Green Agate Pretender (Demon Lord Book 9)

by Morgan Blade

  Still, I had to do something to make it little easier on Colt. This was my duty as his father, though in my timeline, he’d yet to be born. The Selene of my timeline didn’t even look pregnant, though Colt was slowly growing in her womb. Having my son visit us from nine years in the future was giving us both a crash course in parenting.

  “You forgot one more detail,” I said. “Ceremonial dagger. Even a sword wouldn’t be unheard of, not in Fairy.”

  Full hope didn’t return to Colt’s face. He showed guarded optimism this time. “That wouldn’t be too bad.” He gave her puppy dog eyes.

  “Oh, fine!” It was Selene’s turn to roll her eyes. “Boys and their toys.”

  “I’ll do it,” Colt said.

  I knew he was heading off the risk of being stuck with something in a pink sequined scabbard. He spread his hands palm up and his demon sword appeared in a black lacquer sheath. He belted it on, completing his look. He made sure the hilt poked out of the cloak so everyone could see he had a little bit of cool.

  It looks a little like an engorged demon penis.

  I kept that observation to myself. “Shall we walk? It looks like a pleasant evening. The local village isn’t far.”

  We strolled the garden to the gate in the wall. It let us out onto a grassy expanse. Wear and tear had formed a path that we followed. I didn’t need the light, but Ammarellis summoned a couple Will-o’-the-Wisps to lead the way. One burned cool lilac, the other pink cherry.

  “How lovely,” Selene said. “these should do well on the Red Moon, unless the gargoyles eat them.”

  “Just kill me now,” Colt muttered.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  “The height of a man is measured

  by the deep ranks of his enemies.”

  —Caine Deathwalker

  The town had grown bigger than I expected. There was no wall, just a modest river to add interest. A waterwheel spun at a mill where flour was ground from various grains. Another series of such wheels adorned a large structure. This explained electric street lights. Izumi had imported the technology from Earth, probably from some prepper’s website. There were dwarves lounging outside that building, on a smoke break. That explained how the turbines were maintained when fey couldn’t touch them. The river’s far side had its own waterwheel to feed a sawmill. This adjoined a lumberyard.

  I turned my attention to the main town. What I saw looked more 1800’s Earth than Fairy. The fey wore homespun in place of leather, silk, or feathers-and-beads such as the pixies favored. The fey walked around with little glamour. The magic I felt was low-key, meant more to enhance than to deceive; the ladies were pleasing to the eye, but not mind-numbingly so. The men wore knives and hatchets on leather belts, but few had swords. Laughter flowed freely. Voices were cheerful. A happy place.

  We caught curious stares. The folks moved quickly to get out of our way. Since a large number of these settlers weren’t strictly legal, having yet to give an oath of allegiance, I understood their reticence. Their lives were in my hands as lord of the land. At my displeasure, the ground could literally open up and swallow them.

  There were clumps of oak, ash, and cottonwood decorated with hanging lanterns. The businesses and homes flowed around them to leave the area’s natural state largely untouched. Tamed grouse prowled freely as did quail. I wondered if the wolves now out in the surrounding prairie had swelled the poultry population in town.

  Better the fey that steal your eggs, then wolves that kill and eat you.

  There was a Main Street that ran perpendicular to the river. Most businesses were there. Another innovation of Izumi seemed to be five-foot boardwalks under cover. A lot of cottage industry merchandise had been arranged there to catch the interest of passersby. Ammarellis wandered over to investigate a tinker’s stand where mended pots were displayed. From the massive swell of his arms, I figured he was also the town blacksmith. I saw a sign in Elvin that had also been written in English, a nod of respect to me, the Lord of Dragon’s Eye. The English said: Copper nails. Twenty-five, a silver bit.

  On the next stretch of boardwalk, several tables offered roasted snacks. Lentils, peanuts, and sweet potatoes that smoked, fresh from a fire-pit. Another table had an old woman peddling a device that spun an oversized bowl. A little magic and brown sugar enabled her to dip a stick inside and harvest cotton candy. This had Izumi’s touch all over it. I wondered if she’d left me anything to do around here. She might not let me. This had the feel of a personal project.

  Colt went straight to the cotton candy. “How much?” he asked.

  His use of English, which the old lady’s charmed earrings translated, surprised her. Looking at his round ears, she knew him for a human child. She smiled, showing perfect teeth. “No charge, young one. The City Council is sponsoring the food here.” She dipped a stick, worked it a bit, and muttered a minor incantation. The stick emerged with three different layers of color, red, gold, and blue to match his clothes. She held out the stick and he took it happily. Primary colors are meant to be eaten.

  “Thanks.”

  “You are welcome, young man.”

  I moved up behind him. “Young lord. He is Colt Deathwalker, the heir of Dragon’s Eye, my son.”

  Her gaze slid to me. A bit of uncertainty quavered her tone, a bit of fear. She hastened to disengage from the pedals and stand, hurrying through a quick curtsey. “My Lord Deathwalker, it is an honor.”

  The fey at the adjoining tables hurried to copy her gesture of respect. Down the boardwalk, a coppersmith setting out lightning rods stopped to stare. His eyes seemed particularly intense. And he needed a shave.

  A narrow man with bushy brows and a crooked nose grabbed my arm. He wore traditional fey robes in indigo, trimmed in ochre. His half-bald head was wreathed in back by white hair though he had no wrinkles on his face. I also noticed a weak grip. Not a laborer.

  He smiled widely. “My Lord, we are honored by your visit. Allow me to be the first to thank you for your generosity. The power plant, the clay-pipe sewage lines… I am speechless, speechless I tell you. Oh, I do wish you had let me know you were coming. We could have received you with the spectacle you deserve!”

  I turned toward him which pulled my arm from his friendly grasp. “Hindering a warrior’s sword arm is not a wise thing to do,” I said.

  “W-what? Oh, your pardon, lord. I was overcome. I meant no—”

  “And you are?” I interrupted.

  Selene ignored all this, helping herself to a cloth-wrapped sweet potato, split open, smeared with brown sugar and butter. She placed a red jewel in the vender’s hand, ridiculously overpaying.

  The touchy-feely townsman retreated a step and bowed with crisp formality, one hand across his midsection, the other hand making a gentile wave to the side. At some time, he’d time in someone’s court. He straightened. “I am Jymil, the mayor of Jymilville.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “Jymil-what?”

  J-jymilville, my lord. You see, the town lacked a name and after careful consideration, that is, the council, the people decided…”

  “And no one thought it might be taking a liberty since this is my land?” I kept my voice soft and friendly, uncertain if I needed to make an issue. After all, why kill someone who might prove useful. Of course, if he had no special value, I should make an example of him—or give him to Selene. She always needed experimental fodder.

  “We had heard that you were a progressive leader, with new ways and…and…”

  I held up a hand to stop him. “Mayor? Council? When did the town hold elections? I take it you are being paid to serve? Are you also taxing?”

  “Well, we have not actually gone through the formality of… That is to say, we are planning…”

  “To usurp my authority?’

  “No! It is just that you are known to spend much time in the human world, and we did not want to burden—”

  I held up my hand again. “Did it not occur to you that your running anything here is an act of treason until
you have first given me your oath of fealty? Or did I fall asleep and miss that?”

  “No, my lord. There just has been no opportunity.”

  “And yet we are here and you are not on your knees. Perhaps you are reconsidering living in my kingdom. Or perhaps you are waiting to see if any of my enemies come and remove me from power. In the following chaos, you could wind up as lord. The land might choose one so industrious, yes?”

  Trembling, he collapsed to his knees. “If it is my oath you want…”

  And still he’s hesitating to give it.

  “No,” I said. “If I take your oath, I may be stuck with you. Once I clear my schedule, I will return for a day when I can take oaths from the entire town. Look forward to what might happen on that day.” Listening to myself, I noticed how my speech patterns had mimicked the fey.

  Gotta watch that.

  I turned and walked away. Colt followed. He shot me sideways glance. “You really beat that guy up.”

  “I smelled politician. You let a politician into the woodpile, and society begins to rot at once. It’s worse than a zombie apocalypse.”

  “Doesn’t someone have to manage this for you and Aunt Izumi?”

  “Yeah, sure, but power always needs to be given to those who don’t want it. Nothing else is safe. Wanting power is proof of the unworthiness to have it.”

  Colt laughed.

  I looked at him as we approached the display of copper lightning rods. “Why is that funny?”

  “It’s just that you’re in the middle of conquering all Fairy.”

  “I never claim to be worthy of power. I simply intend to own everything. Right and wrong has nothing to do with it. Besides, if I don’t conquer the universe, someone else will, and they might step on me doing it.”

  A farmer handed over a large silver and several smaller bits for a dismantled lightning rod in three pieces that could be screwed together. He took his prize and left the table. The coppersmith dropped the coins in a lock box.

  I stopped him from closing the lid, and looked in. There were coins from many kingdoms, showing a diversity of immigrants. It reminded me that I had yet to introduce my own currency with my face stamped on each coin. This was more than vanity. Region specific coins, with a bit of royal magic in each coin, prevented counterfeiting. The people bonded to me by oath were bonded to my land. They could feel its magic, even draw on the land in small ways, and this let them know if a coin with my face was silver-coated or pure. Using glamour, a fey scammer could influence a merchant’s perceptions, even passing off a pebble for a coin if strong enough, but such a thief couldn’t fake the authentic resonation of my embedded magic to the land.

  I could tell from the coppersmith’s tension, and the subtle movement of his hand to his belt, that he was about to pull a knife. “Relax,” I said. “I’m only looking at the types of coin in circulation.”

  “You’re going to make some coins with your face on them?” Colt guessed.

  “Izumi’s face, too,” I said. “She is queen. I think she’d like that.”

  The smith acquired a wide-eyed look of realization. “You are the Lord, the Dragon Lord.”

  Oddly, his tension increased. And he made no attempt at respect. No bow, no offer of oath. His hand jerked the rest of the way to his belt, plucking out a silver dagger. He lunged with it.

  He had a warrior’s quickness, but my Villager and dragon DNA gave me an edge. I caught his hand and pulled him across his own table, twisting the hand so he was forced onto his back. I struck once, a killing blow to the throat. Larynx crushed, he gurgled and choked. His breathing stopped. He died. I could afford no mercy because it could have been an unsuspecting Colt he’d gone for, to make me really hurt. The knife remained clenched in his grip. Finally, the hate seeped out of his eyes, last to fade.

  Suddenly, the mayor was beside me, looking down on the dead man. “What happened? Is he dead?”

  “Quite dead,” I said. “What’s his background?” I wondered if he were an assassin or if this had been personal. The level of hate in his dying eyes suggested the latter.

  A woman from the next store front came over. As the mayor remained dumbfounded and silent, she curtseyed. “My lord, the smith came with a number of ex-soldiers from the Ruined Lands.”

  “Storm Court,” I said. “No wonder he sold lightning rods.”

  The woman continued. “I know he tried to put his hatred away for the death of his land, the destruction of its tie, that caused him to lose his wife who was not strong of mind.”

  “You are well informed. Are you from the Storm Court, too?” I asked.

  “Y-yes, my lord.”

  “And you don’t hate me?”

  “No! Never. I see what you are building. I know you care about the people here. You have done more for refugees than most fey kings and queens do for sworn subjects.”

  I nodded. “The Storm Court came after me first in the human world. They kidnapped my daughter, threatened to kill her. That made it a blood vendetta.” Vendetta was an Italian word, her charms probably translated the word as vengeance. All fey understand that.

  She said, “I do not say you were wrong, but the number of dead in the Storm Court was appalling.” There was deep pain in her voice. I wondered who she’d lost.

  “My enemies needed to understand that they can come at me, but they cannot wage war on children.”

  My glance went to Colt. He stood there, shocked, pale-faced, hand frozen on the hilt of his sword. He’d entirely forgotten that his momma had dressed him funny. I thought he needed to focus on something else. “Colt, pick up the money box and the spilled coins, please.” He hurried with the task.

  I gave my attention back to the gathering audience around us. “This is my fault for not taking oaths earlier. A country controls its borders or it stops being a country.”

  The woman lowered herself to both knees, placed her hands in her lap, and bowed her head. “Allow me to pledge myself, my lord.”

  “Go on,” I said.

  “I Cairyn, weaver, and maker of dyes, new-come to the Dragon Lands, do forsake all other oaths, affirming my loyalty to Lord Caine Deathwalker and his family. I will serve the interests of the land he rules, and in no way offer violence or ill will. My word as fey.” I could tell she’d spent a great deal of time on the wording of her pledge. There was no set formula. Any oath not fervent, with loopholes left in, I could discard.

  I spoke down to her. “Lift your eyes. As your sovereign, I accept your oath. As you are my servant, I am your protector. Call to me for mercy, call to me for justice, and you will be heard.”

  There was a faint tinkling of bells in the air, and a surge of magic, springing up from the soil, pushing through the boardwalk. A yellow, green, and orange mist of magic wrapped the woman like a shawl, and settled into her body. Words have power here. As the glow faded, I motioned for her to rise.

  I glanced at the mayor. “The smith, does he have family?”

  “I, ah, don’t really know.”

  Cairyn answered. “Yes, my lord. A new wife who is with child.”

  I looked at the mayor. “What are we going to do about her?”

  He straightened like a soldier at military inspection. “My lord, I will see that she is sent away from town once morning comes.”

  “No.” I took the moneybox from Colt and handed it to the weaver. “Cairyn, see that this is given to the widow. Also look into the funds raised for city projects, salaries. The widow may need community support to see her through this transition in her life.”

  She looked at me, then past me at the mayor. “There are some who may not like that.”

  I smiled at her. “Then run them out of town. You are the new mayor, after all.”

  She smiled broadly. “Part-time mayor. I can’t take that much time from my regular work.”

  I heard the old mayor sputtering behind me, but I didn’t look at him. I didn’t want him thinking he had any importance to me at all.

  “One mor
e thing,” I said. “This town needs a new name. Jymilville sounds entirely too gay.”

  The sputtering gave way to a shocked gasp.

  Cairyn lifted an eyebrow at me. “You want something sadder, melancholier?”

  “Exactly. Draw up a list of suggestions.”

  I walked on. The crowds behind me were excited, but not in a bad way. Colt kept pace. I smiled at him. “Aren’t village fairs fun!”

  He sighed sadly. “I dropped my cotton candy.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  “Never fear fucking up, it keeps life interesting.”

  —Caine Deathwalker

  Planning a short trip to Earth, I gave Selene charge of protecting the mega-tie. Izumi would use it to raise defensive walls around the town in case besiegers came around. We’d abandoned our mountain fortress, for now. By daylight, the wolves were human, hitting the market for human food and clothes, and hitting me up to cover their bills. I was glad to spread out some cash, for services rendered against the Bone Court. The wolves had a great time and asked when the next Street Fair was scheduled; they wanted this to be a regular part of using the retreat I provided.

  I referred them to Izumi. She’d be the one getting them home.

  The Thorn Queen caught Colt and I on the street where we took formal oaths from merchants and farmers. It really wasn’t the time, but I couldn’t turn them down. Finally, I just asked all those who were going to support me, obey me, and be good citizens to say so.”

  A chorus of affirmations went up.

  “Good enough.” I waved them off and turned to Ammarellis. “Slept in, I see. How do you like my treehouse?”

  “Beautiful. I will have to grow myself one when I get back to the Thorn Lands.”

  When is that going to be?” I asked.

  “I’ll be going back today. I just have to arrange for delivery of certain products I’ve purchased from various merchants.”

  I smiled. “Then I’ll say goodbye now.”