The Unexpected Demon

by Simon Waldock

  "My lord wizard, you rescued me from the clutches of Duchess Renilla," she announced in a voice doubtless intended to be thrilling. It wasn't very. "Is there anything I can do for you in return."

  As she said this she looked up at me through her eyelashes. As she rose, I moved my gaze up and down her in a bored manner.

  "I don't know. Is there anything you can do?" I asked.

  This flummoxed her for a moment.

  "Judging by your previous performance you aren't very skilled at magic. How good are you at cooking and cleaning?" I enquired.

  "My lord wizard, I am of the nobility. That is work for servants," she said, in annoyance.

  "Chessina here performs such tasks as befits my apprentice and does them well. She is also adept at magic. You are of no use to me," I said in a dismissive tone.

  "Besides, I'm better looking than you are, and I understand the politics of dress," said Chessina smugly. "He's mine. I'm keeping him so go away."

  Arm in arm we turned, leaving this young woman, who never did tell us her name, fuming.

  Later that evening I saw Chessina turn suddenly white.

  "What is it, love," I asked, anxiously.

  "That girl, over there. She looks just like me," Chessina answered, shaken.

  I steered Chessina, supporting her a little, to Dragovar.

  "Dragovar, who's that girl, the petite dark haired one in rose over there. She looks very like Chessina," I said to Dragovar, indicating the girl in question.

  "That's Miss Elinne Brockwyn, old Sir Tasseder's daughter, they don't come to court often," answered Dragovar. "By the gods, you are right, that girl could be Chessina's sister."

  Dragovar led us over to the young lady, who was dressed in a gown of very similar colour to the one Chessina was wearing, but much less figure hugging.

  "Towermaster, may I introduce you to Miss Elinne Brockwyn, Miss Elinne Brockwyn may I introduce you to Towermaster Castamir and his apprentice Chessina," Dragovar said.

  "How do you do, Towermaster, appren . . . Oh," Miss Brockwyn stopped abruptly. "I'm sorry apprentice Chessina. I . . . I was startled, you look exactly like the portrait of Shareen my great aunt. She disappeared many years ago."

  At this point, Chessina's arm was grabbed by a tall, wiry man of late middle age, with white hair.

  "You minx," he said, "if I'd known you intended wearing such a brazen dress, I never have let you come . . . Oh."

  The man stopped in mid speech. I don't know whether that was because he was looking at two very similar girls, or if it was Chessina's knife at his throat, but he stopped.

  "Sir Tasseder, let me introduce you to Chessina, Towermaster Castamir's apprentice," Dragovar said in his most urbane tones, "Chessina, please put that knife away."

  Chapter 14

  "I'll put my knife away Dragovar, just as soon as this . . . person, apologises for miscalling my honour," Chessina said, tightly. “I'm fully capable of defending it."

  Sir Tasseder kept very still and looked at Chessina's set face.

  Dragovar was apparently quite unconcerned about Chessina's actions. But then the knife wasn't at his throat.

  "I . . . I apologise completely, apprentice Chessina," Sir Tasseder said, sounding rather strained. “I thought you were my daughter, and I'd not wish her to be wearing . . ."

  He trailed off, obviously realising that if he continued, he might insult Chessina further. Never a good idea when someone has a knife at your throat.

  "Chessina, please put the knife away," I said. “The man made an honest mistake and Countess Lecia would never forgive us if you got blood on her carpet."

  "Very well, master," Chessina almost hissed.

  She put her knife away and contented herself with only looking daggers at Sir Tasseder.

  "Sir Tasseder has rather . . . strait-laced ideas about the behaviour of his daughter," said Dragovar.

  "And at that, perhaps better strait-laced than the behaviour of Duchess Renilla's . . . coterie," said Chessina, with a demure smile at Sir Tasseder.

  "Once again I apologise, apprentice Chessina," said Sir Tasseder, bowing to her, "it was unworthy of me to lay hands on you."

  "Perhaps if we all withdrew to . . . regain our equanimity," I said diplomatically. Me being diplomatic, I must be catching it from Dragovar, "and arrange a private meeting to discuss this. We have a lot to talk about."

  oOo

  Chessina was still jumpy at breakfast, despite my best efforts to distract her last night.

  "Do you think that I'm this, Shareen person Castamir?" she asked plaintively.

  "I don't know, but I do think it's possible," I replied.

  "Castamir, will you still love me if I am her?" Asked Chessina, with more angst than grammar.

  "Of course, why wouldn't I, your personality won't change, and it's that, that I love," I said firmly.

  Chessina relaxed visibly and started to eat breakfast.

  oOo

  We had arranged to meet in Dragovar's sitting room. Elinne and her father Sir Tasseder, were ushered in at the appointed time by one of Dragovar's servants. After tea had been brought, Dragovar gestured, and the doors and windows were outlined with a violet glow.

  "We will not be overheard," He assured us all.

  I intended to take charge of this meeting from the outset. Chessina was mine, and my responsibility. I wasn't about to let Sir Tasseder hurt her or feel that he had any control over her.

  "To begin with," I said, "I know that Chessina is under a curse and that she has no recollection of her early life. Perhaps, Sir Tasseder, you would tell us about Shareen and what happened to her."

  "Shareen was my aunt, youngest child of my grandparents and only six years older than I," Tasseder began. “My family were landowners and only nominally of the gentry. My grandfather was a merchant venturer, and so was my father, his oldest son. My family was a large one, with many uncles, aunts and cousins in various degrees, and prosperous at that time. Shareen was a bright and merry girl and she often looked after myself and other young children, although I recall that there was always a maid nearby to assist. She played with us and I mostly remember her joyous laugh. Then, one day when I was, I think, eight years old, on Shareen's birthday, she disappeared. Grandfather had sent a messenger to ask if Shareen had come to have breakfast with us, as she sometimes did, before playing with us. No-one had seen her. Messengers were sent to other members of the family and to the families of her friends. No-one had seen her. My grandparent's servants were questioned but no-one remembered seeing her leave the house. Her bed had been slept in, but only day clothes were missing. The house was searched from top to bottom, including the outbuildings and the well. There was no trace of her. Rewards were posted for any information, but the only responses turned out to be either mistaken or fraudulent. My grandfather paid for priests to cast spells to determine their veracity. The priests also cast spells to contact the dead, but to no avail."

  Tasseder paused, staring into nothing for a moment, then he continued.

  "The family were devastated, of course," said Tasseder. "My uncle Agravar, Shareen's favourite sibling was beside himself with grief when he returned and discovered Shareen missing. He cast every spell he could think of, but without result. My grandmother's health deteriorated, the doctors and even the priests could do nothing and she died a few months later. My grandfather's mind was affected and he took to wandering afield trying to find any trace of Shareen. He went missing one winter's day, his frozen body was found a week later. Agravar became a recluse, burying himself in his magical studies and swearing that he would discover Shareen's fate come what may. Indeed, we think that is why he became involved in demonology."

  "Demonology!" both Dragovar and I yelped.

  "Yes, I thought you knew," said Tasseder. “I was knighted for my bravery in dealing with a demon that my uncle Agravar summoned. Presumably something went wrong and the demon killed him. I had been taking warrior training, as I wanted to be able to deal with the s
ort of person who abducted innocents. I was able to kill the demon eventually but it killed many people and the property damage was enormous. The compensation payments all but bankrupted the family."

  "I don't know about you, Dragovar," I said, "but I smell a rat."

  "Indeed, and so do I," agreed Dragovar.

  "I don't understand?" said Tasseder.

  "Shareen had gone to bed, but then got up and dressed in day clothes," I said. “Either she was charmed, which indicates a user of magic, or she did this of her own volition. From your description of Shareen Sir Tasseder, I think it unlikely she was going to a clandestine assignation. Therefore, someone asked her to get up in the middle of the night, and it had to be someone she trusted. No servant saw her leave the house. It is a simple use of the maestra aspect to make someone forget something. Again indicating a user of magic."

  "Are you saying that . . ." Sir Tasseder began.

  I interrupted him.

  "At the moment I am merely constructing a chain of reasoning," I said. "Let us see where it leads us. Shareen was asked to get up by someone she trusted, someone who was almost certainly a user of magic. Hold that thought. Now, let us consider demonology. It is not a magical discipline that can be learnt overnight, nor is it one that is taught by respectable schools of wizardry. Information on the subject is suppressed but other planar creatures including demons are mentioned in wizarding studies. By inference, it can be deduced that some kind of sacrifice of life energy will aid in summoning creatures of the lower planes. What kind of creature has the greatest amount of life energy? A nubile female virgin. So now we have a nubile female virgin who trusts implicitly a user of magic. I now do name your uncle Agravar as the most likely suspect in Shareen's disappearance. Incidentally to affect the mind of someone already crushed by grief, pushing them to melancholia and madness is, for a user of magic, not difficult. Sapping the life force of someone who’s related to a sacrificial victim whose blood has been harvested is quite possible. Wizards study some alchemy as part of their training, and knowledge of poisons is part of it. From knowledge of poisons to making poisons is but a step. If a priest was attempting to cure disease but the patient was being poisoned, their spells would be useless, as they would be against the sapping of life force. A demonologist would have access to demonic ichors and be able to concoct poisons that would be completely unknown to almost all of the medical profession. I admit this is all circumstantial, but what do you think Sir Tasseder?"

  Sir Tasseder and his daughter Elinne listened to me with expressions of mounting horror.

  "I do not think your uncle Agravar became a demonologist subsequent to the disappearance of Shareen," I said. "I think he already was, and was the cause of her disappearance."

  "But why?" asked Sir Tasseder incredulously. “Why would Agravar sacrifice a sister who loved him, idolised him?"

  "Power," I replied simply. "Wizardry takes many years to learn, still more to become powerful. The defining characteristic of a demonologist is their monstrous ego, they do not just desire power, they feel that they deserve it. A wizard learns to manipulate the power within, by the grace of Arcana. For those who desire power quickly, a shortcut is available. One can utilise the power of other beings of power, and thus can find demonology attractive. Summoning beings of great power is difficult and dangerous, but using a sacrifice, particularly a virgin sacrifice one can take a shortcut. A shortcut within a shortcut as you might say."

  "Agravar was still taking a great risk," mused Dragovar, "what did he expect from it?"

  "A pact, a demonic pact," Chessina responded. “A demon would promise a great deal in exchange for a virgin sacrifice, whether or not they would deliver is a different matter."

  "What would the pact entail?" asked Dragovar.

  "Depends on the demon," Chessina replied, shrugging her shoulders. “A sensible person would get something in writing, but who said demonologists are sensible. Was any such thing found among Agravar's effects?"

  "Not to my knowledge," replied Tasseder.

  "Then either it was missed or, more likely, was destroyed by the demon that killed Agravar," said Dragovar."

  "I wonder where Agravar conducted the sacrifice?" I pondered. “I find it difficult to believe that he would have done it in his own house."

  "It would be done, if possible at a place of power," said Chessina. “Is there an old stone circle or an abandoned temple nearby?"

  "Yes, the old temple in the wood," answered Sir Tasseder. “It's not far from my grandparents' house."

  "If Chessina is great-aunt Shareen, what curse was put on her, and can it be cured?" Burst out Elinne.

  "Probably, I'm not certain and I hope so," I replied. "Not the most definitive answers, but the best I can do at the moment I'm afraid."

  "I think at this point it might be best, Sir Tasseder, if you and your daughter Elinne withdraw," said Dragovar.

  "A wizards’ only discussion?" remarked Elinne with some asperity.

  "We need to talk about many things that you would not understand, and some that you would not want to understand," I replied.

  oOo

  "Dragovar, now that Sir Tasseder and Elinne have gone, I need to ask Chessina something very important," I said, "would you excuse us while we go into another room."

  "I'll leave you two alone and go and arrange more tea," said Dragovar and left us.

  I cupped Chessina's chin in my hand, tilted up her face and looked into her eyes.

  "Before we go any further, Chessina, I need to know if you wish to try to regain your soul, if it is even possible," I said earnestly. "You would become mortal, you would lose your demonic powers, you would age and die."

  "Castamir," said Chessina, gently touching my arm, "if as a demon I am killed on what is technically my home plane, I cease to exist. If I have a soul, when I die I will be with Our Lady of Mysteries, and I will be with you forever. What other choice do you think I would make?"

  I bent down my head and kissed Chessina. I do not know how long that kiss lasted, but I became aware of the fragrant scent of tea. I opened my eyes and saw Dragovar seated comfortably and making notes on a piece of parchment.

  "Ah, good. Back with us I see," said Dragovar somewhat sarcastically. "All sorted?"

  "Yes. I have decided that I want to try to regain my soul," replied Chessina emphatically. “I realise the implications of this and it is what I want to do."

  "Good. I'm sure Castamir explained the implications most tediously . . . thoroughly," said Dragovar, eyes twinkling. I never thought he could have it in him.

  oOo

  We spent the next several hours discussing what might have happened at the abandoned temple, what could have happened there and what couldn't. Also, what we might do about it, and what preparations we needed to make. As the discussion was winding down, Dragovar looked at Chessina.

  "You will need to decide, Chessina," he said, "whether you will accept Tasseder and Elinne as relatives."

  "I think so, provided that Tasseder recognises that I am his aunt, not an extra daughter on whom he can impose his ideas of dress and behaviour," said Chessina, firmly. “Besides it would be appropriate for him to give me away."

  "I . . . ah, yes it would," I said, feeling slightly startled. Plainly she had been researching marriage customs since becoming aware of it. However, I already knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, marriage would be merely a public acknowledgement of the fact.

  "Having a relative married to the Wizard of the Tower would be a feather in the cap of Sir Tasseder," remarked Dragovar. “I will ask the king to excuse us attendance at the function this evening, so we may prepare properly."

  "We need to let Tasseder and Elinne know what they may say about this and what they may not," I said. "To acknowledge a long-lost relative is one thing, the reappearance of a vanished aunt who is unaged after several decades is another."

  Dragovar nodded in agreement, then sat a moment in thought.

  "While I reme
mber, I think I will transform Renilla into an ass this evening, so as not to waste a spell on the morrow," he said. "She can’t then cause any trouble while we are gone. We can move her to Fair Pastures later. An ass would be of more benefit to a village, than the Royal Court. Besides, we have enough asses here already."

  Chapter 15

  Early next morning Chessina and I were on our rug of travel flying towards Sir Tasseder's home town of Braidfleet, while Sir Tasseder and his daughter Elinne were flying with Dragovar on his rug. The abandoned temple seemed well worth investigating, although we were going to go Sir Tasseder's home first to see if any of Agravar's papers remained. As we flew I noticed that most of the blossom of the flowering trees had gone, the seasons further advanced this far south of the tower. The journey took many hours, although it was not as long as from our tower to the capital. We intended to fly southeast to find the river Braid and then follow it to the sea, Braidfleet being on the estuary. The river Braid was visible several miles away being wide. Having found it we followed its general course rather than the river itself. The river snaked through the landscape showing the true extent of its many reed-beds. Unsurprisingly the settlements we saw were all thatched. After many hours Braidfleet came in sight, the bright sparkle of the estuary broken here and there by sandbanks. The major part of the town now squatted sullenly, perhaps a quarter of a mile from the river. Only a straggled row of fisherman's cottages inhabited the bank, and I could see the masts of fishing boats out to sea. The buildings were brick-built in the main, some larger buildings being made from stone which shone golden in the sun.

  "Master?" said Chessina, looking down towards the town in puzzlement. “Why did they build the town away from the river?"

  "They didn't, the river silted up and changed its course," I explained. "Slow running rivers, and the many reed-beds show it's slow, are usually silty and prone to change course. And the estuary has become silted too."