“I remember, Master,” said the imp, as it leaped away, reaching a window in two bounds.
The secretary at the desk stood and shouted, “Guards!”
Instantly, guards from the corners of the large antechamber and by the doors raced to see what the problem was, as Amirantha calmly sat back down on the bench. Brandos looked on with some amusement as the secretary tried explaining that the two men quietly sitting on the bench had just conspired to make a tiny blue man appear, who had leaped out the window.
Unsure of what to do, the secretary ordered the guards to subdue the two on the bench, which brought a confused reaction from the guard sergeant, as the two men hardly appeared in need of subduing. Then the secretary realized that outside the window there was access to another window into the General’s offices, and said, “Quick! Inside! Protect His Excellency.”
The guards hurried through the door, with the frantic secretary a step behind. Brandos and Amirantha exchanged glances, stood slowly, and followed the excited man into the General’s meeting room.
Kaspar of Olasko, General of the Armies of Muboya and the Maharaja’s Chancellor, sat behind his desk, while the imp Nalnar sat quietly eating baked corn wafers and cheese off a plate. The General had pushed his chair back, obviously startled at first, but now calmly observing the imp at his meal.
The guards stood around, uncertain of what to do next, while the secretary shouted, “Excellency, are you safe?”
“Safe enough, it appears,” said Kaspar. He was a round-faced man but otherwise slender and fit, his hair having turned steel-grey over the years. He once again affected the chin whiskers he had sported in his youth, but kept his upper lip and sideburns shaven. His mouth was set in a tight but slightly amused expression, as though he was annoyed at the interruption of his workday but found the novelty of it intriguing.
And it was clear he saw nothing remotely threatening in the situation. “It came in the window a moment ago and leaped upon my desk. Then it started eating my lunch.”
Amirantha and Brandos exchanged knowing glances. Nalnar had a particular fondness for cheese.
As the imp ate with single-mindedness, Kaspar waved away the guards. “I think I’m safe,” he observed.
The secretary, still looking frantic, shouted, “Arrest those men!” and pointed at Amirantha and Brandos.
With a single wave of his hand, Kaspar aborted the attempt. “Is this yours?” he said to Amirantha, pointing at Nalnar.
“In a manner of speaking,” replied the Warlock.
Again with a wave of his hand, Kaspar dismissed the guards and secretary. After the guards had left, Amirantha and Brandos noticed a man cowering in the corner, huddled down in abject terror. Kaspar half-rose out of his seat to address the man. “Lord Mora, perhaps it would be best if we continued our discussion on another day.”
The man slowly rose, nodding vigorously but still unable or unwilling to speak. He quickly exited the room, leaving Kaspar alone with the imp and two strangers. “Now,” said Kaspar, “what am I to make of all this?”
Amirantha’s eyes half-closed and rolled upward in an expression of exasperation. “Nalnar!”
The imp jumped at his name. “Master?” he hissed.
“The message?”
Looking abashed, the imp lowered his head and said, “Amirantha of the Satumbria seeks audience, for he has a dire warning and needs to speak with you now.”
“You forgot?”
“He had cheese,” pleaded the imp.
Brandos shrugged. “It could have been worse. It could have been a plate of muffins.”
“Muffins,” agreed Amirantha.
“Muffins!” shrieked the imp as he started to look around the room.
Amirantha held out one hand and said, “Thou art dismissed, minion!”
The imp faded out of view and the Warlock said, “My lord Kaspar, I apologize, but I’ve been waiting without those doors for three days—”
“Four,” corrected Brandos, “if you count this day.”
Shooting his companion a dark look and a silent warning to not interrupt again, Amirantha said, “—days and judged it likely to be days more unless I resorted to something more dramatic.”
Kaspar nodded, sat back down, and finally said, “I’m listening.”
In efficient style, Amirantha told Kaspar of his encounter with the summoned demon, omitting the reason why they were summoning a demon in a cave in the first place. Still, he left out nothing critical, stressing how dangerous the creature was and that its appearance was a warning of far deeper dangers.
After he finished, Kaspar was silent for a while, then said, “Let me see if I have the right of this.
“You are the two mountebanks who have been fleecing the locals to the east and north of here by banishing demons you summon.” When they didn’t deny it, he continued. “But you thought enough of this danger to come see me, even though you knew I might decide to employ harsh judgment against you for your confidence tricks?”
Amirantha glanced at Brandos, who stood motionless, showing no emotion. “Yes,” he said finally. “This is a dangerous enough issue that I felt the need to carry word.
“As I said, magic has a signature, each unique to whoever the caster is, and while only the most accomplished among us can discern that difference, it is there. And the man who distorted my magic to summon that demon is well known to me.”
“Who is that?” asked Kaspar.
“My brother, Belasco.”
“So, this is a family problem?” said Kaspar, his eyes narrowing, as if this was not the sort of answer he had expected.
Brandos shifted uneasily and said, “It’s…an odd family, really.”
“Apparently,” said Kaspar, heaving himself out of his chair with a sigh. He moved to the window. “In my day I’ve traveled a lot, places even you would be surprised to hear of…Warlock?”
“It’s a title of my people,” said Amirantha, “the Satumbria.”
“I’ve never heard of them,” said Kaspar.
“They no longer exist,” said Amirantha, and even Brandos looked surprised to hear that. “They were obliterated years ago by the armies of the Emerald Queen.”
Kaspar nodded. “I’ve heard tales of that time,” was all he said. He didn’t think it necessary to explain he had served with men who had fought against those armies. He paused, then said, “Very well, Warlock. Let us say for a minute I believe what you say and that you are, indeed, very concerned.
“I am still not clear on why the concern.”
“I thought I explained,” said Amirantha, and a note of impatience seeped into his voice.
“Think of me as a slow student,” said Kaspar dryly, as he sat on the edge of his desk, looking down at the two men. He motioned for them to bring their chairs closer and returned to sit behind his desk.
Amirantha sat, then for a moment stared at Kaspar of Olasko, second most powerful man in the Kingdom of Muboya. He recognized at once this was no ordinary courtier but a man who had seen much, and who could be very dangerous. Amirantha had no fondness for danger, preferring to give it a wide berth. Avoiding this man’s displeasure was the safe course.
Slowly he said, “I was born in a village far to the north, one of a dozen inhabited by a people called the Satumbria. I suppose at one time or another we were nomadic, like some of the tribes to the east of us, but for many generations we had occupied a particularly nice valley, and the surrounding meadows.
“We paid tribute when we had to, to whichever city state or local robber baron claimed us, but for the most part we were left to our own devices and did as well as any poor farmers could expect in that time. We even had a town hall of sorts and a ruling council, which was more of an excuse for the men to sit around, argue, and drink.
“Our women were the caretakers of the children and the ancestors, and we worshipped our forebears as well as the gods.” He paused. “In fact, we probably stinted in our devotion to the gods and paid more attention to ou
r ancestors.” He glanced at Brandos, who was paying close attention, as he hadn’t heard parts of this story before.
“My mother had the vision, or second sight, as it was called. That made her both revered and feared. As was our custom, she was made to live apart, in a hut on a hill away from the village, but was provided food and other necessities. She was expected to live alone, yet be our eyes into the next world, providing guidance and wisdom.
“She was also to have lived a chaste existence, but as you can see by my presence, that was never the case. She was, by any standard, a beautiful woman and men sought her out.
“She bore three sons. I was the youngest. None of us knew our father—or fathers, for we didn’t know if we shared one. My mother was adamant about never mentioning who he or they might have been.
“In the end, it was the three of us, raised and taught by our mother.” He shifted his weight in his chair, as if speaking of this made him uncomfortable.
If Kaspar was impatient to get to the point, he didn’t show it, merely saying, “Go on.”
“None of us could read—we came to that later. But we all were taught magic by our mother. All three of us inherited some of her gifts, though they manifested in different ways.
“We were all practitioners of what are called the ‘dark arts,’ for my mother was a woman of dark secrets. I suspect her gifts came at a price, perhaps through a compact with dark powers, but I only speculate.
“As a child, I sensed presences, the existence of things I could not see, and longed to call them to me. Nalnar was the first to answer, and while he is not overtly malicious, he has no natural sense of constraint. He injured me severely before I could subdue him. Once I bent him to my service, he became a lifelong companion. I can now summon him with a single word, and his obedience to me is absolute. Of all those I have summoned from the demon realm, he is my most reliable servant.”
“You have others?” asked Kaspar.
“Yes,” said Amirantha. “Several, most of whom are fully controllable.”
“Most?”
“There are a few I have come to dominate lately, but upon whom I will not rely,” said the Warlock, shifting his weight in his chair as if uneasy discussing his craft with another.
Brandos raised his eyebrows and in a semi-mocking tone said, “They tend to try to bite your head off until you get to know them better.”
Kaspar was silent a moment, then said, “This is beyond me. There are some people with whom I need to have you speak, but before then, I would hear the rest of your tale.”
Amirantha let out his breath slowly, as if uncertain what to say next, then shrugged and said, “It’s difficult to know how to explain. We were left to our own devices much of the time; Mother was a little mad, I’m certain, but she was also a woman of remarkable gifts.
“There were three of us, and I was the youngest, as I have said. It may be her madness was passed along to my eldest brother, for he was…different. He became obsessed at an early age with death, or more precisely, the actual moment of death, when life flees, and the meaning of that transition. He would often kill things just to watch them die.
“Our middle brother…he was less mad than our eldest brother, but that didn’t make him sane. He had his own madness, but with him it was rage. He was born angry, and he stayed angry. We used to fight all the time, for he was frightened of our elder brother, and I was the youngest. So I became the target of all his ire. Only my mother prevented him from severely injuring me several times when we were children.
“It is how, ironically, I became a Warlock of Demons. My brother was administering a thrashing and I called to Nalnar to come help me, and he appeared. He’s small, but he can be very nasty when he needs and has enough flame magic to burn down a good-size house if he’s of a mind to. He drove off my brother and left him with a nasty set of scars. That’s when my brother’s hot anger turned to cold hatred.
“He’s been trying to kill me ever since.”
“And other people think they have family problems,” Kaspar said dryly.
Amirantha studied the General for a long moment, then smiled. “It does appear absurd when narrated, doesn’t it?”
“Somewhat, but I have seen many things in the last twenty years, things that before then I would have scoffed at and ridiculed.
“Still,” added Kaspar, “you haven’t gotten to why your family difficulties concern the Kingdom of Muboya.”
“It’s difficult to explain in a short time—”
“Oh, take all the time you need,” said Kaspar, as he glanced through the doorway where his guards stood ready to answer his call. “As much trouble as you’ve caused to gain my attention, it would be foolish of me not to give it to you. After all, if you don’t provide a compelling reason for unleashing that odd little friend of yours in my offices, you’ll have ample time to contemplate your folly chained to the wall of the Maharaja’s dungeon.
“So, please continue,” said Kaspar agreeably.
Amirantha and Brandos exchanged glances, but said nothing to each other. The Warlock said, “After that fight, when Nalnar scared my brother, we three spent as much time apart from one another, and therefore from our mother, as we could manage once we reached a certain age.
“I spent a great deal of my time in caves near our hut, calling up Nalnar and learning as much as I could from him about the demon realm. It took a great deal of luck, frankly. I almost got killed a number of times until I began to puzzle out some sense of how these creatures are, how they respond to being in our realm, what drives them.”
“This is all very interesting,” said Kaspar. “Go on.”
“My brothers meanwhile became immersed in their own areas of…interest. My eldest brother was probably the least talented among us, but the most driven. My other brother had flashes of brilliance, but no discipline. He’s quick to learn, and has mastered many things. I fell somewhere in the middle, I suppose. I am very good at what I do, but what I do is within narrow limits.” He looked at Kaspar. “I really don’t understand much about other types of magic, if you must know.”
“Your brother?” Kaspar prodded.
Amirantha sighed. “I suspect I’m having difficulty coming to the point because I want to acquaint you with just how difficult a task my brother achieved.”
“Which brother?”
“The middle brother, Belasco.”
“Continue.”
Amirantha said, “I say with no false vanity that I know perhaps as much as any man living what there is to know about demons. My knowledge is hardly exhaustive, as I discovered recently when encountering the battle demon my brother conjured into existence instead of the one I was summoning.
“That’s the point of it, my lord Kaspar. Not only did my brother find me—and I have been successfully avoiding him for nearly fifty years—he found me in the middle of a conjuration that should be far beyond his ability to understand, let alone influence. Moreover, he introduced a component to my own magic of which I was unaware at the time, bending it to his will—no small feat alone—and almost got me killed, which I suspect was his goal.
“Here’s the thing: if he has become that powerful he probably could have come up with a far simpler means of disposing of me, say conjuring up a massive ball of flames in the cave, which would certainly have incinerated me before I could have gotten magic wards up to protect me. But instead he chose to kill me in a fashion that was both ironic and insulting. He expected me to recognize at the last instant he was the author of my death, and wanted me to know that he’s now better than I am at my craft.”
Kaspar sighed. “So, your brother hates you and wishes you dead. Hardly an original tale. But we still haven’t reached the point where I need fear for the safety of this Kingdom.”
“The demon my brother conjured into being was of a type I’ve never encountered.”
“So?” asked Kaspar, not seeing any significance.
“By our measure, demons tend to be stupid, or at the
least are not very clever. Their existence is one I can scarcely imagine, and I have more knowledge of them than most men; it’s a lifetime of combat and struggle, and guile serves better than intellect. One hallmark of intellect is reflection, and the idea of a reflective demon is…laughable, really.
“But they can be cunning. The demon I faced was not merely cunning, he was intelligent. Once he saw his usual rage and physical power were ineffective, he changed his approach and began to use magic.”
“I know nothing of demons, but I have heard stories from those who have encountered one in the past,” began Kaspar.
Amirantha looked intrigued. “I would like to speak to them if possible.”
“More than possible,” said Kaspar. “It’s a near certainty, but I’m still not clear on why an intelligent magic-using demon is something I need worry over.”
“There is a demon realm, General, a world apart from our own. I’ve read a few ancient records, but there is no certain knowledge of what that place is like. But we do know a few things. If demons could, they would happily invade our world, for here is an abundance of life that is intoxicating for them, and it is life that is mostly helpless against them. The stoutest warrior I know”—he indicated Brandos—“could keep that demon at bay only for a few moments, just long enough for me to effect its destruction.
“Imagine if you could, a dozen such coming into this palace at one time. I am the most powerful master of demons I have encountered—and there are not many of us in any event—and I could perhaps best two, even three such creatures given perfect circumstances.”
“Life rarely provides perfect circumstances,” offered Brandos.
“Yes,” said Kaspar. “I think I see where this is going.”
“Yes,” said Amirantha. “Imagine now an army of such creatures.”
Thinking of his past encounter with the Dasati Deathknights on the now destroyed world of Kelewan, Kaspar said, “I think I can imagine such.” He sat lost in thought a moment, then asked, “How would you control such an army?”
Amirantha took a deep breath, the rise and fall of his shoulders communicating what he said next. “I have no idea. Perhaps they have rulers, or some sense of loyalty; my dealings with those I have mastered lead me to think everything in their realm is predicated either on power or usefulness; a demon will serve a greater demon rather than be destroyed; a demon will spare a lesser demon if he can be useful. Beyond that I have no notion of how such an army of creatures might be controlled.”
Rides a Dread Legion Page 15
