As he chanted the summoning spell for Estrebrius, he reflected on what he had seen going on outside. It was hard to see through the wards, but he had eventually adjusted his wizard sight for a clear view of the events that were about to occur. He had been floored, could not believe what he was seeing. Fortunately, by the end of the evening, the black market had bootlegged scryings of the event for sale and he had been able to watch it over and over again throughout the night. And thus, in the wee hours of the night, he formed his plan.
“Estrebrius, I command you come forth!” He released a handful of sulfur into the brazier, causing a large flash. And there the demon was, standing in the pentacle as usual, although he was looking a bit sickly, Vaselle thought.
“Master,” the demon bowed slightly unsteadily.
“Why are you so wobbly, Estrebrius?” Vaselle asked, rather concerned. It was odd to be concerned about a demon’s health, but Estrebrius had always been a very reliable demon. He clearly was not well.
“I am sorry, Master. Yesterday I was overcome by a compulsion to flee the city.” Vaselle nodded and waved to the demon that he understood and was not mad. “And once outside the city, I was overtaken by some scoundrels on a flying boat who shot me out of the sky and proceeded to turn me into a pincushion, forcing me back to the Abyss.” The fiend shrugged. “Unfortunately, I’m still recovering.”
“Hmm, sorry to hear about that. Very unfortunate. I won’t keep you long, but I do need your assistance.” Estrebrius looked at him, a bit confused by the apparent contradiction. “Are you aware of the battle yesterday between Sir Talarius of the Rod and an extremely powerful demon, who in the end defeated the knight?”
Estrebrius blinked in surprise at the question and then nodded. “I saw a bit of it, and naturally everyone in the Abyss is talking about it.”
Vaselle nodded, pleased. “Are you familiar with the demon champion? Do you know him?”
Estrebrius looked at his accursed master in surprise. “Uhm, no, no one really knows who he is. No one had seen him before yesterday, or very few. There are lots of liars in the Abyss, so it’s hard to know for sure.”
Vaselle frowned; that was inconvenient. “Hmm, so this may take you a while. I need you to locate this demon, reach out to him and get me in contact with him.”
Estrebrius made a choking noise and seemed to almost jump in his pentacles. “Master, are you serious?”
“Very,” Vaselle confirmed.
“You understand this demon must be at least an archdemon, if not a Prince. It’s really not a good idea to attract the attention of such a being.” Estrebrius sounded incredulous, as if Vaselle had lost his mind. Perhaps he had, the conjuror thought to himself. However, after yesterday, he knew in his bones that this was the right course.
“I understand that, but I need to meet with this demon. I believe I can offer him something of great interest and it would be most worth his while to grant me an audience.”
Estrebrius stared at his accursed master. “My Lord, master,” he finally said, “I really must advise against this. It can only lead to pain and death for both of us. This demon is thousands of years old and has remained a complete mystery over all that time. That requires a tremendous amount of cunning and almost unimaginable shielding power. Plus, he’s tied to a number of other archdemons, the Rod, the Oorstemothians; you’d be safer to walk into the very Abyss than to have so much as a whisper with this demon!”
Vaselle took his demon’s warnings very seriously; they were thoughts he had had himself. However, he had steeled himself for this. He would be strong. He shook his head. “I’m afraid I must do this, Estrebrius. I command you by your true name to obey me and locate, contact and act as my emissary to this demon.”
Estrebrius looked almost desperate. “Please master, don’t do this. You are a very great master, wise and powerful, and I am honored to be your humble servant, but this is a most dangerous course of action. Please reconsider!”
Vaselle shook his head again. “No, demon. Obey me. Locate this demon for me, and arrange contact!”
Estrebrius bowed his head, feeling the wizard’s spells urging him to obey. “Very well, master.”
Randolf rolled over on his side and caressed Crispin’s face in the late morning light. Their morning love session had been as magical as ever, perhaps even sweeter now that Exador’s undoing seemed to be underway. He mentally reached out to his wardings around the room, ensuring they were still secure. He was not concerned about the privacy of making love with his catamite; that was an open secret. It was their conversations that needed to be secure.
“New day, new perspective!” Randolf grinned at Crispin.
The youth grinned back. “Don’t get your hopes up yet. It’s too early,” he said, massaging Randolf’s side. “I know how you want this charade to end, but until we are sure Exador is completely exposed and discredited as a human, the masquerade must continue.”
Randolf rolled onto his back and sighed. “I know, I know. But I’ve lived my entire life as someone I am not. I want to be me and not Randolf the Second, Exador’s Arch-Toady!”
“Well, unlike your father or grandfather, you may get a chance to escape the role your line has been forced to play to protect Turelane,” Crispin said, rolling onto his own back.
“It’s a shame you couldn’t see the balling,” Randolf noted, “It was fantastic. It totally upended the playing field. I have to believe Exador was near shitting himself on that carpet near the end.”
“You may thank your esteemed fellow councilors for my hasty departure yesterday morning. I was almost blasted back to Djinnistan!” Crispin shook his head. “Fortunately, their spell was directed at demons and other extra-planar individuals. The other extra-planar part is what saved me, I think. I would hate to have been a demon subject to that spell! Even after they turned off the overt expulsion part, the general compulsion gave me a headache until I eventually figured out how to counter it.”
“And I assume that’s why you weren’t back when I had to leave for the meeting?” Randolf asked.
Crispin raised his arm to give Randolf a thumbs-up from beside him on the large pillow-topped bed. “My master’s wisdom is as deep as the waters in the sea!” Crispin giggled.
Randolf rolled over on top of Crispin, his forearms propping him up above the lad. “You boy, need to quit with the sarcasm before I stuff you back in your bottle!” Randolf pretended to snarl before breaking down into laughter.
Crispin laughed as well. “How many times do I have to tell you, it’s a lamp! Not a stupid bottle! Men have lamps, women have bottles!”
“Bottle this!” Randolf’s mouth covered Crispin’s and their laughter was lost to their lust.
Chapter 85
Hilda stood at the edge of the still dewy clearing, gnawing on her burnt, crusty and cold breakfast cake, about four hours after dawn. Not that she needed to eat the damaged baked good; she never needed to eat, it was really more stress relief. She could not actually gain or lose weight as a saint. Saints generally looked exactly the same for all eternity, short of some strange event. In some ways this was convenient in that she had never had much luck losing weight when she was alive; she had been on what seemed like a lifelong diet. Now she could eat whatever she wanted and not gain any weight. However, that also took a lot of the pleasure out of it. No more sense of being “bad” and cheating on her diet.