He had seen death before, had lost those for whom he cared, but his coping mechanism had always hinged on the fact that they had always been fated to die before him. He realized with bitter self-loathing that this had been a facile attitude, no reason why he shouldn’t care. In Miranda he had come to know a woman of stunning abilities, magic knowledge that rivalled Pug’s and dwarfed his own. Moreover, she had been long-lived, older than he by a century, despite looking no older than middle-aged. She could have expected another century or more, yet she died suddenly in a brutal and bloody fashion before those around her could help.
Nothing else in his life had made Amirantha more aware of the fragility of life than that instant. None of them, not Pug, Magnus, himself or the other magic users of considerable ability, could have reacted quickly enough to keep her alive. It was like watching someone drown as you stood helpless on the shore.
The memory left a sick feeling in the warlock’s stomach that had lingered. It had been a year since the event, and he still felt as if he should have been able to do something, for he was the warlock, he was the master of demons.
A stirring caused him to turn, and he saw Sandreena standing behind him. He started to rise, and she pushed his shoulder, forcing him back down. Trying to regain his poise, he said, ‘If you’re going to hit me again, please don’t. I’m really very tired of picking myself up off the floor.’
She smiled a sad smile and softly said, ‘Sorry. You bring out the worst in me.’
He tilted his head slightly, and said, ‘It’s a gift.’
She surprised him by sitting down next to him. ‘I’ve given some thought to this situation.’
He was about to ask which situation she meant, the need to scout the demon site once more, her elevation to high office, or them finding themselves together, but in a rare attack of wisdom, he said nothing. ‘Really?’ he said, in as neutral a tone as he could imagine.
‘You find that surprising?’ she asked, her tone accusing.
He tried to remain even-toned. ‘I don’t find it surprising that you think about things, but rather that you’d speak of them to me.’
‘Really?’ she echoed, her tone very confrontational.
He knew he was rapidly losing any hope of having a civil conversation. In the time they had spent together he had found her a perplexing combination of keen intellect and impulsive behaviour that bordered on reckless. Her order taught that quick evaluation was sometimes necessary in determining which side of a conflict to join, but the lesson seemed to have denuded her ability to take a moment and consider. He just nodded.
‘I have been known to give consideration to weighty matters,’ she said, her eyes narrowing and her tone rising. ‘I only came to speak with you because despite the fact you are a horrible excuse for a man, you still know more of demon lore than anyone else I’ve met. Besides, Magnus told me of your discovery in Queg and I need to know what you uncovered about the creatures we face.’
Amirantha studied her face for a moment, unsure what exactly she expected of him; he decided his best course was to take her statement at face value. ‘Do you want to know what we’ve uncovered about demons in general or what we think about the bunch we’re going to go face down in Kesh?’
‘I’ve seen the ones we’re facing in Kesh personally, remember,’ she retorted with her eyes narrowing in anger. ‘Brandos says you and the elf have come up with all manner of new ideas about demons and that you’re so giddy from it, you’re barely able to contain yourself.’
Amirantha looked pained at the thought of being portrayed as ‘giddy.’ ‘Brandos tends to colourful characterization at times. In any event, what we’ve found is, if accurate, a completely different perspective on what is known as the “Fifth Circle” of Hell.
‘Demon summoners like Gulamendis and myself are selftaught, although occasionally we meet others with whom we can share our knowledge. In Queg I found a…book, for lack of a better word, but it’s more than that. It’s a comprehensive examination of the Fifth Circle. The author was often viewed as a madman, and the work a fabrication to thrill a rich patron or terrify the gullible, but both Gulamendis and myself find the work credible.’
‘Why?’ asked Sandreena, setting aside her personal ire towards Amirantha for the moment in favour of genuine interest in what he had to say.
‘The first thing I noticed was the demon stench; the book reeks of them. Whoever scribed this work did so in the presence of demons.’ He got a faraway look and said, ‘It’s almost as if the demon recited the facts and the scribe simply wrote them down. The other thing is, what he said about familiar demon lore was both accurate and…’ He looked at her. ‘You are aware that I have, in my time, engineered a number of ploys to separate the gullible from their gold. A weakness of a bad confidence is to overstate things; while his work is sensational in scope and depth of subject, it is not overly grandiose. If anything, it’s a little dull and academic.’
‘Or exceptionally clever in execution,’ said Sandreena.
‘But toward what end? It’s one thing to convince some minor baron that a demon is running around his woodlands, and that for a small price you’ll spare the villagers from having their children devoured. It’s quite another to spend years writing this tome, and then what? Sell it? No, the author was earnest.’