C. Dale Brittain_Wizard of Yurt 01

by A Bad Spell in Yurt

  A cloud of bats, squeaking frantically, rushed up the corridor toward me. Their wings flapped all around my head, and I felt the brush of tiny, hairy bodies against my face. At that I would have fled, heedless of the consequences, but my foot slipped and I crashed to the floor. Here the paving stones were damp, and as I sat up I could hear for the first time the dripping of water.

  The bats were gone. I stood up, rubbing my bruises. It didn't matter if I had cracked any bones, because I would soon be dead anyway. All I had to do was keep moving until the demon showed himself. Now the air was thick with scurrying noises, with unidentifiable reptilian calls, and with distant and ominous moans. Emboldened by any change from the deadly silence, I walked on as quickly as I could make my feet move.

  Rats scampered down the corridor in front of me, and several times I nearly stepped on a scorpion or a snake that slithered across my path. Another cloud of bats burst out of a side room, but this time I was ready for them. But I did not like the moaning sound, and I was drawing closer to its source.

  A flutter of movement caught my eye, just on the edge of my peripheral vision. I jerked around so fast I nearly lost my footing. It disappeared as I turned, but I had had a faint glimpse of an apparition with a human face.

  I braced my back against the stone wall and felt more dank blood seeping through my clothes. Giant roaches scuttled by my ears. The light from my belt was very faint, but I managed, after a few panic-stricken moments, to increase the brightness momentarily.

  I was standing at a widening of the corridor where many doorways opened on either side. In each doorway was a barred gate, rusted open. There was no possibility of imagining that these were store rooms. These were prison cells.

  A white form moved in the cell I was facing and started toward me. It wailed as it came, with a cry that melted my bones. It was a skeleton. It rattled with every step, and its eye sockets were gleaming. I tried the two words of the Hidden Language to break an illusion, and it kept on coming.

  Fingers made of dozens of tiny bones reached toward me. My arms went up over my face, and I pressed back hard against the wall, waiting for the skeleton's deathly touch.

  The touch did not come. I opened my eyes again. The skeleton was gone. I did not know if it were an illusion, given voice and propelled by stronger magic than mine, or if it were a real skeleton, given life by black magic. All I knew was that the demon apparently did not intend to kill me by proxy. Either he still hoped to frighten me away, or he was saving me to kill himself.

  This thought gave me the confidence to glance around at all the other barred cells. Skeletons or ghostly apparitions were in most of them. I had never known much of the history of Yurt and was unlikely now to learn more, but I remembered that, generations ago, there had been wars in the western kingdoms. These then would be manifestations of the souls of traitors, of prisoners, of men broken under torture. I shuddered as a ghostly hand passed through me, insubstantial but leaving a chill as an illusion never did. These apparitions might not be planning to kill me, but they could be drawing my soul toward hell with theirs.

  I pushed away from the wall and staggered onward. Maybe I was being presumptuous, I thought, to try to save the Lady Maria's soul when she herself had willingly sold it away. Maybe I could keep the cellars locked up, since I had the only key, and talk the young count and the knights out of their mad plan to attack the "renegade wizard." Maybe, having nearly killed the king and then nearly killed us all with the dragon, the demon would now be satisfied and cause no more trouble.

  But these thoughts scarcely slowed my steps. I had already had all these arguments with myself many times and had won—or lost, depending on whether or not one thought my own life worth preserving.

  The dripping was steadier, and I had to step carefully, because a thin film of water was coursing over the floor. I had no idea how far I had come or how long it had been since I left the courtyard. It briefly occurred to me that I might be dead already.

  The corridor turned again, and I paused, for ahead I thought I could see a light burning. Again, I barely stopped myself from calling out, "Who's there?" I knew perfectly well who was there. The floor grew warmer and drier with ever step I took, and the noxious fumes grew thicker.

  I turned another corner and found myself looking into a wide chamber, at the very end of the cellars. I walked warily into the room. The walls were glowing red, and the heat was nearly unbearable. The room seemed empty.

  A voice spoke behind me. "Were you looking for me?"

  I made myself turn around slowly and deliberately. The demon was standing in the doorway. I was struck dumb. He was only about a foot high, bright red, and had horns and burning eyes. If he hoped to lull me into complacency by appearing small, he was mistaken. He smiled, which gave his face the final touch of absolute evil.

  "Greetings, Daimbert," he said in a high voice. Since everyone in the castle called me Wizard, it was extremely startling to have someone use my name again, especially a demon.

  I found my voice and closed my eyes against his face so that I could concentrate on the words of the Hidden Language. "By Satan, by Beelzebub, by Lucifer and Mephistopheles," I said, as this was the correct way to begin a conversation with a demon. "I have come to offer you a bargain." I spoke rapidly, before the pervasive evil could drain from my mind the memory of the words I had to say, before I could change my mind. "In return for a soul to which you may not be fully entitled, I offer you a life."

  A laugh forced me to open my eyes again. The demon was taller now, and he was not so red. "Come, Daimbert," he said in the language of men, not in the Hidden Language. "Before you say anything you may regret, shall we talk for a moment?"

  "Non-binding conversation," I said, choosing the correct words of the Hidden Language carefully. I made it a demand, not a request. One is less likely to be tricked by a demon if what one says has been declared non-binding, but the Diplomatica Diabolica was very clear that one should never request anything from a demon.

  "Non-binding conversation," the demon agreed formally. He had continued to grow as we spoke, and he was now the tall, gaunt-faced stranger I had first seen when we returned from the duchess's castle.

  Now that it had at last begun, I was almost relieved, though rivulets of sweat were running down my face from the heat. The demon stepped into the room, conjured up two chairs with a wave of his hand, and offered one to me. "Then let us talk!"

  II

  "You want me out of your castle, Daimbert," said the demon conversationally, crossing his long legs. I reminded myself not to trust his friendly demeanor for a second and repeated over in my mind the phrases I had selected from the Diplomatica Diabolica.

  "I myself rather like Yurt," he continued. "But I'd be willing to consider another castle. You know I won't go back to hell empty-handed if I can help it, and I presume you didn't even bring the chalk to try to capture me. Am I right? I knew you'd have too much sense even to try."

  "In return for a soul to which you may not be fully entitled," I tried again, "I offer you a life."

  "We're having a non-binding conversation, remember?" he said with a laugh. I could almost have borne it had it not been for the laugh. "Why do you have to be so melodramatic? Do you think anyone will appreciate it if you kill yourself senselessly? How much more sensible to move the chalk from outside the castle."

  "Move the chalk," I repeated, not understanding. In a moment, I thought, my mind would go, and then he would be able to do whatever he wanted with me.

  "You've seen, surely, the five piles of white stone outside the moat, forming a pentagram to keep me in the royal castle of Yurt. If you move the stones, I'll leave Yurt and never bother you again."

  "But where will you go?"

  "Does it matter?" he said with a wave of his hand. He fixed me with his enormous eyes. It looked as though he had tiny flames where a human should have pupils. "I'll be gone, and I won't try to capture anyone else's soul. I promise!"

  I reminded myse
lf that this was a non-binding conversation. Besides, his words were not even close to the words which, according to the Diplomatica Diabolica, would actually engage a demon.

  "A demon loose in the world is too dangerous," I said. "And the Lady Maria's soul would still be forfeit."

  The demon leaned forward and touched me on the knee. I had somehow expected his touch to be insubstantial, that of an apparition, but it was solid as iron and hot as fire. If he had touched my bare skin, I think it would have blistered.

  "Why are you so worried about the Lady Maria?" he asked in tones of reasonableness. "If she didn't know the consequences of asking favors of a demon, she certainly should have. She may have ‘imperiled’ her soul by talking to me, as you might put it, but there's something you ought to know."

  "What's that?" I said as he paused.

  "I can see the future. Even if you romantically throw your life away for her, in two years she will commit a mortal sin so great that even the saints will turn their backs on her."

  "And what's that?" I burst out.

  "Are you asking for information?"

  "No," I cried, adding quickly in the Hidden Language, "I seek no help or information from you!" This was too close an escape for comfort.

  He fell silent for a moment, watching my face. I tried ineffectively to wipe my forehead with a wet sleeve. If he tricked me into asking for knowledge beyond that possible in the natural world, I would be well on the way to selling my own soul.

  But could he be right about the Lady Maria? There was no way to know, but I had to act as though he were wrong. "You're lying," I said firmly. "I don't want to have a conversation with a lying demon."

  "I'm telling the perfect truth," he said easily. "Even if you don't believe me, you certainly should realize I have the power to discover such things."

  "You can't know the future, even you," I said, trying desperately to remember a fragment of a conversation I had once had with the chaplain. "Only the past is knowable and repeatable. If the future were fixed, that would deny free will."

  The demon dismissed this. "If you'd rather believe a priest than someone who has actually seen what will happen— But think, Daimbert. Even if you could ‘save’ the Lady Maria's soul, why throw away your life for someone you don't even particularly like?"

  "I'm responsible for her and for everyone else in my kingdom," I said stubbornly, "and you imperil them all."

  "But you've asked yourself the same thing, haven't you, Daimbert?"

  I didn't dare answer.

  The demon leaned back in his chair. "You're surprisingly obstinate," he said in a macabre parody of good-fellowship. "I gave you a good excuse with my apparitions to go back without having to meet me, but you kept coming anyway."

  "I should have known all along you were here," I said. "From the moment you first broke the magic lock on my chambers, you've been teasing me, eluding me. I'm not going to let you do it any more."

  The demon shrugged. "Why don't we leave for the moment the question of ‘saving’ a soul that will fall into mortal sin in a short time anyway. Instead, if you're determined to die, maybe you and I can agree on something that will make your final days of life more pleasant."

  "I'm not agreeing to anything," I said cautiously.

  "Let me offer it before you agree!" he said pleasantly.

  "I came to make a different bargain!" Although I had long since despaired of my life, and my body would not stop trembling, my mind was momentarily clear. I was almost beyond terror. The demon had first tried to frighten me away before I had even reached him, I told myself, and now was trying to distract me with pointless conversation, because he knew that my bargaining position was sound.

  The demon seemed to be growing again, and the chair he was sitting on with him. "Suppose I accept your bargain, Daimbert," he said, "your life for the Lady Maria's soul. That is what you're offering? Good. Now, why should you have to die today? I'd be happy to put off your death if you would."

  Against my will, I felt hope surging up.

  "Think what you could do if you and I just added a few details to our bargain. It would be easy enough for me to offer you whatever you want."

  "I don't want anything."

  He laughed again. "You know that's not true. You're just being stubborn. I know perfectly well what you want, Daimbert. You want to be a master wizard."

  He had me there. I closed my eyes and clamped my jaw shut.

  "Why should you and I be enemies? You and I are so similar in so many ways. We've both failed: you in being a competent wizard, and me in being an angel. You knew, didn't you, that demons are fallen angels?"

  "I have nothing in common with you," I said through clenched teeth.

  "You've had to get by with halfway knowledge and the occasional brilliant improvisation," the demon continued, his high voice almost gentle. "Think about it: with me working with you, you could have magic powers beyond the imaginings of any of the other students of your wizards' school, even beyond that of the teachers."

  I kept my eyes closed, but a series of images raced across my unwilling mind. I could see myself returning to the school in triumph, performing magic that would stun Zahlfast and the other teachers. "No," I said to these images, and "No," I managed to say out loud. "I'm not becoming involved in black magic. I want to save the Lady Maria's soul, but I'm not going to lose my own."

  "And why are you so sure about that?" asked the demon, softer than ever. "Did you ever think that you might belong to the devil already?"

  At this I had to open my eyes, although I immediately wished I hadn't, for the demon smiled at my expression, and his mouth was full of dozens of razor-sharp teeth. As he grew, he looked less and less human.

  "Yes, Daimbert," he said companionably. "Your soul is already ‘lost.’ You can't give me an argument about free will there. I know your soul, and I know the sins you have already committed."

  "You're lying." I felt I was rapidly losing whatever advantage I might once have had, but there seemed no way to stop this conversation.

  "Not at all. Think about it for yourself: have you always had the impossibly ‘pure’ mind and heart that your religion laughingly makes the condition for what it calls salvation? As long as you belong to the devil anyway, why not take advantage of it during the next two hundred years?"

  I almost believed him. But the Diplomatica Diabolica made it clear how full of trickery a demon could be. I had no more competence or good ideas; all I had left was stubbornness. "No," I said again. "You wouldn't now be offering me anything for my soul if you already had it."

  "So you aren't interested in the powers black magic could give you," the demon said thoughtfully. "Maybe this will interest you. I can offer you the queen."

  I gasped so suddenly that my mouth was full of the evil fumes I had been trying hard not to breathe. By the time I had finished coughing, I was able to make my lips say, "No," although at the last moment they almost said, "Yes."

  "But think about it!" I was thinking about it. "That head of midnight hair lying on the pillow next to yours, those emerald eyes and that smile greeting you every morning, those soft arms greeting you every night—"

  "You can't know what I think!" I cried.

  "And you could prolong her life to match your own. Two hundred years of bliss together! And for what? Agreeing to give up a soul you've already thrown away years ago. I'd even let the Lady Maria go."

  "But—what about the king?"

  "He's an old man already. He won't be a problem."

  I breathed very shallowly, feeling I was choking. "You've made a mistake there, Demon. I'm not going to do anything that would hurt the king. You lost your chance that the Lady Maria gave you, to take the rest of his years from him, and you're not going to get a second chance from me."

  "So wait a little while, and the problem will solve itself anyway," said the demon casually. "When he dies naturally, as you know he will within a few years, I can make sure the queen's affections turn at once toward you.
"

  "No," I repeated, looking at the floor because I did not dare look at him. A viper was crawling near my foot but I didn't even bother to move. "I would not consider two hundred years with her as two hundred years of bliss if I knew I owed her love to you."

  The demon laughed, a deep laugh now that seemed to resonate in his belly. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you liked the Lady Maria better than the queen!"

  The viper moved away. I forced myself to look up again. His mention of the Lady Maria brought me back to the knowledge of why I was here in the first place. "I'm only making one bargain with you," I said. I had to drag this discussion back to the reason I had originally come, before the demon tricked me out of my soul without conceding anything, or he simply killed me with fear.

  He was now more than twice as large as I was. An enormous belly hung over his knees, and he leered down at me from near the ceiling. "You can't bargain for the Lady Maria. She sold herself to the devil."

  "One can always bargain with the devil," I said with as much confidence as I could. I was moving back now toward the points set out in the Diplomatica Diabolica. But I wondered how I could ever have imagined the negotiations would be straightforward.

  "A soul for a soul, of course," said the demon in deep, resonant tones. "But why should the devil make any bargains for your soul when it already belongs to him?"

  "I do not offer my soul," I said formally in the Hidden Language. "Besides," I added firmly, "my soul does not belong to the devil." The black despair in the pit of my stomach did not believe that, but maybe the demon did. "I offer only my life."

  "A life for a soul is not a good bargain."

  "It is if the soul isn't really yours to begin with!" I stopped myself. This was not the prescribed negotiating language, but I did not think I had made any serious mistakes so far. "Binding negotiations!" I remembered then to say.

  The demon nodded his enormous head. He once again had grown horns.