Demons of the Flame Sea

by Jean Johnson

  “My apologies,” the woman stated smoothly, in a mellifluous alto. She moved over to join the cluster of Fae, and let her mate introduce her.

  “My love, this is Jintaya, leader of the pantean of the Flame Sea,” he stated. “Jintaya, this is Shava, an excellent educator, scientist, and musician.”

  “Welcome to the Flame Sea,” Jintaya greeted her, clasping forearms, though the two women did not embrace, since they were not kin. “May the stars bless you and your mate in this land.”

  “May they bless you as well,” Shava replied. “I am told you have many Dai-Fae in need of evaluation and examination, as to whether or not any of them should be let through the Veilway back to Faelan.”

  “We do. I do not think they would be harmful to our people, but because of the way magic affects the Fae in this world, Dai-Fae may have difficulties in adapting to other dimensions’ rules when crossing between realms,” Jintaya warned her. “I would have called for an educator at a more normal timeframe twenty or so years ago, but we wanted to take our time in discerning what the mixing of blood might do to half-breeds.”

  “I look forward to the challenge of examining and hopefully instructing them in Fae ways,” Shava agreed. She looked at the others.

  “You are a musician?” Zedren asked her. At her nod, he smiled. “Good. I look forward to hearing you perform. I can make and repair instruments, and I love listening, but I’m not very musically inclined.”

  “That’s the polite way of saying he sounds like a dying tash when he sings,” Muan translated.

  Her brother blushed and wrinkled his nose, but chuckled anyway. “I’m afraid my sister is right.”

  Jintaya eyed the Veilway. “When are the negotiators coming through? I would have thought they’d be first.”

  “I think Jinji was still arguing last moment with the librarians on bringing more of the law library across,” Muan told her. “I know they have good reason not to let a lot of Fae-gathered information sit in other worlds, in case the excess information contaminates the local knowledge pool, but we are going to be cut off for two months. You did say you overheard them discussing possibly using inheritance clauses to delay a decision, so we did manage to wrest out as much of those precedents as Jinji and I could find, but they could decide to negotiate in some other direction.”

  “If nothing else, we can delay that sort of decision. And I did not overhear them myself,” Jintaya added. She gestured at the young Fae with ash gold hair and cat gold eyes standing near the exit of the grotto, guiding the furniture now floating through the Veilway. “Kaife was on duty, so he technically heard it, but he does not know the Frijsh language, so he replayed the recording of his spying for Ban, who can understand any language seen or heard.”

  Ban dipped his head, acknowledging his part in their efforts. At Shava’s curious look, he lifted a finger and tapped the pale blue tracery tattooed between his right eye, right ear, and the right side of his throat. “Translation tattoo bound to my innate magics, powered solely by my own energies and my ability to concentrate. It allows me to see, hear, read, write, speak, and in general understand and communicate with any language, so long as I am aware it is a language, and the communicator is at least somewhat sentient.”

  “That was a really long sentence, Ban,” Kaife called out jokingly. “You might want to sit down if you start feeling dizzy.”

  “Would you prefer me to be short and rude in your language?” he called back. “I can go back to doing that.”

  “Be gentle, both of you,” Jintaya ordered.

  “. . . You also have another tattoo, on your other eye,” Shava observed, choosing to focus on that instead of on the brief exchange. “It is very subtle and hard to see. What does it do?”

  “It allows me to see through illusions and disguises,” Ban informed her. “The subtlety of it is part of the magic, as the inks must be matched to the warrior’s skin tone. Painted Warrior,” he added in clarification. “That is what I used to be, a very long time ago.”

  “What would you call yourself now?” Krue asked him, curious.

  There were several answers Ban could have made to that question, answers ranging from flippant to grim. Luckily, someone else came through the portal between worlds, distracting the group. The new male looked to be about the same height as Éfan. However, where Éfan had honey gold eyes and wheat gold hair that ended at his waist, the newcomer bore eyes the color of ground mustard and nearly matching ash blond hair that fell to his hips.

  The Fae wore garments similar to Éfan’s mage robes, though more in shades of light brown than lighter, truer Fae yellows. A large satchel sat on one shoulder, braced by the hand on the strap and the elbow angled back against its bulging side. His other hand held the handle of what looked like a wooden box with a slanted side. Ban recognized it belatedly as a portable writing desk.

  The sight of that simple piece of furniture-cum-baggage sent a shaft of something through him. Pain. No, not pain, he realized. Homesickness . . . Menda, it’s been so long since I saw a proper scribe’s desk . . . Menda, Scribe of Heaven and Creator of the Written Word . . . in another universe. Not in this one.

  The Fae stopped in front of him, and arched a dark blond brow. “See something you like?”

  Ban dragged his gaze up from that box, which undoubtedly contained all the writing implements the Fae needed for his trade. Those mustardyellow eyes eyed him with wry friendliness, enough that the human outworlder confessed, “My people were credited with creating the written word, on my homeworld. I have not seen a portable writing desk like that in a very long time.”

  “. . . Ban, this is Kefer, our law-sayer and chief negotiator,” Muan introduced. “Kefer, this is Ban, the outworlder Shae assigned to protect Jintaya.”

  “He also serves as our long-ranging scout,” Jintaya added, touching Ban’s elbow. “He brings back a lot of plants, seeds, and seedlings for our agriculturalist to experiment with, along with news of far-flung lands and tribes. Ban is the one who discovered the Efrijt living to the northwest.”

  “I look forward to discussing them with you,” Kefer stated politely, giving Ban a slight bow. “How much experience have you had in dealing with them, would you say?”

  Ban answered flatly. “They abandoned me on a demi-hell seventeen hundred years ago, when I refused to enslave myself to them. It took me twenty-three more years to escape and find a way into the next universe.”

  “So you are prejudiced against them. With very good reason,” Kefer added, dipping his head slightly. He studied Ban shrewdly for a moment, then asked bluntly, “Can you deal politely with them, in spite of your justifiable anger? These are likely not the same business group of Efrijt. Given their average lifespan is only a handful of centuries, it is highly likely that they are not the same people, either.”

  “They are not the same people,” Ban admitted. “That was a group from a Medjant Kosak. This one is called Medjant Kumon. I am still angry, and I know it colors my initial viewpoints and reactions.”

  “That is good to know, thank you. I will keep that in mind when considering your role in the negotiations.” He eyed the others, and focused on the woman at Ban’s side. “You would be Jintaya, yes?”

  “That is correct,” she agreed. “Welcome to the pantean of the Flame Sea.”

  “I understand you accidentally revealed yourselves to the natives of this world, more or less the moment you arrived,” Kefer stated. “And that you have since managed to integrate the pantean alongside the local settlement and culture. How much of that was deliberate forethought?”

  Ban stiffened a little at the implications in that question, that Jintaya and her companions would ever breach the protocols of non-interference the Fae Rii operated by, but Jintaya took it in stride.

  “We improvised the initial stages, and dealt with the remainder as appropriate for compromised pantean protocols. Ban gave cha
se to the one witness, but that one turned into several before he could catch and dispatch the voyeur, and that became over two hundred, all in a very short span of time,” she told him. “The Council has approved and authorized all the choices I made. Are you challenging my decisions?”

  “I am trying to assess how you think, in case we need to ‘improvise’ again,” Kefer replied frankly. “We will be out of touch for over two months, starting three days from now. We may try to delay formal decisions during that time, but we may have to act quickly, since we can only control our own circumstances and actions. We cannot control the Efrijt.”

  “I have not worked with a full negotiator before now,” Jintaya allowed, dipping her head slightly. “I am not certain how you perform your duties.”

  “I’m certain it varies from one negotiator to the next, and from one situation to the next,” he said. “I do specialize in dealing with the Efrijt, and have overseen eight negotiations as lead negotiator, plus twelve more as a junior, and a full score and a half as an apprentice—I am older than I look,” Kefer added to Ban, catching the narrowing of his eyes. “Most Fae are, but rest assured, I have been an adult for two centuries, now.”

  “I am far older than that,” Ban returned dryly. “I was not judging you on your looks.”

  “Good. Do not judge my compatriot based on hers,” the law-sayer stated.

  A moment later, what looked like a teenager hurried through the Veilway, dodging a table-sized device that resembled a complicated orrery for a system with thirty or forty planets, plus moons and so forth. She wore fitted trousers, a sleeveless shirt, and a sleeveless coat over that, falling to her ankles in shades of orange and deep amber. The deviation from Fae yellows made her stand out a bit oddly, but so did her height, a full finger-length or more shorter than the next shortest member of the pantean, and at least two lengths shorter than Éfan. Human female height, Ban realized, which made her below average for a Fae.

  “. . . And here she is. Jinji, this is Jintaya, leader of the pantean of the Flame Sea,” Kefer stated, gesturing at the older female. “Next to her is the Shae, Ban.” He paused, glanced around, then said, “The fellow by the Veilway looks like the descriptions I was given for Éfan, and the fellow by the other end of the chamber would be Kaife . . . yes? The others are elsewhere, I see.”

  “That is correct,” Jintaya agreed. “You will meet the others at supper, provided they have managed to haul through the portal all of your belongings, plus the supplies we might need over the next two months.” She eyed the newest woman of the group, then asked cautiously, “. . . May I know your age, Jinji?”

  “Forty-seven. I know it’s a bit young,” Jinji admitted, tossing her head to get her nearly metallic gold curls out of her face, “but I am quite good at negotiating, I assure you. I’ve successfully negotiated six times with the Efrijt. Once as an apprentice, thrice as a junior, and twice as the lead.”

  “Technically, I am listed as the lead negotiator,” Kefer added lightly. “But I have found Jinji to be my equal in successfully campaigning a verbal form of warfare against the Efrijt. We work very well together.”

  “Vul Gh’vin,” Jinji added, gesturing at Kefer and then herself, “Vai Gh’vin. Though sometimes we switch.”

  It took Ban a moment to translate that as Rough Guardian, Kind Guardian, and then a few more to realize she meant how they acted during a negotiation, not their actual training or station.

  “People underestimate her because of her apparent youth,” Kefer added. “Just as they underestimate me. We do work well together.”

  “You are the youngest of those who have joined this pantean,” Jintaya told the young Fae, “but only by a single year. Adan was forty-eight when he first came here. He will be pleased, I think, to no longer be marked as the youngest of us.”

  Jinji held up a hand, her expression sober and her tone deepening, almost darkening in warning. “Just so long as you do not treat me as a child. People underestimate me at their peril.”

  “She is quite dangerous when riled,” Kefer agreed.

  Krue nodded. “I have heard the reputation of Negotiator Jinji. She is a weaponsmaster of wit and tongue . . . though I expect her, and all of you, to practice actual combat skills while I am here.”

  “I would not have anything less,” Jintaya agreed. That earned her a wary look from Ban. Catching it, she shrugged. “I dislike enacting violence, but I am quite prepared to practice it. I always have been.”

  Ban dipped his head, acknowledging her point.

  Zedren laced his fingers together and flexed them. He eyed Jintaya speculatively as he did so. “. . . I trust I have been given suitable workrooms? And quarters of my own?”

  “There is room for three dozen Fae to each have a grand suite,” Jintaya promised him. “You’ve been given a half dozen workrooms as well as personal quarters placed nearby. As soon as Kaife is done assisting in levitating everything to its proper new place, he will be available to make adjustments to the layout of your workrooms, including installing forges and such. However, before any of that can happen, you will need to undergo an orientation to the magic of this world, starting with myself in covering the basics, and then a series of lessons from Éfan on how to control your magic so that you do not unduly disrupt the energies of this place.”

  “I read the report,” Jinji admitted, thumbs tucking into the belt slung around her waistband. “It sounds intriguing, if you like dangerous overdoses of power. We’ll need to be careful on how much of the knowledge of it gets into Efrijt hands, though some of that will be up to the discretion of the locals—I’ll work up a set of scenarios that runs the gauntlet from total ignorance to total information. I’m hoping they’ll end up more ignorant than aware, but I won’t hold my breath and pretend they won’t learn a thing.”

  “Well, if you will all come with me now,” Jintaya stated, “I will show you around the pantean stronghold, and to your quarters. We tried to select ones that should suit your needs, though you are welcome to swap around a bit. We do have plenty of extra room.”

  “Why the extra rooms for such a small pantean?” Shava asked, moving to follow her new leader.

  “We had the power to spare to make the alterations,” Jintaya stated over her shoulder. “We also had the time to spare. And while the oddities of the magical interactions of this world did slow down the influx of fresh personnel, we have held out hope that we would get more people someday. Either from Faelan, or from among the Dai-Fae, if they pass your testing requirements.”

  “That’s a good point,” Krue agreed, following at his wife’s side. “Did you have the forethought to create combat training facilities?”

  “Some,” Ban stated. “I requested some of them for within the stronghold, but most of them were placed outside, to be shared with the locals.”

  “Is that wise?” Jinji asked him.

  “More to the point, is that legal?” Kefer asked dryly. “Fae are not supposed to give advanced knowledge to indigenous peoples.”

  Ban flashed a brief, not quite humorous smile. “I’m not Fae. That rule does not apply to me. The others have kept it much more scrupulously, only getting involved when the local humans were skilled enough to successfully spar with them.” Honesty prompted him to add, “It took about ten years for them to learn enough to last more than a few moments against me.”

  “It only took about eight,” Kaife corrected as they passed his position, exiting the grotto. “And please stay on the right side of all corridors leading out from this point, so we don’t whack you with a bag or a crate.”

  “We will be careful,” Krue promised, while the others nodded in agreement.

  ***

  Anzak almost liked the aging woman named Zuki. She spoke with reasonable respect toward him, expected reasonable respect toward herself, and had a decent grasp of the magic of this world. More so than the animadjet of the Red Rocks
Tribe. Indeed, the elderly woman had decided to treat him like one of her pupils, and had bidden him to sit among a handful of her pupils while answering his questions, so that they could also learn from the discussion.

  She lounged across from him on a wicker-woven chair and footstool lined with cushions for her old bones, one of several such pieces of furniture placed in a sort of courtyard garden sheltered from the worst of the sun by the steepness of the ravine walls. The courtyard was further cooled by both water and plantlife. Several trees and bushes grew around them in stone boxes, irrigated by a narrow aqueduct that splashed and trickled water down among the planters, moistening the air. The rest of the water ran into the residences ringing the granite walls, their balconies and water channels trimmed with relief-carved decorations.

  It was almost a civilized-looking place, save that the native humans still wore coarse-spun fibers and scraped, smoke-tanned leathers for their clothes. Anzak, seated on a stone bench since the wooden chairs looked too flimsy for his muscular frame, opened his mouth to ask another question. He closed it in the next moment, spotting a golden figure approaching up the path from the mouth of the wadij.

  He had seen some of the Fae over the last few days, but this one was a new face. This Fae, a male with plebian dull blond hair that had been twined in ropes from shoulder to waist, wore gossamer robes in a matching dull gold, yet his remarkably pale, bright yellow eyes warned the taro the mind behind that gaze was quite sharp-witted. Moreover, he focused on the Efrijt, clearly intending to talk with him.

  Anzak rose from the bench and moved forward a little, wanting to be on his feet so he could tower over the shorter male by a hand-length. The other male did not seem very impressed, let alone intimidated, though the half dozen children and teenagers still seated around Anzak blinked up at him, reminded once again of how much he towered over these frail humans.

  “So,” the male murmured, gliding up to the Efrijt with the smooth gait of a mature Fae. “This is the taro of House of the Spotted Curling Shell . . .” He circled around Anzak, eyeing the taller, broader man from head to toe.