II
“Should we ask Cyrus for his help?” asked Elerius. “He’s certainly had experience dealing with a demon.” He paused. “I never have.”
We both looked toward Cyrus. The Dog-Man, the miracle-worker with the key to the city of Caelrhon, the failed seminary student, was huddled in on himself: a broken man without the demon who had long accompanied him. “Not unless we think we could pass off his soul in trade,” I said in disgust. “But at this point I doubt even the devil would want it if it wasn’t long since his.”
“You and me, then,” said Elerius, and we started down the passage toward the ruined chapel. Antonia reluctantly accompanied us, holding both our hands. Either one of us could have sent the demon back to hell at once since it was already imprisoned in a pentagram, but we needed Antonia to start the conversation if we were going to try to negotiate.
At the last minute Cyrus looked up and rose to slink along behind us, but he had the good sense to stop well short of the chapel. A hundred reasons why it would be much better to put this off struck me, but I kept on walking, teeth tight together to keep them from chattering. Knowing the feeling of raw terror was about to strike made it no easier when it did.
The chapel was pitch black, even though outside the windows it was now early morning. The only light came from the demon himself. He was alive, glowing, yet essentially motionless. Our feet slowed and dragged as we crossed the room toward the pentagram. Antonia faced the demon squarely, visibly struggling to keep from sobbing again. He gave her a wide and evil grin, as if she were a dainty morsel he was about to consume.
“By Satan, by Beelzebub,” she brought out between trembling lips, and my heart wrenched to hear her have to say it, “by Lucifer and Mephistopheles.”
At these words of summons he abruptly became twice as alive, twisting in a veil of smoke within the pentagram. “I am yours to obey, Antonia,” he said pleasantly-or his best attempt. “What can I bring you? What enemies of yours can I destroy?”
“I don’t want anything,” she said stubbornly, keeping her eyes on the floor. “But you have to talk to these wizards.”
Not quite the language recommended by the Diplomatica Diabolica, but it would do. “Quick, get back to your mother,” I whispered, giving her a push.
“But I have to help you, Wizard,” she whispered back, retreating only a short distance. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Theodora half way down the corridor and motioned to her.
But before I could make sure Antonia was well on her way the demon spoke again. And he spoke to me.
“Daimbert, what a surprise! Are you back to take me up on some of the offers you rejected last time we met?”
The final scraps of my courage vanished. Just as I had feared. Thousands of demons in hell, and Antonia had summoned this one. Maybe Yurt was his territory just as it was mine.
The demon fixed me with a malevolent eye. “Before we begin,” he said conversationally in his high voice, “you’ll have to let me out of this pentagram so I can work for you. I can take your soul, of course, if you’d like to hand it over, but I assume you’ll want some benefits in return? I thought so. They usually do.”
“No ‘benefits,’ Demon,” I said harshly, trying to make myself furious because it was the only alternative to abject terror. “You’re staying right there until we’ve finished negotiating.”
“But I know someone who would like something from me,” said the demon coyly-or as coyly as something red and bulging could manage. “Antonia,” he called, “come erase the pentagram, even just a single chalk mark as you did before, and I’ll bring you something you’ll really like. Haven’t you always wanted to see a dragon?”
“A dragon? Really?” She turned and took half a step toward us, then looked fully at the enormous mouth and fiery eyes and raced up the passage toward her mother.
I let my breath out all at once and had trouble catching it again. A good thing this demon didn’t have experience trying to be tempting to little girls while trapped inside a pentagram.
“We have come to bargain with you,” I said as firmly as I could. “Let us begin with non-binding conversation.” I glanced toward Elerius, wondering when he was going to add something, and saw him trembling hard. In some ways that was the most terrifying thing I had seen yet.
“Non-binding conversation,” agreed the demon good-naturedly, showing a remarkable number of pointed teeth. “That way you can ask me for whatever you want without worrying about the results.” This was actually not accurate, but the Diplomatica Diabolica did make it clear that one was less likely to be tricked by a demon if the conversation had been declared non-binding.
“You say you want to negotiate,” continued the demon, “but you have, I fear, caught me in a position of weakness.” He gestured at the pentagram with an enormous hand. “You see me imprisoned here. If you and all your friends just walked away, I wouldn’t be able to play any of my little tricks that seem to annoy you so much, I wouldn’t be able to whisper suggestions in Antonia’s ear, and, in short, you could forget I even existed! So your coming around talking of negotiations suggests you’d actually like something from the devil but are just too shy to ask.”
“Not at all,” I said sternly. So far, so good. The temptation to leave him in the ruined chapel and run lasted for only a second. “You know you’d like nothing better than to be left right here.” I glanced surreptitiously at the pentagram; it appeared well-drawn, without flaws. “Sooner or later the chalk would wash away, or dry up and blow away, or someone would come exploring the castle and break the chalk lines without realizing the danger. Leaving you here would only postpone the problem-or make it a hundred times worse if we had to chase you and capture you. I’m not going to walk away and leave you here, and I’m not going to let you out. And I’m also not going to ask you for favors in this world.”
“If you keep on rejecting what I could offer you before I even offer it,” said the demon with a flash of fire from his eyes, “you risk getting nothing at all!”
“Fine,” I said shortly. “I only want Antonia’s safety.”
The negotiations seemed to have begun. “Now, you claim to want no benefits from me,” said the demon, settling himself comfortably in the center of the pentagram, “but you and I both know that’s not true. You’d like to be a better wizard, you’d like to find a way to combine marriage to a witch with continued association in organized wizardry-and, oh yes, I don’t want to forget, you’d like some assurance that your daughter has not yet ‘lost’ her soul, as your so-called religion so quaintly puts it.” He grinned evilly. “This sounds to me like a lot to expect in return for one soul that’s already fairly well stained!”
It was better not to ask how a demon gained knowledge about someone. “You’re starting from the wrong assumptions,” I said roughly. “I don’t want-” I stumbled over the words and started again. “I wouldn’t want any of the rest if I only had it because of you. All I want is the assurance that you have given up any hold over Antonia.”
“That sweet little girl will make an especially tasty mouthful for the devil,” said the demon, licking his lips in anticipation. “Why should I assure you of anything of the sort? After all, she summoned me herself and has already asked for a very large favor. Don’t tell me you think she’s not capable of making her own choices!”
Not yet, she wasn’t, I told myself desperately. She was still only five. And that the demon had tried to tempt her further, with an offer to see a dragon, suggested that he had at least some doubts himself.
Either that or he was toying with me.
“You are not entitled to her soul, Demon,” I said with as much confidence as I could muster, “and you and I both know it.” The room grew slowly but steadily hotter as we talked. “Don’t interrupt! Three reasons. First, she is well short of the age of reason, which is seven, and therefore cannot yet damn herself by her own actions. Secondly, she may have asked a single rather simple favor of you, but it was from the purest motives: she wanted to save another mortal. And third, if she ‘sold’ her soul to you she didn’t get what she wanted in return, for Cyrus is as thoroughly damned as ever.”