“There,” he said suddenly.
I looked up, and Discaru, or the demon, or whatever, came hissing and growling toward us. At his heels were a wolf and a dzur. There was no sign of the dog, no sign of the cat, but there was a wolf and there was a dzur.
I turned and stared at the warlock. “Are those—”
“Not now,” he said.
They herded the thing, nipping and scratching at it until it had reached us, then circled it, making sure it couldn’t move. The wolf growled, the dzur hissed, the demon bellowed, Loiosh and Rocza flapped their wings. The warlock stood up and brushed off his cloak, which was the first time I realized that it was silk, and very expensive. He took his time positioning himself in front of the demon. I got up and stood next to him because if there was going to be a party I didn’t want to be left out.
The warlock spoke to the demon, and I have no clue what language it was, but there were a lot of whistles and clicks and rising and falling inflections like singing, and sounds I wasn’t aware the human mouth was capable of.
The demon answered, not sounding happy. They had brief conversation, and the demon turned like it wanted to run, but the wolf and dzur growled and hissed and snapped. Then Laszló raised his hand, palm out, then turned it palm up and slowly formed a fist, muttering under his breath. The demon howled, convulsed, twisted, shrank, and blurred, and then—
“Ah, Discaru,” I said. “How have you been?”
He glared at the warlock. “May you never—”
“Really?” said Laszló, his voice shooting out like a thrown knife. “You’re going to curse me? You are going to curse me?”
Discaru shut up.
“You’re better than me,” I told the warlock.
“Hmmm?”
“You’re a better witch than I am.”
“I’ve been at it a while.”
“I still resent it.”
“I’ve heard you once managed to teleport an object. I mean, with witchcraft.”
“Yeah. What—”
“I’ve never done that.”
“Okay, that helps.”
“Maybe we could trade recipes sometime?”
“Sure.”
I turned to the Athyra, or the demon, as you please. “So, I have some questions for you.”
He suggested I do something that demons might be able to manage, though I’d prefer not to watch.
“Can’t,” I said. “Let’s start with the one that’s really bugging me: are those clothes part of the illusion, or do you create actual clothes when you transform?”
He made another suggestion, one I don’t think even a demon could have managed.
“So, what’s this about? Why did you really bring me here?”
His response was short, but colorful.
“I get part of it,” I said. “You had to bring me here so I couldn’t use my weapon against you, and so I’d draw it and get all the gods pissed off at me. But why kill me? What are you afraid I’ll find out?”
His fourth suggestion disappointed me. “You’re getting less interesting now,” I told him. “How about just answering my question?”
He stood mute, which I guess was an improvement.
“Yeah, well.” I turned to Laszló. “Can you convince him to talk?”
“How?”
“He must feel pain.”
“I won’t do that,” he said. “I have sort of a personal history with that kind of thing and I’ve sworn off it.”
“I guess I get that,” I said, shuddering involuntarily. I hoped neither of them noticed.
I could try it myself. But no.
So many questions he could have answered.
“Boss, if he can get us out of here, he could bring us somewhere that isn’t in that weird building, right?”
“Maybe.”
“You could ask.”
“I could.”
“But you’re not going to, are you?”
“All right, Discaru—is that your real name? Never mind. All right, if you won’t talk, you won’t. What say you bring me back and we’ll pretend none of this ever happened. How does that sound?”
He smirked.
I turned to the warlock. “You sure you don’t torture?”
“I’m sure.”
“Too bad.”
“But if he doesn’t take you back, I’m happy to chain him to the fountain for ten thousand years or so. He wouldn’t like that.”
Discaru stiffened, then said, “I don’t like threats.”
I looked at the wolf, at the dzur, at Laszló, then back to him. “And?”
He gave me a murderous look, then nodded. “All right. I’ll take you back.” He turned and gestured, and the two rocks appeared again. I wondered if all he’d done was turn them invisible, and I could have left anytime. I doubted it was that simple.
“Let’s go, then,” he said.
He took a couple of steps toward the rocks, then, I guess, observed that the wolf and the dzur were gone. I turned back to Laszló, and there were a dog and a cat next to him.
“Um,” I said.
I tried to wrap my head around what had just happened, with only limited success. The cat jumped into his arms.
“Thanks,” I told him.
He bowed, which made it look like the cat was bowing too, which was weird. “Glad to be of help.”
I felt like there was probably more to say, but Discaru was waiting. I saluted Laszló, turned, and followed my demonic leader.
We walked between the stones, and we were once more in a hallway of the house.
He turned and glared at me. “There,” he said.
I drew Lady Teldra. “Yeah. Now, I have some questions.”
He sighed. “How did I not see this coming?”
“It’s not like you could have done anything about it. If you start to transform, I swear by Verra’s sense of humor that I’ll put this weapon through your guts before your forehead drops.”
“Will you really use that thing on me?”
“Gleefully. What are you?”
“You’d call me a demon.”
“Yeah, I got that part. You know, the squat legs, big snout, pink skin with blue splotches? I put that together. Now, what are you?”
“I’m from another world.”
“Right. What world?”
“Depending on the language, we call it ‘ground’ or ‘the world’ or ‘home’ or ‘dirt.’ Does that help?”
“Are you trying to piss me off?”
He looked down the length of Lady Teldra, then said, “Probably not a good idea, I guess.”
“I see you come from a people capable of learning. What does your race call yourselves?”
“Our term for ourselves translates to ‘those who think.’”
I sighed.
“All right, tell me this, then. Why are you trying to keep me from finding out anything? What’s the big deal?”
“I’m carrying out Zhayin’s wishes.”
“Oh, a demon thing?”
“Actually, no. He could have bound me. You know that, right?”
“Right. That’s what it means to be a demon.”
“Yeah. But he didn’t. We’re friends. He helped me once, long ago. So he asked for my help, and I agreed. That’s all. Does it surprise you that I could have a human friend?”
I chose not to comment on what “human” means. I said, “No. I have a friend who’s a demon. Well, he’s called the Demon, he isn’t really one. And he isn’t a friend, he’s more of an enemy. But anyway. What is it that you so desperately want me not to find out?”