing the ceremonies. It shall be attached to the King’s royal observation stand, which gives you relatively good proximity to His Majesty. Even better, you shall have an excellent view of the contests.”

  “Stop trying to sell me on it, Herald, and tell me how much!”

  “Um…around six hundred crowns,” he said meekly.

  This time I didn’t even bother stifling my groan. My friends had come up with a hundred crowns to help me last time. But there was no way that they’d have gathered six times that amount of cash. Neither griffin, centaur, nor fayleene had any use for cash in the first place.

  “I’ve been so busy trying to keep myself alive,” I said, my voice breaking. “All while staving off the worst the Creatures of the Dark can throw at us. I haven’t had time to earn any money. Or figure out how to pay back my friends, let alone shoulder an extra fee for this damned tournament!”

  “Dame Chrissie–” Herald tried to interject, but in my emotional turmoil I talked right over him.

  “And I’ll let the court and the debt collectors pursue me before I marry Lord Alvey for the funds! It’s just…” I took a breath as I felt my strength leave me. It was all I could do not to burst into tears. “I’m done for. I’m out of clever ideas. I feel so alone in all this.”

  This time, Herald waited until I’d run out of steam before he spoke again.

  “Dame Chrissie…if I may, I have an observation to make,” he began. “I noticed that one of the royal pages has followed you quite loyally, so I spoke to him about it. Percival told me that you helped him through a great difficulty with his fellow pages, who now treat him with respect. Though it was difficult, I also conversed with some members of Parliament. The owls said that you not only rescued their Albess, but you showed great compassion to Xandra, one of their members. Specifically, when she lost one of their chicks.”

  I nodded wearily. The Lord of the Pursuivant continued.

  “In sum, this tallies with my personal observation that you have a gift for helping others, usually by correctly diagnosing their problems and applying remedies.”

  “I…I guess that would be reasonable.”

  “If so, then I have drawn a conclusion,” Herald noted. “I believe that, while you have spent a great deal of time helping others, you have not taken the time to turn that analysis on yourself.”

  I considered that. I thought I had pretty much worked through any guilt over the fayleene that my dad murdered. Perhaps I was still working through not being there in time for Hollyhock or Perrin.

  “Maybe you have a point,” I admitted. “I just don’t know what ‘problem’ of mine I’m supposed to fix.”

  “My experience has shown me that one must discover it for himself. Or ‘herself’, as the case might be. But perhaps I can offer a clue?”

  I let out a long-suffering sigh. “Enough riddles for today, Herald. It’s been tough enough doing this all alone.”

  “All alone? What an interesting observation.”

  “Interesting? What do you–”

  This time, he interrupted me.

  “I will pay your levy, Dame Chrissie,” he stated. “My salary as Lord of the Pursuivant is hardly a lavish one, but I have enough coin to cover your expenses.”

  I looked at him, equally surprised and grateful. “You will? But…I’m not sure when…”

  He shrugged. “Should you deem my services worthy, you may pay me back whenever you are able. Which shall be soon enough.”

  “Thank you, Herald,” I said, still feeling stunned by this turn of fortune. “But how can you be so confident? In my ability to pay you back, I mean?”

  He smiled. “Why, because you are Dame Chrissie.”

  “That’s…not much of an answer.”

  “But it is the correct one. You see, as the Lord of the Pursuivant, it is my sworn task to know as much as possible about all the lords and knights in the kingdom. I have compiled everything available that there is to know about you since your investiture, Dame Chrissie. And at the end of the day? I feel that you are a good bet.”

  Herald bowed and left, leaving me with the first bit of hope that I’d felt all day.

  It glowed inside my chest like the last ember from a blazing fire.

  And it felt darned good.

  Chapter Twelve

  I took advantage of my sudden better-than-awful mood to head downstairs and try out my brand-new bedroom. The stonemasons had finished carving an entryway in the floor towards the rear of the tower room. Then they’d installed a reasonably wide stone stairway down to the next level. It looked charming, though the lack of a bannister would’ve been an invitation to a lawsuit back in Los Angeles.

  Again, thanks to Herald’s efforts, I’d acquired a set of hand-me-down royal furniture to make up my bedroom. I’d yet to try out the bed itself, but at least I could store extra changes of clothes in the wardrobe. Savoring the cedar smell the wardrobe imparted to my clothes, I swapped out my Andeluvian wear for my conventional jeans-and-jacket attire. I made my way back upstairs just as I heard an angry rapping or scratching at my demesne’s entry.

  The door burst open to admit the stern face of an eagle-headed griffin. Grimshaw padded in, his golden leonine tail thrashing back and forth like an agitated tabby cat. With a sulky grunt, he threw himself down on one of the freshly beaten rugs in front of the hearth.

  “Shaw,” I said, trying to keep an upbeat tone in my voice. “Are you all right? You look like you’re feeling sad.”

  The drake’s beak snapped in annoyance.

  “Sad? ‘Tis annoyance, nay, abject depression that gnaws at me!” Shaw rubbed the top of his head, ruffling the fe
athers there. “No matter the glorious nature of mine own cause, all I try to do returns to bite my tail!”

  “I can sympathize, believe me. But is it really that bad?”

  “‘Tis so, Dayna. ‘Twas I that was sent to ask yet again for more griffin warriors to defend Andeluvia. High Elder Belladonna bade me leave with empty paws, and in words that singed my fur.” Shaw got up, turned around in a tight circle, and flopped down again on the rug. “Upon my return and report, King Fitzwilliam berated me for my efforts, as if I were but a fledgling!”

  I sat down and reached out to quite literally smooth his ruffled feathers. “You were put in a hard place. Belladonna and Fitzwilliam are both used to getting their way, and they want to protect their people at all costs.”

  “Thy reasoning may be right. Yet I feel very much like a prey animal. One that has been placed betwixt two hungry reeves, each with a nest of chicks to feed.” He sighed under the touch of my hand, adding, “I offered to resign my position if his Majesty was unhappy with mine own service to him.”

  I paused in my smoothing of Shaw’s head. The last thing I wanted was for him to be on the outs with Fitzwilliam. The griffin took his service extremely seriously, so much so that he preferred death over being retired due to age. I didn’t even want to think about what a royal dismissal might do to the drake.

  “What did the King say, Shaw?” I asked anxiously.

  “Thy monarch refused my offer,” he said, as he continued to relax under my touch. “Then he apologized for his outburst, saying that his words were meant for the bony, feather-brained head of the High Elder. His Majesty thundered on about how something had to wake Belladonna to the oncoming danger. Then he asked me at beak point: ‘Twould there be any chance of changing the High Elder’s mind? I said ‘nay’.”

  “I take it that Fitzwilliam didn’t like that.”

  “‘Twas not a scene for the faint of heart! But what I said next really cracked the shell open. King Fitzwilliam asked me ‘why not’, and I had to tell him the truth. On my last visit, Belladonna got wind of the news here.”