by Lyndon Hardy
Kestrel looked at Astron. “Of course I must admit, demon, to having learned a few other things as well. Before our journey together, lead balloons and pinhole glasses I never would have suspected. Your use of them illustrated a powerful discipline. It was because of examining the facts of the situation that I found the way to defeat Gaspar when my glib words were sure to fail.”
“Logic and calculations are indeed powerful.” Astron pulled his eyes away from Nimbia. “When the quest began, it was for such knowledge of things that I hungered. Yet now that I ponder, it was knowledge of self that I gained the most.
“No logical demon would have rushed toward the burning pollen grain when every impulse was to flee. Not even the mightiest djinn willingly would travel through the fire into nothingness and then pluck away the one apparent means to return. None would think that they could pull matter through into the void if it were difficult for them to transport it between universes that are known. Without a demonstration, who could know for sure that a creature of the fey would have feelings intense enough to form a new realm in time.
“It was not logic but the freedom of the stembrain that gave me the plan, as irrational as it was. Palodad never suspected until it was all too late. We have both learned, Kestrel, from each other, you of things in the realms about you, me of the emotions that slumbered within.”
Astron stood up and tugged on Nimbia’s hand. “But enough of analysis after the fact. We should return to the lair that you constructed for me. We must give the tiny realm more thought and soon, so that it will grow. Together we can mold it into whatever we desire.”
“After a moment, Astron.” Nimbia did not rise. She pulled on the demon’s hand to have him resume his seat. “I first wish to hear more of the legends that humankind have about the realm of the fey.”
“But we have pledged to one another.” Astron wrinkled his nose. “According to the sagas, the wishes of one are to be the other’s command and—and I desire to go.”
“You do not quite have it right.” Nimbia smiled. “It is my desire that is the wish, your part is the command.”
“But—” The wrinkle in Astron’s nose deepened.
“Astron, there are still many more riddles in your future.” Kestrel laughed. “And I think that you will find that Gaspar’s was just one of the easy ones.”
Astron looked quickly at Kestrel, saw Phoebe smiling with the rest, and then turned back to Nimbia. His stembrain told him that the words of the woodcutter were all too true.
About the Author
LYN HARDY became interested in fantasy while wandering through the fringes of fandom as an undergraduate at Caltech. In addition to reading and writing, he has sporadic bursts of enthusiasm for collecting stamps, comics, astronaut patches and playing cards. He currently lives with his wife and two daughters in Torrance, California.
DEMON QUEST
The worst of the mess they were in, Kestrel knew, was that it was all his own fault. It all began when he’d tried to cheat the lady wizard Phoebe with a load of worthless wood. When she insisted on testing his anvilwood sample, the demon Astron had burst through the fire with some wild tale of a mission to the archmage to save his master from a dread enemy. Then Kestrel had decided, with Astron’s naive help, to bilk the other wizards of their gold. So they were pursued by eleven raging wizards and uncounted imps.
Drifting across the border in a lead balloon brought them to the archmage Alodar. But instead of calling off the pursuit, he had sent them into the perilous realm of the fey. And now they were being shuttled madly across universe after universe, each more dangerous than the last. It wasn’t fair, Kestrel thought, even if it was his fault!
