by Megan Derr
"Yes, exactly," Kohar said. "It's called a chain spell. My brother studies them, amongst other things. A demon is summoned and bound into a series of runes that have been chained together. So it's bound to the first one, and when that rune is used up or destroyed, it jumps to the next one, and so on until it comes to the end of the spell, or all the runes are otherwise destroyed." He turned to Nerek. "We have a rat. It takes a mage at least as good as I to summon a succubus, and I would know if another of my caliber was around. Someone here is depositing the spells on behalf of that mage."
"I was afraid of that," Nerek said with a sigh, rubbing one hand along the side of his chin, looking angry and tired but still somehow scruffily handsome.
Kohar wondered absently, for likely the millionth time, why the man rarely bothered to shave. One would think Nerek would enjoy something that involved a sharp knife, given how many of them he carried about his person.
"The men are allowed leave on a regular rotation; I'll check the logs and see who was in the last batch. We're likeliest to find our rat amongst them." He looked at his cousin. "Unless Solla is up to something, but he's still too asleep to be committing crimes."
For reply, Solla yawned. "I am up to murdering a large breakfast, but that's about it."
Kohar nodded. "By all means, seek out food; this is not your problem."
Smiling faintly, Solla nodded, gripped Nerek's shoulder, then left the barracks in search of food.
"Lazy bastard," Nerek muttered.
Ignoring the complaint because he knew damn good and well Nerek was just jealous Solla would get to enjoy food and rest, Kohar swatted Nerek's arm and made him focus. "Lists, you lummox, get the lists. Who was on leave? Who left? Who stayed? Who traded out?"
"It's against the rules to trade duty assignments without permission from me," Nerek said and sighed. "Which means at least ten of the bastards did it. Come on, we'll look'em all over." Bellowing a last few orders at the senior officers overseeing the removal of the bodies, he led the way to his office.
Inside, wonderful smells wafted over him. Kohar's stomach growled as he took in the food set out—simple bread and cheese and hot cider, but it looked a feast to him. Enough for two, so the cooks had known he'd be here. "See, you get food after all. No reason to be jealous of Solla."
Nerek's scowl just darkened as he strode across the room and started shuffling through papers on the table near his desk.
Kohar strode to the desk and stole Nerek's seat, pulling the platters close and helping himself. Picking up a mug of cider, he watched Nerek work. For all the man perpetually looked like a grizzled soldier who hadn't seen civilization in years, his office was always neater than a monk's cell and smelled of sweet incense.
"Here we are," he said after a few minutes, then yanked the hunk of bread out of Kohar's hand. He motioned to the papers as he picked up the second mug. "All good men. I cannot picture them as being responsible for something like this." He shook his head.
"It's always the one you least expect," Kohar murmured.
Nerek grunted. "True enough. Look at what a family of merchants and tavern owners produced." He smirked at Kohar.
Ignoring him, Kohar flipped through the lists. He knew most of the names. It was hard not to know them, being the only mage-in-residence and working closely with the soldiers. Sadness and anger washed through him. "Why would they do it?"
"The Countess is a damned pretty woman."
A flicker of annoyance passed through Kohar, though he couldn't say why. The Countess was pretty—beautiful, in fact. No one could understand why His Grace had turned her down at the last moment, and he had never seen fit to explain—not even to Kohar and Nerek.
"Maybe I should be examining you," he said sourly. "Did you fall beneath the wiles of the Countess, Captain?"
"I wouldn't kill my own men," Nerek said, voice cold.
Kohar winced. "I know. Sorry, it was an ill-thought jest."
Nerek glanced down at the lists and sighed. "To be fair, one of my men is responsible, so somebody couldn't resist the woman's tits."
"Were her tits that remarkable?" Kohar hadn't actually noticed. Women had never done anything for him. But he was fairly certain they did plenty for Nerek and His Grace.
"They were perfect. His Grace was an absolute fool to throw that away." He threw the papers down. "Speaking of which, you'd better go speak with him."
"About her tits?" Kohar muttered, annoyed all over again, though Regions if he knew why. What did he care if Nerek thought some angry woman's tits were perfect? At Nerek's glare, he heaved to his feet. "I'm going, I'm going." He ate the last of the bread and drained his cider. "Make certain you leave no detail out when questioning the men. If they are not guilty, perhaps they might have unwittingly spied some clue. Surely someone saw something last night or this morning that would help us."
"I know how to do my job. Stop fussing." Nerek reclaimed his seat and sent Kohar an admonishing look before he called for the aide waiting patiently in the hall.
Brushing crumbs from his robe, smoothing back a loose strand of hair, Kohar departed and made his way back to the main keep. Servants ran to and fro now, busily tending to the morning chores. The faintest threads of gray were beginning to lighten the sky, though it would not be true light for a little while yet, especially given the perpetual clouds this time of year. He stopped a passing maid who was carrying a heavy tray of food. "Is His Grace awake?"
"Yes, Master Kohar. I was just taking him breakfast."
"I'll take it. I need to speak with him, and it'll save you a trip up those stairs, eh?"
She beamed and handed it over. "Thank you, Master Kohar."
"You and the others can all leave off the 'Master' you know. I think we've been stuck together in this castle long enough."
She giggled, waggled her fingers in goodbye, and dashed off to see to the rest of her morning chores.
Kohar smiled briefly and then headed down the hall then up the enormous northern staircase, the tray balanced in one hand, a skill acquired from the years he'd spent working in his aunt's tavern.
Halfway down the hall that led to His Grace's private solar, however, the door to one of the spare bedrooms opened and Solla stepped out into the hall. Kohar smiled. "Did you manage to find breakfast, then?"'
"Of course," Solla said with a smile. His smiles were always so pretty. Unlike Nerek, who might have pretty smiles, but nobody would know because all the man did was scowl. "Did you have any luck so far with finding your culprit?"
"Not yet, but we've barely begun. Nerek is going through his men now to try and roust the rat," Kohar replied. "I am off to report to His Grace. I'm afraid you've come at a particularly bad time, between the murders, the demon committing them, and of course all this snow. How did you even reach us through all of it?"
Solla smiled again, but this time it was slow and burning, a bit of an unmistakable gleam in his eye. "I had the motivation." He stepped in closer, reaching out to curl his fingers around Kohar's wrist—and getting briefly distracted as he looked down and saw that Kohar's sleeve came all the way up to his knuckles, even looping over his thumb and one finger. Then he seemed to shake himself, and let go after a gentle, fleeting caress to the inside of Kohar's wrist. "Sorry, it just seems so clever. You're much warmer than I am in this drafty castle." That slow, hot smile again. "Anyway, I wanted to apologize for doubting you earlier. It just seems so unbelievable that there could be a real, actual demon running around. Do you think I could be in danger?"
"Best to assume so," Kohar replied, pleasure running through him at the apology. "Like we ordered all the soldiers and staff: scrub yourself thoroughly and be careful of being touched on bare skin by anyone."
Solla's smile widened into a mischievous grin. "I'll be sure to wash everything thoroughly."
"Um. Yes. Good idea." A tingle ran along Kohar's spine. If only he had time for Solla and his sudden, delightful interest. What had changed? Seeing Kohar in his bedrobe? Doubtful. "If you will excuse me for no
w, I do not want to keep His Grace waiting."
"By all means," Solla said, sketching a brief bow. "I will see you later, Kohar."
Indeed he would. Kohar forced himself to calm down as he continued on down the hall. After all this time, Solla was finally noticing him. Regions, he'd given up doing anything but admiring since Nerek had gleefully informed him that Solla had only ever expressed interest in women.
Maybe stupid Nerek didn't know his cousin as well as he thought.
Smiling faintly, helplessly thinking of all the fun they would have once this succubus problem was resolved, Kohar knocked lightly on His Grace's door and pushed it open as a bid to enter was called.
Bedros, the Duke of Rehm, was one hundred percent noble Volarian. Pale white skin, dark blue-gray eyes, ink-black hair still in its messy sleeping braid. Tall, broad in the chest and shoulders, and currently he wore only an old pair of leggings and a faded violet tunic. He'd tugged on light leather house boots, but that was all. He was beautiful—breathtaking—even if he unfortunately shared Nerek's tendency towards always looking rough and unkempt. Maybe they'd just conceded defeat to the inhospitable environment and were trying to mimic it, instead of doing constant battle to look civilized like Kohar.
Sitting at his table, Bedros motioned him forward and said, "I hear there is a succubus on my premises."
"I see the gossip mills are still functioning flawlessly," Kohar said dryly, setting the breakfast tray on the table near the fireplace. "Yes, Your Grace. Nerek and I are currently attempting to locate the culprit." He quickly explained what they knew; sadly, it took only a moment.
Grunting, Bedros began to eat, doing so quickly and neatly. "Tell me everything you know about succubi, Kohar."
Kohar frowned, brows drawing sharply down. "Not much, I'm afraid. Demons are specialized magic, and I pursued much more mundane paths."
"Mundane, yes, to write out delicate spellwork all day with a special license that took two decades of work to get," Bedros said, casting him an amused look over the rim of his cup.
"Well I certainly can't do anything as exciting as summoning murderous demons to slaughter unsuspecting soldiers who just wanted to masturbate in peace," Kohar replied, making Bedros choke on his cider. "Anyway, this is what I do know: They are part of a fornication class of demons, class one or two, I don't remember which. They feed on lust. They're non-corporeal demons, which means they have no physical form in the mortal world. They can interact with humans only via dreams, where they become what the victim most lusts after and drain their life energy away via fornication."
Bedros's brows furrowed. "I see. So are all my people in danger? Or solely those that, what, have a sexual interest in women? Do we know?"
"It doesn't really matter. Succubus is simply the term most people know, since men do love their tales of being helplessly seduced by a beautiful woman who wants to kill them."
"I wish I could say you were wrong," Bedros said, rolling his eyes. "So what's the right term?"
"It depends. Concubus is the one most often used by mages. Before we understood it enough to know it was genderfluid in nature, it was mistakenly believed to be two different beings–the succubus that preys on those who prefer women, and the incubus that preys on those who prefer men. And it could of course be either for those whose tastes are not so limited."
"Interesting," Bedros said. "You say it's only a class one or two? What could possibly rank above a demon that kills men and women with lust?"
"Trust me when I say you never want to find out."
"I believe you." Bedros drummed his fingers on the table. "Have I pissed off anyone besides the Countess in recent history?"
"If you did, I haven't heard of it," Kohar replied. "Certainly no one capable of this level of magic or with sufficient funds to hire someone who has it. This kind of magic would cost enough money even you would wince."
"I see," Bedros said. "I could be wrong, gods know I was wrong about plenty where Lady Greesom was concerned, but I never heard anything about her knowing magic, never mind being capable of summoning demons."
Kohar frowned. That had not occurred to him. They had leapt immediately to the Countess as the culprit but had not stopped to consider if she knew magic. "She very likely has at least a few mages-in-residence."
Bedros snorted. "Kohar, if I told you to summon a demon that would kill several people, all for the sake of petty revenge over a broken betrothal, what would you do?"
"Tell you to take yourself to the Regions," Kohar replied. "Your revenge isn't worth my life and livelihood." Even leaving aside the matter of his life, his skills and reputation were far too precious to throw away on someone else's wounded pride. "So if it is the Countess, then she is hiring a disreputable mage to do the summoning, who in turn had the sense, regrettably, to send someone else to do the actual casting. That explains a bit, but nothing terribly useful."
"This doesn't really seem her style, and I don't see why she'd get revenge via setting a succubus on my soldiers. That seems personal, and we were never that involved."
Kohar looked at him. "Her style. My I ask, Your Grace, why you severed the betrothal?" More dryly he added, "Nerek thinks you were a perfect fool to throw away such perfect tits."
"She did have lovely breasts—lovely everything, really, except for her willingness to do anything for power." Bedros sighed. "My reason is not that interesting, in the end, which is why I never bothered to say anything before. There's not really much to say. I used to be good friends with His Majesty before he abruptly found himself on the throne when the rest of his family was felled by that plague that went around several years ago. Power has not, shall we say, been good for him?"
"No, it has not," Kohar replied, mouth flattening. Their current king was a power-hungry cretin who would probably have the country going to full out war before the year was out, despite all the protestations of his council and people.
"There was a man neither of us liked much, who is frankly a bastard himself. His Majesty tried to make him take the fall for the crimes of one of his toadies. The penalty would have been execution. I saved him and forced the toady to answer for his own crimes. It is only because we are old friends that I was essentially exiled here instead of being executed myself—one way or another. Her Ladyship was a chance to redeem myself. Marry her, do what I was told, and I'd be welcomed back to the royal palace and friends with the king once more. I tried to go through with it but ultimately could not."
"I never realized." Kohar stared at him with newfound respect, though he'd already thought highly of a man who treated his servants with respect and always listened to what Kohar and Nerek said when advising him, instead of assuming his station meant he knew more than either of them. "I'm sorry."
Bedros waved the words aside. "The point is that you can see why I don't think the Countess is behind this. She was another tool, one more ambitious and malleable than I, but a tool all the same. She's likely already moved on to a more amenable pawn. Why waste gold and risk imprisonment over a marriage she doesn't actually care about?"
"Then who else?" Kohar asked. "Surely no one across the border would attempt this. As you say, it is a costly venture." He could feel the beginnings of a headache.
Bedros shrugged. "I don't know. Until we figure it out, we will focus our energies on fighting the demon." He looked up, dark brown eyes serious. "We will support you as best we can, of course, but it's magic we fight, so it's all on you." He smiled ruefully. "I suppose we had best see about finally hiring on some help for you."
"I will do my best, Your Grace. As to help, I get by just fine. It's not like there's usually much to do around here. I'll work as quickly as I can, but demons are well outside my purview, so it will take some research."
He received a dismissive wave. "Do whatever is necessary. But be certain to get dressed first, Kohar. I'm amazed you haven't frozen to death running around in nothing but that robe of yours. Never mind you must be distracting Nerek like crazy."
&nb
sp; Kohar rolled his eyes. "I think Nerek is a touch too busy to be mad about my lack of proper clothing. He doesn't tend to care what I wear on a good day."
Bedros quirked a brow at him but said nothing, merely returned to his breakfast and the pile of reports and missives regarding other matters in the keep and territory.
Dismissed, Kohar returned quickly to his own room. Clearly heeding the edict about washing, someone had left him a pitcher of hot water and cleaning rags. Stripping out of his robe, he quickly washed down, then pulled on fresh underclothes before unclipping his hair.
Picking up his comb, he began the process of untangling and combing his long, loose curls. Damn his father anyway; Kohar had wished all his life to possess his mother's perfectly straight hair. Thinking of his parents made him think of his younger brother, Taniel, who was all the family he had left now. His eldest sister, a traveler, had died climbing a mountain. Only a few years after that, the plague had taken their parents, remaining siblings, and all the relatives they cared about. A merchant company a century old and a tavern nearly as old, gone like that. His brother was a monk now, studying the sort of high level, esoteric magic Kohar had never cared about. A pity he was too far away; likely he'd know far more about demons than Kohar.
That reminded him he'd never gotten a chance to reply to Taniel's…
Taniel's letter. It couldn't be. Striding across the room, Kohar snatched it up and reread it again.
Dear Kohi,
I hope this letter reaches you in time. I am afraid that much has happened here at the monastery, but the short explanation is that I have made someone incredibly angry, and unfortunately he was able to escape custody. He has vowed revenge, and regrettably I told him all about you long before I realized his true nature.
Please be careful. I do not know what form his revenge will take, but I'm certain it will focus on you. I will be there as soon as I can, but I worry the weather will impede me. I beg of you, take this warning seriously and have utmost care. I do not want to lose you too.
Love,
