It is strange, Eligor thought, to see my lord like this. So deep in thought and yet not exactly brooding. Eligor's mind wandered back to the events of recent days and he realized that Sargatanas had more than enough upon which to reflect. Certainly their treatment in Dis was disappointing and redolent of darker implications. But Dis had brought unexpected rewards as well; Lilith had surprised them all. The imminent war with Astaroth, too, was something to address, something that always took much planning, albeit with the general staff. And then there was that soul, Eligor remembered, that insolent female soul. What had she stirred up? She had obviously affected his lord, though why Eligor could not be sure. Never had he been so happy to see a soul so transformed.
Sargatanas shifted his torso and Eligor saw him trace Valefar's sigil in the air. It was the first real action the Demon Major had taken in days, and Eligor felt something ineffable in the pit of his stomach. There was a decisiveness in the movement that contrasted with Sargatanas' earlier seeming lethargy.
Whether he had been concerned for his master and waiting outside the vast chamber or he had used other occult means, Valefar appeared at the arcades startlingly quickly. Walking briskly, resplendent in tissue-thin embroidered skins, he climbed the steps to the dais three at a time and bowed deeply, formally, before Sargatanas. He, too, seemed to sense something.
Eligor stood closer to the throne than the Guard and always heard his lord's conversations. He thought of it as a privilege of rank.
"Prime Minister," Sargatanas said, staring fixedly into Valefar's eyes, "I have no stomach for it anymore."
"I know, Lord," said Valefar softly. "It was that soul, was it not?"
"She made me see them all as ... people."
Valefar was silent.
"Before that moment, Valefar, they were nothing. I resented them and, because of that, I used them. As we all did. But now, when I pull back after all of these many eons, I see with clarity what this place is ... and how I cannot endure it, as I see it now, any longer." He paused. "It is time for change, time to make a stand. Time to do instead of dream."
"My lord?"
"The incessant wars. Old Astaroth upon our border, hungry and desperate. What will happen when we destroy his legions as we surely will? Nothing. We will appropriate his broken wards, rebuild them with uncounted souls, and return to our complacency. Hell will not change. And neither will we; we will still be here, exiled, punished ... rejected."
"Rejected?"
"By Those Above."
"That is our lot."
"For how long? Eternity? When will the Fallen have had enough punishment?"
There was silence and Eligor worked at the question in his own mind. "For some," Valefar said with no irony, "there can never be enough punishment."
"And what of us? We are not like the others—like Beelzebub and the rest. Must we share their fate forever?"
Valefar returned Sargatanas' gaze and for a moment said nothing. Eligor held his breath.
"What you are suggesting cannot be done. We cannot go back."
"I would try," Sargatanas said evenly. "I do not know if we can or not—if accepting our responsibility in the War is enough. Or if pleading our remorse can absolve us. I do not know, Valefar. I do know that I cannot live in this place, as it is—under the Fly—and that I would destroy all this, this palace, this city, this world, and myself as well, if only to look upon His Face again for an instant."
Sargatanas rose. He described the sigils of the Barons Zoray and Faraii in the air before him, sending them on their way with a dismissive twitch of his hand.
Valefar approached him and, to Eligor's surprise, embraced the Demon Major. He then dropped to one knee.
"My lord, my friend, let me be your fiery right hand, your burning torch to light your way back. And to flame the very streets of Dis, if need be."
"I would have it no other way, Valefar."
Eligor walked before the two demons and sank to his knees as well.
"Lord, I, too, have heard all that you have said. I would be your left hand and, in it, the uncleavable shield that protects you."
Sargatanas, smiling, bade them both stand.
"We have many preparations. As of this moment, we must regard ourselves as a state apart in this world. A renegade state. Therefore, Prime Minister, I need you to go quietly and quickly to the Lesser Lords Andromalius and Bifrons and bring them here. As my clients they will have no choice but to come. And no choice but to support me."
And to Eligor he said, "Henceforth, in this new time, you and your Guard will have to add secret police to your list of many tasks. I must know of the shifting thoughts of those closest to my throne. As seemingly unimpeachable as my inner circle is, no one is safe from corruption."
Valefar bowed and withdrew, and Eligor nodded, resuming his station just behind Sargatanas. As Eligor watched the figure of the Prime Minister diminish across the wide floor, he saw the distant, fiery-headed forms of the demons Faraii and Zoray emerge from the arcades. It would be interesting, Eligor thought, to watch their reactions to his master's plans. As it would all of Hell's.
Chapter Twelve
DIS
For the first time that any demon could remember, Algol could be seen during the day in Hell's troubled sky, blazing bright and luminous. Like a blood-filmed eye, Adramalik thought, staring out from his window in the uppermost level of the Keep. What did the Watchdog look down upon that engendered such anger?
The Chancellor General looked out at his city far below. Normally dark and lit only by patches of spontaneous random fires, it now looked painted with blood. Algol's furious brush had daubed the roofs, the streets, the statues, the many-spired, huge edifices, and even the Keep itself in red. A world bathed in the blood of its souls. That, he thought, would be a more perfect world.
He found the vivid light beautiful, evocative, an artifact of the star so compelling that he sat on the window-ledge until Algol set. The city returned to its former self, dark and mysterious, its shades of black cloaking the horrors that he had helped create.
ADAMANTINARX-UPON-THE-ACHERON
Eligor, too, watched the star set as he waited for Baron Faraii to join him. Its remarkable fading light turned the Acheron into a shimmering red snake sinuously meandering through the city. He looked down at the bricks of the dome's parapet upon which he sat and saw a half-dozen souls' eyes staring out, the ruddy light reflected sharply in their glassy surface. What were they thinking?
Eligor heard the distant flapping of wings and saw one of his patrols circling high above him. Evidence of what Sargatanas had called a heightened readiness. He turned and cast his eyes up at the enormous dome behind him. Giant braziers were inset into its curving, otherwise smooth wall, spaced evenly around and reminiscent of the flaming coronet that sometimes encircled Sargatanas' head. At the moment, Eligor noted, they were an ineffective light source against the last rays of Algol.
The Baron was late, something that had been happening more and more frequently in the course of their meetings. Eligor wondered if there was some significance to this, whether it indicated a growing unwillingness on the Baron's part to continue their discussions about his travels. He valued the talks, realizing at that moment just how much he would miss them if they ended. The Baron was a vivid storyteller and his wanderings made for compelling listening, but more than that, Eligor found the demon's enigmatic personality fascinating. Faraii had proven himself time and again in the hundreds of wars he had fought in for Sargatanas; his weapons-skill and ferocity were unmatched and did not go unnoticed. Eventually, because of his indisputable prowess, his lord had seen fit to commission Faraii to create a special unit of shock troops composed of the most intimidating of Sargatanas' newly fashioned legionaries. But, even with this honor, Faraii rarely spoke of his battlefield exploits, and this only lent more luster to Eligor's opinion of him. Unconsciously Eligor clutched his vellum notebook and bone pen a bit tighter, as if they, too, might cease to be, along with the meetings.