by Rex Jameson
Chapter 23
Meeting the Architect
Lucifer touched down in an alley on the northern side of Arnessa with his brother. The last time he stood in the capital, he was mesmerized by the city life and variety of architecture, flora, and busy and interesting people. But even with the possibility of meeting the creator of his entire universe, Lucifer couldn’t help feeling depressed.
He kept his head down and his wings tucked in as they passed the turn to Rosaline’s mansion, where he had chased Anne over rooftops. He remembered the first time Anne and he had met; she with her knee in his stomach, and he locked on those green eyes.
The owners of the house had rebuilt the chimney they smashed together.
“What are you looking at?” Sariel asked.
“That’s where we watched the assassins going into the Coliseum.”
“Yeah, I guess it was.”
Every once in awhile, he’d exchange glances with an emerald-eyed elf, and he would slow down and stare at her. When she noticed his rounded ears, she would almost always curtsy or bow and walk off, but one elven woman put her hand on his chest in the middle of a large shopping district. She was lithe and her braided red hair spilled over her shoulders and onto her chest and back.
“Hello, Prince Lucifer. Fancy seeing you here.”
He sidestepped her and kept walking, but Sariel pulled him back.
“Hello, Rosaline,” Sariel said. “You are looking as fine and versatile as ever.”
She giggled before arching one of her eyebrows at Lucifer. “Well, I’m glad someone still thinks so.”
“Sorry,” Lucifer said, nodding to her in apology. “We’re just in a hurry to see the King.”
“Well, at least he’ll see you,” Rosaline said. “I guess he’s too busy to remember the little people anymore.”
“With thousands of members,” Sariel said, “you are still a force to be reckoned with. I’m sure he’ll come calling on you again.”
“Come have a drink with me,” she said, pointing at a nearby café with a brown and green awning.
“We should be …” Lucifer said.
“Of course we will,” Sariel interrupted him. “The King can wait.”
She brushed his arm and jaw with her hands, and he playfully growled. Lucifer protested weakly as Sariel towed him behind.
They sat down at a wooden table with cushioned chairs, and Lucifer focused on the marbling of the wood. He avoided Rosaline’s eyes. They were more teal than dark green, but paired with her scarlet hair, they were disturbing him. He hadn’t been this close to an elf since Anne lay dying in his arms.
“You miss her,” Rosaline said, lifting his face by the chin. “That much is obvious. There is still some hope for an alliance, I guess, despite the signs. We were all worried after hearing about her death. My condolences.”
“It should be me offering condolences,” Lucifer said. “She was a princess of your people, and after my universe kidnapped her for over a million years, I put her in harm’s way instead of bringing her back to the elven people.”
“That wasn’t her destiny,” she said.
Lucifer scoffed and grabbed a waiter by the arm. “Do you have something with alcohol in it?”
The waiter nodded. “Let me get you a menu.”
“Thanks.”
“You don’t believe in destiny?” Rosaline asked. “That’s actually quite humorous, considering who you are.”
“What do you mean?” Lucifer asked.
“You have had prophecies attached to you here since before you were born.”
Lucifer tried to fashion a response, but he was completely and awkwardly tongue-tied. This was the first he had ever heard about a prophecy in the Elven Realm concerning him.
Rosaline chuckled as the waiter arrived and handed them menus.
“Today’s special …”
“What’s the strongest drink you have?” Lucifer asked him.
“That would be the fermented chai root soaked in an Elysium spice broth and high proof wine imported directly from …”
“Yeah, that’s the one,” Lucifer said.
“Make that two,” Sariel added.
“Very well,” the waiter said. “And you, Ms. Rosaline?”
“Coffee, black,” she said. “Unlike these gentlemen, I’m still trying to cope with my liquor consumption from last night.”
He nodded and crisply pivoted before retreating into the restaurant.
“You didn’t know you had a prophecy in the Arnessan Archives?” Rosaline asked.
Lucifer shook his head. He didn’t want to know. Oracles freaked him out.
“‘He will unite the children of Archimedes with a pearl of the Architect’s chosen, and their son will usher in a new age.’”
Lucifer beckoned the waiter to hurry with his drink.
“What about me?” Sariel asked.
“Prophecy, you mean?” Rosaline shrugged. “If you have one, I don’t know about it.”
Sariel’s pouting drew the first signs of laughter from Lucifer. He ran his fingers along the cracks of the tarnished oaken table surface.
“Does it say when he will return?”
“Who?” Rosaline asked.
“My son.”
“You don’t have him?”
Lucifer shook his head and wiped at his eyes. Not all the moisture was gone, though, and he gritted his teeth at the way she shifted in her seat, and her bottom lip puffed out as she watched him. He wasn’t trying to gain her sympathy.
“I’m afraid that’s all I know about your son’s prophecy,” Rosaline said. “Yours is just getting started, though.”
The waiter expertly laid the three cups and saucers on the table without clattering the surfaces together. The drink smelled pungent and looked like a turd drowned in warm butter.
“Excellent choice,” Rosaline smiled from behind her coffee.
Lucifer snarled at her and quaffed the entire contents of the cup. The fermented root brushed against his lips. It was moist, slippery, and was obviously the source of the odor.
He grimaced and pushed the dish to the center of the table. He grabbed a napkin and scraped it against his tongue, but no matter how hard he pressed with the embroidered linen, he couldn’t feel it against his mouth.
“Thwat ith going on?” he asked and shook his head. “What ith going on?”
“You asked for the most powerful beverage,” Rosaline said.
Lucifer looked at his brother, who was giggling as he stared at the awning above them.
“Wur in troll,” Lucifer said.
“Why would you be in trouble?” Rosaline asked.
Lucifer steadied himself against the armrest and tried to focus on the Rosaline in front of him that the others were circling around. “We’re on our way tooth phallus to see Elnathril.”
“Phallus …” Sariel chortled. “Aweshome … awethumb … awesome.”
“Right,” Rosaline smiled. “You’re both on your way to the palace to see Elandril. Looks like you’re going to need an interpreter.”
“You wool do that for meeth?” Lucifer asked.
“I could try,” Rosaline said. “I have my own trade matters I would like to talk to him about, and this would give me an excuse for an audience. I’m sure he’ll see you both immediately. What is it you’re here for anyway?”
“Arsameetis,” Lucifer said.
“Sarmetis?” she asked. “The elven city?”
“No,” Lucifer frowned and kneaded his numb cheeks with his fingers. “Archimedes.”
“The Architect?”
Lucifer nodded and tried not to ruin his response with more slurred speech.
“I’m familiar with our great creator,” she shook her head and retrieved a cigarette from a small purse.
“You know him?”
“I’d say he knows all of me,” Rosaline said as she lit the cigarette and blew some smoke into Lucifer’s face. He closed his eyes and breathed it in deeply. It smelled like a crac
kling fire in winter.
“Whath’s he like?” he asked.
“Insatiable and a bit rude. Always comes back, but leaves immediately and gruffly. Apparently, his little side projects build up quite an appetite, which I help him with, and then it’s back to the lab or study or whatever dimension that he goes off to.”
“How do you …?” Lucifer asked. “I mean … how? … Er … when does he?”
He slammed his fist into the table in frustration and several elves rebuked him with their eyes. They might have been more effective if their eyes weren’t travelling all over the place. A few of them had even sprouted wings and were flapping around his head. He tried to catch them in the palm of his hand but kept missing.
“How do I get him to come to me?” Rosaline asked, choking on her cigarette with laughter as she watched the brothers groping at the air around them. “Archimedes doesn’t work that way. If you’re not offering him sex, I guess you’ll have to do something extraordinary. He has a weird sense of humor. Maybe you should appeal to that.”
“How long doe crap last?”
“Hours.”
“We’ll have twat,” Lucifer folded his arms and Sariel choked on his pungent tea.
“Now, you’re sthalking, brova.” Sariel said.
Rosaline shook her head.
“What did I sthay?” Lucifer asked. “We’ll have to wait. I can’t smeet with Ernalith like this.”
“You don’t have long,” she said. “His main singulus, the one you grew up with, leaves for a trade delegation in Uldram in an hour.” She pointed to the screens dotting the large corporate towers. “It’s all over the papers.”
He turned in his seat to see what she was talking about, but he was too distracted by the pretty elves that hustled along the busy street behind him.
“Hello … Hello …”
Sariel laughed and joined his brother in greeting everyone.
“I wouldn’t miss this meeting for the world,” Rosaline said. “Let’s get going. We don’t have much time.”
She dropped some zinanbar coins on the polished wood and grabbed Lucifer’s arm. She was so warm! He reached down with his other hand and stroked the small red and blonde hairs on her arm. While paying attention to her arm hair, he stumbled into two of her other singuli, and they rubbed his face and chest.
Heaven.