Trafficking in Demons

by Michael Angel

  “The news? What news?”

  “Of the upcoming Spring Tournament. So, I told thy liege what the High Elder said. ‘If the ruler of the humans has time for those fripperies, he does not need my warriors.’ Upon hearing this, Fitzwilliam waxed wroth like a thunderstorm and told me to leave before he said something he would regret later.” Shaw hung his head sadly. “At times I must speak with myself and ask why I even bother with my duties.”

  A pair of heavy knocks at the door, followed by the clopping of hooves, preceded the entrance of the chestnut-bodied Court Wizard. The sangria colored jacket covering Galen’s human torso looked freshly pressed, light gleaming off the jacket’s freshly polished silver buttons. Yet while his clothes looked natty, the word I would have used to describe his expression was ‘crestfallen’.

  “Thou dost look as sad as I feel, Wizard,” Shaw said.

  Galen held up his fist. Clenched in it was a single loosely-wrapped scroll, now all but crushed in the centaur’s mighty grip. His voice was a study in woe.

  “Then you must feel absolutely, positively wretched,” Galen stated bitterly. “Myself, perchance I would call myself gloomy. Or despondent would be more precise. It does not seem to matter a jot to those in power how much I labor, all I do comes to naught!”

  “I feel for thee, Wizard, I do.”

  “What with all that I have done to improve the lot of both centaur and human, one would think that a humble servant such as myself would get some credit!” Galen fumed, as he stamped his forehooves. “On days like today, I must inquire of myself: Why even bother to charge up my magic?”

  Oh, this is just great, I thought. This whole pity party is starting to feel like the opening chapters of a Russian novel.

  “Just a minute,” I said. “Galen, at least tell us what’s the matter!”

  “It is the thrice-damned Deliberation of Wizards!” he fumed, as he shook his hand again.

  “The thrice-damned what?”

  “The Deliberation of Wizards! More colloquially, the ‘Deliberati’.”

  “And they are…?”

  The wizard let out a snort that would have done a draft horse justice. After a moment he seemed to calm down an iota or two. He took a deep breath.

  “The Deliberation is a council, in a sense,” Galen stated. “It comprises the most senior wizards in all of Andeluvia.”

  “Aye, thou speakest of a body like the Council of Elders from mine own aerie,” Grimshaw put in, with a twitch of his tail.

  “As I said previously, ‘in a sense’. Wizards are by nature more…well, as I have heard Dayna put it, ‘free-wheeling’. The Deliberati cannot pass laws or collect taxes the way a governmental body can. Rather, they bestow titles and ranks as befitting one’s accomplishments.”

  I snapped my fingers. “They’re more like a licensing board, then. Or an awards committee.”

  “Mayhap. Yet if so, then I suppose I should take scant comfort in the fact that they did not leave me without hope.”

  “Hope for what?”

  “Re-application. As of today, they have ‘regretfully and with great contrition’ decided to deny bestowing the rank of Archmage upon me.”

  “Despite your performance of Archmage-level magic?” I asked, shocked. “I was there when you transformed your form to match that of a human. And let’s not forget the time when you changed me into a fayleene for the day!”

  “I suppose that is an accurate summation.” Galen sounded at least slightly mollified. “And yet my frustration stems from one specific source. I thought that my latest project, one which could protect all who love the land of Andeluvia, would have been enough for my nomination to be accepted.”

  Suddenly I understood. He was talking about Fitzwilliam’s project, one which had taken up the better part of several months.

  “That secret undertaking for the King,” I said, and Shaw nodded agreement. “That’s what you mean, isn’t it?”

  “I thought that at least they might recognize it for the accomplishment and attention to critical detail.” Galen looked down almost absently at the scroll his fist had turned to pulp. “But I shall endeavor to accept my lack of fortune for now. I had originally planned to give this message to you and was only sidetracked by the poor judgement of the Deliberati.”

  I took the scroll, doing my best to unroll it. I soon found that, between the crumpling and the sweat from Galen’s hands, it was hard to read. Luckily, Galen came to my aid.

  “If I may, I had already read the contents,” he said. “It was addressed from King Magnus to both of us. Perchance I should have waited to open it in your presence, but given the nature of the question we had posed to him, I felt it necessary to–”

  “Yes, yes, what did Magnus say?” I broke in, frustrated by the centaur’s customary long-windedness.

  “In sum, he said ‘no’ to our request,” Galen intoned, with a final, muffled clop of a hind hoof against one of the room’s rugs. “And there is more.”

  “Great. What else?”

  The wizard gave me a curious look. “King Magnus has expressly forbidden you, upon pain of death, to enter the Centaur Realms ever again.”

  Congrats, Dayna, a voice in my head said, in a mocking tone. Looks like you’ve been elected Miss Popularity today!

  Once you included the Reykajar griffin aerie, that made it two whole kingdoms I was banished from.

  Chapter Thirteen

  King Magnus has expressly forbidden you, upon pain of death, to enter the Centaur Realms ever again.

  I could have kicked myself. Of. Course. After all, I’d only liberated him from magical imprisonment and given him the one thing in life that he’d always wanted. That was gratitude for you. And the worst part was, I didn’t get any from the Andeluvian court, so why should I have expected any better out of the new centaur ruler?

  But before my worst suspicions went any further, I mentally commanded them to stop.

  I knew and trusted Magnus well enough to let him out in the first place. He’d kept his word flawlessly so far, so I didn’t see him turning on me.

  “Okay,” I said. I felt my face flush with the effort of controlling my emotions. “I guess I have to ask the obvious question. Why did Magnus decide to banish me?”

  “Aye, this drake would like to know as well,” Grimshaw growled.

  The drake in question absently stropped one set of talons across the floor, which didn’t exactly do the rug any favors. Shaw had accepted the deal I’d made with Magnus Killsheven, once he’d learned about it. But he didn’t like it, and I couldn’t blame him. The wizard had put a bullet in his wing, for starters.

  “I did chance to speak with the new King in some depth before our return. I must admit, this development does not surprise me. Recall that Magnus’ ascent to power came at a steep price for the House of Friesain. And an especially steep price for House Zakaris.”

  I nodded. That was true enough. Magnus had singlehandedly turned the battle at the Oxine, but only after the death of Galen’s father and the slaughter of hundreds of Zakaris warriors that had been ‘hosted’ by the Ultari. It would be a steep challenge to pull together a kingdom after that amount of bloodshed.

  “To his credit,” Galen continued, “he is managing to keep the Third House in the centaur fold, even after the deaths of so many of their warriors. Yet still, emotions are running high. Many in the Centaur Realm have decided to assign the blame to you.”

  “To me?” I asked, my voice cracking on the last word.

  “Alas, it is so. There are centaurs who feel that the demons that erupted from the ruins at Keshali would have remained quiescent had Dayna not stirred them into activity. And for that reason, they have demanded that no one ever visit the ruins again. Both Magnus and I have spoken out against these assertions, but it retains a hold amongst many. Though I am abashed at this development, it is unfortunately quite understandable in light of the circumstances.”

  “Understandable?” Grimshaw objected. His growl deepened as
his ire rose. “Hast thou taken leave of thy senses, Wizard? Dayna wouldst never have gone to Keshali had it not been for the traitorous Lord Caltrop!”

  “Wait a minute, Shaw. I think I see what Galen’s getting at,” I said, resting my palm flat upon the drake’s head. His growl subsided, but I could still feel it rumbling through his skull and into the bones of my hand. “It’s difficult for anyone to admit to a failure. And in the case of close family – or a blood relative – it would be even more difficult. Blaming me, an outsider, prevents them from placing it among their own. They don’t want to further blacken the reputation of Lord Caltrop, as he was the leading scion of the House of Zakaris. It also prevents the centaurs from placing blame on Angbor’s children.”

  “Sadly, you have struck in the gold,” Galen sighed. “In short, banning you from the Realm helps Magnus win support among the centaur House that is most estranged. It also keeps you away from the wrath of any aggrieved centaur within his Kingdom.”

  “True. From what you say, I wouldn’t be safe at any of the holts without an escort.”

  “Your banishment shall likely not be permanent in nature,” the wizard added encouragingly. “There is a postscript to this scroll I also need to convey.”

  “All right,” I agreed. “Let’s hear it.”

  “King Magnus conveyed his sincere apologies, and notes that he has not forgotten your assistance in achieving his lifelong ambition. He thereby extends to you the same boon as my father – that whatever assistance you request, he shall grant it. With the caveat that you shall not ask for an overturning of your banishment at this time.”

  Shaw harrumphed, but he sounded satisfied. “‘Tis as good an apology as can be offered. Perhaps Dayna shall not need me to trounce this centaur upstart a second time.”

  “Passions run high and hot amongst my kind,” the Wizard added. “But they do subside once they have run their course. Surely within a couple of seasons, the issue could be reopened.”

  “That’s all very well and good,” I allowed. “But it does throw a monkey wrench into one of our plans.”

  Shaw turned his head and gave me a curious look. “Thy people fashion monkeys into wrenches?”

  “I sincerely doubt that,” Galen corrected him. “Dayna undoubtedly means that monkeys in her world use simple hand tools.”

  “No, that’s not what–” I began, before I did a double take. “You have monkeys in this world?”

  “Most assuredly,” the Wizard answered. “My understanding is that they live on the southern side of the Weatherglass Sea. On occasion, merchants coming into port at Castle Ivor or in the nation of Kescar will sell one to a rich lord, or a travelling mummer’s group.”

  “Right. Well, in my world, the expression just means that something has been fouled up. Badly.”

  “Ah. In that case, you must refer to our planned expedition to return to Keshali.”

  “Of course I should accompany thee,” Shaw declared. “Yet any chance to die gloriously there has surely long passed by now. And surely thou must remember the awful stench of the place!”

  “The stench will have dissipated somewhat by now,” I said. “But battle wasn’t on my mind. I wanted information. There’s too many mysteries surrounding us right now, and a lot of them run straight through Keshali. Where did the wyverns come from? Why were they slaughtered there? Who killed them, and why?”

  “And perhaps we could learn how Bonecarver came to be there,” Galen put in. “How he arose from dormancy, and what work he did with Sirrahon prior to our arrival.”

  I nodded agreement. I was certain Sirrahon had been busy reviving his allies. The dragon-sized talon marks on the stones and pedestals in Keshali told me the ancient stone dragon had located the stones in which the Creatures of Light sealed his allies. He’d carved the columns and brought the stones there.

  “Doing a field autopsy would at least give us more clues,” I said. “And a thorough exploration of that ruined city might have provided even more answers. Why is that city a near-twin to this one? Who built it, and why did they abandon it to the wyverns?”

  It was even more frustrating when I spelled everything out. While I understood the demands Magnus had to accept from his people, and could even understand the ban on allowing any more expeditions to Keshali, it didn’t make me feel any better. An awful lot of mysteries were going to have to wait a while longer before they could be solved. Of course, I already had a double-helping of mysteries on my plate.

  The worst thing? All of it might prove to be too much for me to handle.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The door to my tower room swung open yet again with a rap of antlers against wood. Liam trotted through, and the little girl part of me couldn’t help but have a little flutter inside. When I’d first met Liam, he had reminded me more than a little of Bambi.

  Now that he’d become the Protector of the Forest, he resembled Bambi’s father more than anything. Liam had pretty much grown out of the ‘cute’ stage. I still doubted I would ever cease to find the fayleene adorable.

  However, the curse that came out of his little cervine mouth was anything but.

  “May the Lead Does’ antlers snap off and their fur fall out!” Liam fumed. “This situation I find myself in is dreadful, just dreadful.”

  “You sound dejected,” Galen observed. “Are you feeling all right, my cervine friend?”

  “Dejected sounds about right. Added to despondent, miserable, and frustrated!”

  “Thou hast come to the right place,” Shaw muttered, as Liam joined us. “What’s wrong?”

  Liam shook his head as if to clear it, swinging his razor-sharp antlers in a short arc.

  “I just returned from the Grove of the Willows,” he said. “From the last training session I held for my Rangers.”

  “Did things go badly?”

  “No, they went fine! Do you recall meeting Ardan, the first fayleene I bestowed the title of ‘Ranger’ upon?”

  It took me a moment, but I remembered when I’d met Ardan. It was when Shaw and I had traveled out to Sir Talish’s lands in the Western Reaches. At the time, we’d been looking for evidence supporting Albess Thea’s reported death.

  “Yes, that name sounds familiar,” I said. “He was more heavy-set than you, with a chest full of rust-red fur.”

  “That’s the stag. He’s come a long way, learning both magic and woodcraft. Far enough to be designated my second, the Regent Protector, when I am away from the wood.”

  “You are being remarkably trusting for one in your position,” Galen remarked. “It’s unclear to me if centaurs or griffins would be as giving with their power. Certainly, the humans would find such behavior close to insanity, or at least extreme foolishness.”

  “I am trusting for two reasons,” Liam explained. “In the first place, my mind is magically connected to Ardan’s. I will know if he, for example, decides to mate with any of the Lead Does without my leave.”

  “And the second?”

  Liam made a deer-like shrug. “If he so desires my position, then he knows that I will surrender it without a fight. He can be the expendable stag whom the Lead Does send into battle on their behest.”

  “If your training regimen is completed, then where is the cause for complaint?”

  “My complaint is not with the Rangers. Rather, it is with the Lead Does. They’re practically in open rebellion over their Protector leaving the Forest for any length of time.” Liam began to pace, cloven hooves making little ‘clicks’ or ‘thuds’ depending on whether he crossed rug or bare stone floor. “They had reasons before, granted. The forest surrounding the Grove of the Willows is smaller than our old home, and there were many more humans lurking near the eaves of the forest than up by the Fayleene Woods. But the problems we had with encroachment have vanished since the Battle of the Oxine.”

  That wasn’t surprising to me. Right before the battle, the Ultari had all but wiped out the bands of brigands that had been threatening the Western Reaches
. Liam continued, looking even more agitated.

  “Now, they wish to keep me there to venerate and protect them. They all but threatened to imprison me, but I refuse to remain cooped up there.” He stamped his forehoof with determination. “There are bigger things at stake right now, things from eons past that threaten all of Andeluvia. So long as my true family needs my help, I will be there for each of you!”

  “Well spoken,” Galen murmured approvingly.

  Shaw thumped the floor with one lion’s paw. “Aye, ‘twas at that! Liam, I so swear that with thy leave, I shall personally consume any doe that dare cross thee!”

  Liam gave his friend a look of thoughtful surprise.

  “You know,” he remarked, “that’s the first time I’ve ever truly appreciated a griffin’s unique appetites.”

  “Just don’t develop a taste for Liam’s cervine companions,” I warned Shaw, but I said it with a smile on my face.

  We all shared a hearty laugh over that. The room felt all the warmer for it.

  Liam stopped his pacing as he spoke again. “Now that I have told my story, I must ask my own question. Why does everyone here look so down-in-the-mouth?”

  “It’s been a most interesting morning. Here, let me list the ways.” I began, ticking off on my fingers. “For starters, I just got banished from the Centaur Realm. Then there was yet another dispute over having me sit at court. Things got so heated that one of Fitzwilliam’s oldest Lords walked out on his liege. Oh, and I’m being forced into the role of ‘Primrose Princess’ or whatever for the upcoming Spring Tournament.”

  The Protector of the Forest simply stared at me. “And all this took place just this morning?”

  “I’m an overachiever. Shaw, on the other hand, is caught in an ongoing argument between Fitzwilliam and Belladonna over whether more griffins will be sent to aid Andeluvia.” The griffin let out a snort but declined to comment further. “And Galen’s application for the level of Archmage has been turned down by the Deliberati. Even though there should be no doubt his wizard’s spell was good enough to qualify.”