He sighed. “Is there any indication that you might have noticed of a daemonist at work, Sage Lhiewyn? Or of a hell gate?”
“No, Kluge. Just a shit demon in a cesspit.”
“That no one else sees.”
“I’ve got hemorrhoids older than you, Kluge. If you’re trying to be a noticeable pain in my ass, you’ll have to work a lot harder at it.”
His beer arrived. He put it back in three long swallows and stood up.
“Let's have a look, then.”
Back to the cesspit we went.
“THAT IS, INDEED, A cesspit.” Kluge had been staring at it for a goodly amount of time. I’d’ve given him a verbal poking, but I suspected he was using his magesight, not just trying to appear contemplative. “There’s a general sort of corruption that registers, as it were, but I can’t say more than that, as I can’t see more than that.” He frowned.
“The stercore demonium is polymorphous,” I informed him.
He just kept staring into the pit.
“That means-”
“I know what the hells it means, Lhiewyn, thank you.” He turned to Lund. “You can’t burn this excrement?”
“No, it goes into the incinerator and comes out just the same.”
“Have you tried to burn the excrement in the pit itself?”
“No. Why would we? The incinerator is the whole point, as it were. Much more efficient.”
“Have you got any lamp oil, master Lund?”
Lund scratched at the bush on his head. “I don’t know. I could take a look.”
“Please do.” Kluge turned back to me. “If there is a demon, what do you advise we do, Sage Lhiewyn?”
“Exorcise it. Banish the fucker. Send it back to hells.”
“Do you happen to know how to do that?”
“As it happens, I do.”
“And how did you come by this knowledge?”
“I read it in a book, once.”
He gave me a sort of dead-eyed stare, then closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with an impressive fierceness. “Right. So fighting it is the order of the day.”
“That’s an awful idea, Kluge.”
“It wouldn’t be my first demon, Lhiewyn.”
“It wouldn’t be your first awful idea either. But it would be your first shit demon, I’m willing to wager.”
“Why would that make a difference?”
“Just because it hasn’t got fangs and a barbed tail doesn’t mean it isn’t dangerous. You’re used to physical confrontation; stab things, burn things, find the heart and make it stop beating. But it doesn’t have a heart. You can’t cut it in half. You can’t burn it. Best you send it back where it came from. That way nobody gets hurt. Hopefully.”
“If it’s there at all.”
Just then Lund came jogging back with a bottle half full of lamp oil. “This is all we have at the site.”
“It will do for a test, thank you.” Kluge took the bottle, uncorked it and poured the contents into the pit. Then he dug a scrap of paper out of his pocket. He lit it with a snap of his fingers and dropped it directly onto the lamp oil still floating visibly on top of the sewage. It ignited at once, sending up black, greasy smoke into the afternoon air.
After a moment there was the smallest of shudders across the surface of the cesspit’s contents. Then a wave formed in the middle of the pit, tiny at first. It raced toward the burning oil, growing swiftly larger as it went, and it crashed down on the fire like a breaker at the beach. Shit-spray was flung high into the sky. It came down in tiny droplets, as a brown sprinkle. Like a summer rain shower of shit water. A gentle, excremental rain. Not one of us gathered around stayed wholly dry.
There was a moment of perfect silence. Then it was broken by Jessep, who let out an earnest gagging sound. His whole body shuddered in revulsion.
I wiped a drop off of the end of my nose and said “I hope you’re fucking satisfied now, Kluge.”
He tried to look dignified, which was difficult with all the shit-spatter. “I’m satisfied there’s something in there. I’m not satisfied that an exorcism, or banishment, that you’ve never actually performed is the best way to deal with it.”
“Gorm on a stick. You are a stubborn fuck. I need to sit down.”
“That’s an excellent idea, Revered. Might I suggest you sit down a safe distance away? Say, back at the Street of the Gods?”
“Oh, no. You’re not getting rid of me that easily. I’m looking forward to seeing this.”
Lund brought a chair out from the ramshackle office and placed it under a tree at the edge of the work site. I sent Jessep back to the Dripping bucket for dinner and something to drink, and settled in to watch the show.
IT’S NOT THAT KLUGE is incompetent. He isn’t. He’s a decent officer of the law, not corrupt, a middling mage, and I’m quite sure that he’s brought many bad people to justice.
I’m equally sure he’s put many innocent bastards in Havelock prison, because once he’s decided he’s right about something, it is well-nigh fucking impossible to get him to change his mind. I wasn’t going to try and change his mind. I was going to watch him fail, hopefully spectacularly, and rub his nose in it afterwards. If he survived.
Someone once said that no one with class says “I told you so.” I’d bet whoever said it was an asshole who never fucking listened and consequently got told “I told you so” all the time.
Kluge marked out some magely circle all around the cesspit, using a dagger and, periodically, his own spit. It was a big pit. It took a long time. More of the watch showed up; I don’t know when he sent for them, but he had a dozen now, and two of the new ones had bargepoles maybe fifteen feet long. Once he’d finished his circle, he spent a long time muttering over the poles.
“Oh, yes, big sticks!” I shouted. “You’ll have that demon trounced in no time! Go the Watch!” I clapped vigorously. Kluge ignored me.
I might have had a fair amount of wine by that point. Jessep put a hand on my shoulder.
“Master, It’s getting late. Maybe we should go back to the temple.”
“Oh, no. I’m not missing this shit-show. Heh. Shit-show. Damn me, but I’m clever even when I’m half drunk.”
It was getting late, though. Jessep was right about that. Khoe Lund had his workers light torches all around the area. There was no gaslight in Loathewater. Kluge finally stopped muttering over his sticks and called his men around him to issue instructions. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but two of the men looked decidedly unhappy about their part in his plan. Sure enough, they were the ones who picked up the barge poles and walked to the far side of the cesspit, careful not to step on or otherwise mar Kluge’s circle.
“Ha, look at ‘em!” I told Jessep. “If their faces were any longer they’d be tripping over their chins. ‘S what they get for working for a stone-stubborn bastard who’s convinced he’s always right!”
I glanced at the boy. He was staring at me, and his eyebrow was creeping up to his hairline.
“Whatever you want to say right now, boy, don’t. In fact, don’t even think it.”
“Oh, too late, master. That ship has sailed.”
I scowled at him. “Shut up and watch the show. In fact, help me over to where the idiot is standing. I want to get a good look.”
Jessep sighed, but knew better than to argue.
The two long-faces had taken up their positions at the far side of the cesspit. Kluge was at the opposite end, the rest of his men spread out behind him in a skirmish line. They had their short swords drawn, and they’d scared up some little half-shields from somewhere. Kluge himself was empty-handed, which of course didn’t mean that he was unarmed. I took a position behind all of them, Jessep on one side and Khoe Lund, wringing his hands, on the other.
“Begin,” Kluge called out.
The two unfortunates stuck their now-glowing poles into the cess, started stirring, and slowly made their way towards their boss, going on opposite sides of the pit from each other. I sup
pose they were acting as beaters in a hunt, driving the prey towards the huntsman – in this case, Kluge.
They got about five feet.
The creature rose up out of the cesspit, vaguely humanoid and at least ten feet tall, from its waist to the top of its lumpy noggin. It was distinguishable from its lair only by the fact that it had a torso, arms, and a head.
Said head opened its maw. Out of the maw issued an ear-splitting scream, and a fountain of sewage that bathed the two watchmen who'd been prodding the cesspit with barge poles. Well, sort of the opposite of bathed, actually. Literally the opposite. Enfilthened? It poured out, back and forth between the two with enough force to bowl them over.
“Kluge,” I called out, not tearing my eyes away from the spectacle.
“Revered?”
“Those men. That stench they're covered in; it's not going to wash off. You might consider assigning them to patrol Goat Island.”
He sighed. “Goat Island is uninhabited speck of land the size of a pimple in the middle of the bay.”
“Exactly.”
The demon stopped vomiting on the watchmen and disappeared back into the cesspit with a thunderous plop.
Kluge muttered a curse, then gestured at the cesspit. “All right, Lhiewyn. What about that thing?”
“Well, it's not coming out of its own accord, and I doubt you get any volunteers to go in after it. I need to go back to the temple.”
“For your nap?” Jessep asked. Hope springs eternal.
“For a book, dimwit. One from the restricted section. Maybe two. Possibly three.” Though I could have used a nap sure enough.
“Are you sure you can exorcise that thing?” Kluge asked.
“No, I’m not sure. But I am sure my plan has a better chance of success than yours.”
“It will take some time to go back to the temple and return here,” Jessep said.
“So? Are you worried it’ll go on a rampage while we’re gone? Well don’t be. Does that thing look like it wants to go anywhere?”
A WATCHMAN TOOK US back to the temple in one of their carriages, and waited while I got what we would need.
Jessep unlocked the door and I gave him the key to the restricted section. “Be a good lad and open it up. I need to piss.” Carriages are brutal on bladders, and I hadn’t held back on the wine.
I returned from my cell a few minutes later, carrying a bag with odds and ends we would need in addition to the books. Jessep had lit the lanterns in the restricted section, which was essentially a cage in the back of the temple, and was waiting for me.
“What have you got there, master?” he asked, indicating the bag.
“Show you in a minute. First the books.” I took out my keyring and selected the one for the demonology section. Most of it was trash and nonsense, but there was periodically some would-be master of the dark art trying to shove forbidden knowledge down his shirt-front and walk out of the temple. So, trash or not, it was all kept in a locked case in the restricted section.
The Kharthrd folio was not trash or nonsense. It was perhaps the most extensive collection of demon lore in existence, and it included the banishment rite that we were going to attempt. Best of all, no supernatural power was required to enact the rite. You didn’t have to be a mage or a witch to perform it. It was one of the few remedies for demons that the ordinary punter could use.
The only problem with it was that you had to make physical contact with the demon during the exorcism.
That generally put people off of trying to use it.
The other book I took out of the restricted section was orders of magnitude more powerful. I debated with myself before plucking out the key and inserting it into the hidden groove in the floor. But if things went wrong, I needed an alternative.
The Hymns were the most powerful magic ever trapped in book form. In the wrong hands, it could level cities. It could unmake entire races. If you knew how to read it.
I turned the key and a portion of the floor drew back with a muted grinding of stone. Jessep gave a low whistle.
In the small recessed area revealed, lay a small, book-like shape, wrapped in an old cloth. I bent down with difficulty and retrieved it. I unwrapped it, and a soft, warm light shone out. Satisfied it hadn’t been stolen and replaced with a fake, I wrapped it back up and stuffed it in my traveling bag.
“What is that?” Jessep asked.
“None of your business is what that is.” I pulled out a jar from the bag and handed it to him. “This is more your rating. Demon vomit repellent. Can’t have an assistant who smells like an outhouse for the rest of his life.”
He opened the jar and took a sniff, then gave me a severely dubious look. “This’s just your arthritis balm. I know how your arthritis balm smells.”
“Wrong! It was my arthritis balm, until I, a high priest, said the words contained in this book over it.” I pulled out a third book from the bag, and held it up. “A powerful incantation from the God Wars.”
“You’re serious.”
“I don’t make the metaphysical rules, son. I just take advantage of ‘em.”
“Let me see that book,” he said, reaching for it. I stuffed it back in my bag.
“No time, let’s get going. You can put that stuff on in the carriage. And try not to use it all; I just bought that jar last week.”
NOTHING MUCH HAD CHANGED at the cesspit while we’d been gone. Kluge was still looking sour and put-upon. Lund was still scratching at his noggin like he had the mange. The various members of the watch still stood around looking listless and dim-witted, as they did everywhere, every day, doing nothing useful and getting paid for it. Except for the two who’d been spewed upon. They’d managed to clean up, but the stench remained. They’d been exiled to the edge of the work site, where they were sitting on a log. Someone’d taken pity on them and brought them large quantities of beer. They were getting professionally drunk. I grunted. There wasn’t a keg deep enough to drown their sorrows, as far as I could imagine, but I honestly couldn’t fault them for trying.
Jessep stood next to me, slathered from head to toe with my arthritis balm. He glistened in the torchlight. He’d gone from deep skepticism to desperate belief once I’d told him what we’d have to do to banish the demon. I’d had to dissuade him from applying it directly onto his eyeballs. Give the lad credit, he did offer it to me first, but there was real relief on his face when I told him high priests were immune to the demon’s curse. He’d left the jar in the carriage, thoroughly empty.
“Welcome back, Revered,” said Kluge.
“Piss off,” I replied. “Jessep, are you ready?”
“Not even a little.”
“That’s the spirit.” I took my chain of office off, the severed knot symbol of Lagna flashing in the torchlight, and handed it to him. It was gold and gem-encrusted, and tacky as all hells, but when you’re the high priest of the god of knowledge, it’s really rather expected that you wear it. Also, it was worth a lot of money, and around my neck was the safest place I could think to keep it. I’d hawk it in a second if the temple needed the cash.
“Now you’ll need to hold this up high for me with one hand, and hold me up with the other. My cane’d be useless in there, and I’ll need both hands for the book and the passes I’ll have to make in any case. Is that clear?
“Hold up the necklace. Hold up the old codg- uh, old man. Yes.”
I pulled the bag off my shoulder, took the Kharthrd folio out of it, and held the bag out to Kluge.
“Make yourself useful. Don’t lose it, and don’t go snooping around in it either.” The last thing I needed was somebody with half a brain trying to read the Hymns.
“Happy to be of use,” he said, sounding anything but. “Do you want to explain what you’re about to do?”
“I’m about to banish a demon, or did you forget?”
“Yes, but how?”
“Do you want me to explain it, or do you want me to do it?”
I interpreted the grinding
of his teeth as permission to begin.
“Alright then. Lower me in, Jessep.”
“Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, it’s not hurting anyone that I can see. It just wants to swim around in its feces pool. Live and let live?”
“All valid points. But you missed one crucial fact.”
“I did?”
“Yes. It made me miss my nap. Help me down, son.”
He did.
LET IT BE KNOWN THAT words cannot express how much I did not enjoy having raw sewage lapping at my balls. Also let it be known that this is the first, last, and only time I ever intend to mention it. At any rate, soon enough there we both were in the middle of a cesspit, carping at each other, the lad’s eyebrow trying to crawl back to the nape of his neck. Getting Jessep incensed at me had given the boy ire and distraction enough to make it out to the center of the cesspit, but now he and I had to face the real threat.
“Enough jabbering,” I said. “We’re out far enough, I think. Give me the book, and hold the necklace up high, now. And by all the dead gods, don’t let me fall. Drowning in a cesspit is about the most embarrassing way to go I can think of.”
Jessep passed the book to me, took firm hold of my upper arm, and raised my chain of office high. If it shook a bit, well, who could blame him? I opened the Kharthrd folio to the appropriate page.
The banishment rite was written in Kantic, but really it was a phonetic transliteration of a much older language. Some might call it the original language, though that wouldn’t be correct. Others might call it the language of the gods, but that’d be wrong, too, for different reasons. The important thing was that it would open up a portal to the eleven hells. A one-way portal, thank fuck. And if the shit demon let me finish reciting it, it would force the thing back to the particular hell it came from. I didn’t give it great odds; I’d have to get through three densely-packed pages.
I started to read it aloud.
For the first half-page, not a damned thing happened. Then Jessep gave a little gasp. I glanced up from the book. Before us, maybe five or six yards away, the air had begun to... shiver, I suppose, would be the word.
The Last God Page 2
