Demon's Throne

by K D Robertson

  Rys stepped into the circle, causing it to stop glowing. He grabbed her by the horns and yanked her toward him.

  “Ow, ow, ow, ow—stop, stop! That hurts,” she whined, tears welling in her eyes as she grabbed Rys’s hands.

  “The whole point of having a human form as a devil is that you blend in,” Rys growled. “And Calosceme knowledge devils are literally indistinguishable from young human women. Why would you waste that advantage?”

  “Because it makes me look different,” the devil wailed. “I work with ten other Caloscemes who look like my twin sisters. Please! If I get rid of the wings, can I stay? Please?”

  Rys let her go and she fell to her knees. Her face shot upward, puppy-dog eyes directed at him.

  He rolled his eyes. “The horns are fine. But if I spot you using the wings again, you’ll wish that I sent you back.” The horns would hopefully allow her to pass as a demihuman who painted them.

  The knowledge devil nodded several times, then stood up. She snapped her fingers and her wings vanished in a puff of prismatic light. They had turned back into magical energy, which then vanished from the material plane.

  “I’m Tyrisa,” she said. “I guess you already knew that, given you summoned me by name.”

  “You’re greener than I thought you’d be,” Rys mused. “You’ve been working in one of Ariel’s courts since you were ten. I figured you’d be a little more polite.”

  Tyrisa glared at him. “You tried to rip my horns off the moment I appeared.” Then she hunched her shoulders and added, “Master.”

  The urge to roll his eyes was strong. But Rys felt that he’d be rolling his eyes every time she spoke if he gave in.

  “I don’t care what you call me. But yes, I’m your master,” he said. “Your job will be to help with administration, which requires you to pass as a human. Your other duty is to help me with infernal contracts.”

  Tyrisa blinked, then tilted her head. “Huh. I’ve done a lot of contracts in Hell, but never any for humans.”

  “I already know you haven’t been to Harrium. Don’t try to pretend.”

  She blushed and looked down. A moment later, she bounced back with a smile. “Well, I don’t think you’re human anyway. Your soul feels so strange and your emotions are… odd.”

  Rys raised an eyebrow at that response. The soulsight of every divine race was different. Angels told truth from lie. Demons could see the general level of magical power connected to a soul or magical essence. Devils saw emotions and emotional connections.

  Dismissing her words, Rys continued, “The most important thing is that I don’t want to cover for your mistakes. Act however you want around me. But you’ll be dealing with rulers and powerful infernals. I don’t want to waste time covering up the faux pas of my office drones.”

  “I’m not an office drone,” Tyrisa muttered. “But fine. This should be fun.” She looked around. “I don’t see a contract on you. Did you want me to draw up my own contract?” The smirk on her face indicated her opinion of that.

  Rys stared at her but remained silent.

  After several long seconds, Tyrisa’s face fell. “Wait, when did you…? How am I already bound? What is this?”

  “I am a human. My name is Talarys,” he said. No recognition in her eyes. “The method I’ve used to bind you is an old one, but it means you can’t disobey me. It happened the moment I stepped inside the circle to grab your horns.”

  He probably shouldn’t have done that, but they had annoyed him so much.

  She winced and gripped her horns with her hands, as if to try to hide them from sight.

  There was more to do today, so he led her into the manor itself. She stared at the demons as she followed him, her eyes turning into saucers when she spotted a noble demon.

  Eventually, they entered a room that Vallis had dubbed the war room. A large table dominated the space, and it contained the map that Vallis had brought here. Brass and wooden figures were arrayed on top of it. A globe sat in a corner, next to bookshelves full of encyclopedias and other books of varying value.

  Rys felt that Tyrisa would have gravitated toward the bookshelves in a normal situation. Instead, she froze on the spot the moment the door opened. Her jaw dropped, and she stared at the massive figure who bent over the central table.

  “Ah, a knowledge devil? Well met. I am Grigor,” the demon prince said, using his human form.

  Tyrisa bowed so fast and hard that Rys swore he heard her spine snap. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir!”

  What a difference in attitude.

  “Grigor handles my military affairs,” Rys said. He then gestured to Tyrisa and spoke to Grigor, “This is Tyrisa. She’ll be my secretary. Or close enough. We can’t run this like a court or even a small kingdom, and I think that’s the right approach in any case.”

  Grigor nodded, ignoring the bowing devil in the doorway. “I assume you have a plan in mind for our Lady Maria. Allow me to brief you on the intel we have received from the Malakin and Vallis,” he said.

  Rys stepped up to the table. Tyrisa eventually followed him and shut the door after a glance. She bustled around the room, gathering some paper and a pen to write with. Her face glowed bright red, and she refused to look Rys in the eye.

  “Your suspicions have proven correct,” Grigor said. “Although we do not know the full extent of the problem or what is the cause. The Malakin have recordings of meetings between Kinadain traders and Compagnon’s liaisons in Anceston.” Grigor’s massive fingers brushed a few multi-colored recording crystals on one corner of the table.

  “Is it enough?” Rys asked.

  Grigor grimaced. “I… am not an expert in this area. In the old days, this would be Asa’s field of expertise.”

  Asa had been Rys’s head of intelligence. She was the source of his translation Gift and one of Lacrissa’s succubi lieutenants. Lacrissa had originally used her to spy on Rys, but Asa had always been reliable for him. Despite her perennial laziness, she proved a highly capable succubus and an excellent spymaster.

  Or maybe that was because she was lazy. She disliked when her subordinates forced her to get her hands dirty. And Asa was very good at getting her hands dirty. She could flatten Grigor without breaking a sweat, and she could control an army with her mind.

  Rys wondered what she was up to these days.

  “Um,” Tyrisa tried to say. She ducked her head when both men looked at her, then looked at Rys. “I can go over them later and record transcripts. If that’s useful?”

  “It is. Do that. It’s faster for me to skim a transcript than listen to hours of recordings full of dead space,” Rys said.

  Grigor pushed the crystals toward Tyrisa, who tidily organized them on her side of the table.

  “I assume Vallis has confirmed the same thing?” Rys asked.

  “That is correct. Between the Malakin and Vallis, we have confirmed Compagnon’s plan, Lady Maria’s story, and the Kinadain’s collusion with Compagnon.” Grigor then tapped a set of wooden figures south of Aretiers. “Which is the problem.”

  “That’s a lot of soldiers,” Rys said.

  “The Malus League is a powerful nation to the south. These fortresses guard the only pass between here and them,” Grigor said. “Fort Foret belongs to Compagnon on the northern side, and Gravuskeep to the Malus League on the south. We haven’t found any connections between the two yet, but if I were them, then I would be watching closely.”

  Rys nodded. “If Compagnon falls, it would be a power vacuum they might try to fill. If we overstretch ourselves, then the Malus League might try to mop us up. The name doesn’t make them sound very nice.”

  There was more to the Malus League than their name. The nation consisted of rogue mages who had fled Gauron in order to study whatever they wanted. Their mages studied everything from the forbidden—such as necromancy and infernal sorcery—to schools of sorcery that were considered uneconomical or useless—such as summoning and rune-crafting.

  Rys didn’
t care what they studied. Modern politics regarding magic was the last thing he gave a damn about.

  But he did care that his southern neighbors were a nation of outcasts. Everybody hated the Malus League. And the mages reveled in the hatred they received. Their name literally meant “Evil League,” after all.

  Tyrisa scribbled away rapidly while they spoke, and she even sketched down the position of the figures on the map.

  They talked for a little while longer, but the bulk of the planning had been done. What Grigor awaited was the go ahead to attack.

  That couldn’t happen until Rys met with Maria. If she caught wind that he was already attacking Compagnon, she’d be less amenable to his terms.

  “Now that the serious talk is over, I wanted to ask for some advice on infernals back in Hell,” Rys asked.

  Tyrisa looked up, eyes wide. “Um, not to interrupt, but…” She took a deep breath when they both looked at her but managed to not shrink in terror this time. “Did you want copies of the meeting notes? Or just the transcripts of the recordings?”

  What a dutiful secretary she was.

  “Make a spare copy of the meeting notes. You’ll need to give them to Vallis, who I’ll introduce you to later. Leave the transcripts in my bedroom,” he said.

  Tyrisa’s eyes widened at the mention of his bedroom, but she nodded.

  Turning back to Grigor, Rys continued, “I’m wary of using Darus to ask about people that I’m connected to. So tell me what happened to Asa and some of the others.”

  Grigor nodded, and his expression appeared grim. “It has been a long time, and much has changed. Asa is alive, as I’m sure you know. But her laziness finally got the better of her. She fell swiftly in the ranks of the Succubus Queen now that she didn’t have you to cover for her. Most of her time is spent lazing about in the independent regions of Hell.”

  Given the satisfied twinkle in Grigor’s eyes, Rys suspected that his friend was privately happy to see Asa taken down a peg or three.

  But what Rys took away from this was that his favorite succubus was a free agent now. Once he weakened his seal and gathered enough power to summon her, he’d make good use of her talents.

  “What about ol’ Ironspike?” Rys asked.

  “Fallen. Your old rival was sent by Ariel to support her contract with Kushan, and died like so many others,” Grigor said.

  Kushan. Rys remembered that name.

  “Wait, wasn’t he the human mage that invented evocation? Why would he have a contract with the Devil Queen?” Rys asked.

  Tyrisa stared at Rys in disbelief.

  Grigor chuckled. “Because he wanted power, and quickly. Ariel sent her most powerful handmaiden, Ferra, to help him conquer Gauron. He succeeded, but eventually was slain. Most of Ariel’s best demons were depleted by the battles necessary to defeat the nations of Gauron—the great magical empires of elves; the underground chasms of the dwarves; and the draconic kingdoms atop the mountains.”

  Rys realized he needed to brush up on his history. Something to ask Darus soon.

  “I’m surprised they died, instead of being banished,” Rys said.

  “As was I, and I think even Malusian was,” Grigor rumbled, and he closed his eyes.

  No wonder so many of Rys’s Gifts were inactive. Ariel had helped conquer Gauron while he had been asleep—and failed. One of his Gifts had been from Ferra, back when they fought together after the Cataclysm. She had become Ariel’s right hand, only to die on Gauron.

  One of Rys’s friends, a demon lord named Araunth, had once told Rys something he kept in the back of his head.

  That even the most iconic of memories became a page in the great book of time. Those pages might become dog-eared and reread billions of times. But, eventually, they would be buried by countless other iconic memories. Then almost nobody remembered what had once been common knowledge, and legends faded into obscurity.

  Better still to never become a memory.

  “What about Araunth?” Rys asked.

  “Still the greatest of all demon lords. He is the unofficial fourth archdevil,” Grigor said. “His feats have only grown.”

  Tyrisa’s jaw dropped. “You know Araunth? How?”

  “Old drinking buddies,” Rys said.

  “Bullshit.” She blushed when Grigor looked at her.

  “No, really, we were,” Rys said. He smiled fondly at the memories. “There were three of us that used to drink in a VIP lounge in a city on the border between Malusian’s and Ariel’s territory. Duar, Araunth, and I would get together and make plans over drinks.”

  “Duar…” Tyrisa breathed. “You’re talking about the Infernal Empire. Who… Who are you?”

  “Talarys, Malusian’s lost general,” Grigor said.

  One day, the reaction of the summoned infernals might get old. But not today.

  He left Tyrisa to grip onto the table and stare at him in bewilderment, and resumed his discussion with Grigor.

  “Well, who actually is alive? I get the feeling almost everybody I know is dead,” Rys said.

  Grigor remained still for some time, and Rys wondered if he’d touched a nerve.

  But then, the old demon said, “Frederick.”

  Seriously?

  “Fred. Fat Fred? That lazy, fat demon prince is alive when nobody else is?” Rys asked.

  Did the last 1500 years selectively choose laziness as its preferred personality trait?

  Grigor looked at Rys and chuckled. “Indeed, although I still question your belief that he is lazy. Or fat. But he is more powerful than ever. He holds a comfortable position in one of Ariel’s outer courts.”

  That might make it harder to summon him without being noticed. But Rys knew Fred, and that made him a better candidate than almost every other demon prince in Hell.

  “Well, that gave me a few ideas,” Rys said. “Thanks for the trip down memory lane. Sorry if I brought up anything you preferred to forget.”

  He bumped his fist against Grigor’s arm and the demon prince chuckled in return.

  “It was pleasant, Rys. I do hope that the old times might return,” Grigor said.

  Rys held his tongue. In his mind, he doubted that could ever happen. Too much had changed.

  But that was a conversation for another day with Grigor. For now, he left the demon prince to finalize his plans and carried a catatonic knowledge devil to her new bedroom.

  Vallis should return within a few days. Once that happened, Rys would set his plan in motion.

  Chapter 15

  “I really hope I’m not interrupting something,” Fara said as she cracked the door open.

  “Fuck, Rys, you’re so fucking big,” Vallis shouted suddenly.

  Fara froze, then glared at Vallis, her tails weaving a pattern behind her. The merchant laughed and danced behind the desk in Rys’s study.

  Rolling his eyes at their antics, Rys tried to maintain the fireball in his hand. It wobbled in the air, shifting in size rapidly every second. A loud slap filled the room and Vallis swore.

  “So, rather than having sex, you’re practicing evocation,” Fara said a moment later, leaning over his shoulder.

  “I can have sex anytime, but the sooner I learn this, the better,” Rys said.

  “Ah, I had been wondering about the lack of wild orgies,” Fara said.

  Rys finally lost control of the flame and it went out. He sighed. Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed the bridge of his nose. He must be doing something wrong. While he had the basics of controlling the energy down, he couldn’t maintain a spell to save himself.

  “Is that something you really wonder about?” he asked Fara to take his mind off his failed attempts at evocation.

  “You’ve brought up succubi before. I expected a harem of beautiful devils rotating through your bedroom by now. Isn’t that what the soundproofing is for?” she asked.

  “You noticed that?” he asked.

  “The massive magical wards around every bedroom in the manor? No, never noticed them,”
Fara said sarcastically. Her tails hit Rys in the head. “I’m a mystic fox. I reckon I can sense a lot of things you can’t, no matter how much secret, ancient knowledge you have in your head about magical theory.”

  “I don’t recall keeping much secret magical theory to myself,” he said.

  Vallis wandered up to him, rubbing a reddened cheek. She kneeled next to the desk and put her elbows up on it.

  “Bullshit,” Vallis said. “When I first started helping you with evocation, you were saying nonsense about planes, sympathetic connections, and the origins of energy. I still can’t believe I’m teaching you this.”

  “You nearly became a mage. That’s something,” he said.

  In truth, Rys wanted to learn evocation on his own, but it had proved harder than he expected.

  He had spent weeks poring over books on evocation to no avail. Even Darus’s knowledge Gift hadn’t been enough.

  Rys knew the theory inside and out. In fact, he arguably knew the theory better than the man who invented the damn thing. Darus’s knowledge Gift was the equivalent of Kushan’s original notes but with annotations from somebody who knew magical theory from the Infernal Empire.

  But something was missing. So Rys had asked Vallis to help him. Surprisingly, that had helped. But results were slow.

  “You’re learning faster than I ever did,” Vallis said. “I spent eight years as an apprentice. And that was after seven years of learning magic at home.”

  “I take it that becoming a mage is a slow process for most humans?” Rys asked, curious.

  “It’s a lifetime’s work. You don’t decide to become a mage—somebody decides you will become one, usually when you’re very young,” Vallis said. “I showed magical talent when I was five. Set a merchant’s stall on fire when he didn’t give me free candy.”

  “That was awful,” Fara muttered.

  “Greatest achievement I had for years,” Vallis said. She shrugged. “Once you show magical talent, it’s then a matter of money. Or connections. We had both, so I was sent off to Tarmouth when I turned twelve.”