Demon Rider, page 33
“This feels wrong. Holiness, disrespectful!”
The boy was still staring woodenly at the fireplace, but the spirit laughed joyfully.
“Since when have you worried about being respectful, Tobias? No, you have earned a little ease, and rules do not apply to you. We shall talk while you wash, for this is a long tale. Your arrival happened to coincide with a raid by a band of brigands. We decided to kill two birds with one arrow and regret to say that this may have been a lapse into vanity. We nudged matters a little, so that you encountered the brigands on the road just below here. We prepared to defend the hostages from harm and waited to see what would happen, fully expecting that you would deal with the villains as you had dealt with the landsknechte and thus relieve us of the need to do it ourselves.”
Toby tossed his shirt on the bed after his doublet. He tipped water into the basin. It was hot. There was real soap!
So the tutelary had been testing him? It had not been as mistaken as it was making out, because it had sent Jacques to meet him and show him what exorcism could do. It was not being completely honest with him even now. It wanted something of him, but what? What would be written on the bill?
If it read his doubts, it did not comment on them. “The results were surprising. You did not invoke your demon. In fact you were prepared to die rather than try to use gramarye, so you had not yet lost your humanity, and that meant there was still hope for you. This was a complication, because you would lose that chance if the Inquisition got its hands on you, and of course von Münster and his troop were also after you by then. Consequently we offered you an exorcism. Our real intention was to give you sanctuary and our guidance in dealing with the hob. The exorcism itself would have been a last resort, only to be applied if we could not help you come to terms with —”
“If you had said so —”
“If we had said so, there would have been violent objections from the Inquisition and Captain Diaz and Hauptmann von Münster. But you amazed us again. In the end you chose the Inquisition! We regret the ordeal you have been through, Tobias, but you did make your own choice.”
He did not believe any of this, not for a moment. Montserrat had manipulated them all, and especially him. It was still doing so. Then the glowing embers under the logs on the hearth reminded him of the braziers in the crypt, and he shivered.
“You did very well to defang Baron Oreste,” the spirit said.
It did not say that it was surprised, though.
“That was all the don’s doing.”
“Oh, was it really?”
“Yes. I am grateful to you for sending him.”
“Thank his mother,” the spirit said with amusement. “A most valiant lady! Not that Ramon needed much persuasion once she suggested it.”
But who or what had put the idea in Doña Francisca’s head? “Holiness, can you help him?”
“The don? Help him in what way?”
Toby stared across the room at the boy’s blank face. Conversations with mystic voices were very frustrating. “Well … Untangle his wits.”
“Ah. You mean he does not draw the line between fantasy and reality in the same place you do?”
“Yes.”
“Who is to say which of you is right? If you gave him the choice, would not he choose to have his reality made more like his fantasies, rather than the reverse?”
“I suppose so. But … ”
“Have you ever seen him attacking a windmill, Tobias?”
“Attacking a windmill. Holiness? Why would anyone … No, I haven’t.”
“Then he is not as mad as he might be. Does he not always behave as if he knows a windmill is a windmill, however he may choose to describe it? Ask not what we can do for Don Ramon, but rather what will you do for him!”
“Me? I’m just a big stupid —”
Again the spirit chuckled. “You’re not at all stupid when you think no one is watching. We are giving you answers, but soon we shall demand answers from you. You see that silver box on the table? Go to it.”
Tossing down the towel, Toby walked over to the table. The box was finely crafted but small enough to fit in his fist. He had disregarded it, assuming it was only a tinderbox, but when he opened it now he found it to be empty. He turned to frown uneasily at the incarnation.
“This would hold a ring, perhaps? It is warded?”
“Very good! Yes. The demon that controlled Baron Oreste is named Avernus, and it is immured in a beryl. He describes it as a square, greenish stone held by eight claws in a gold setting.”
Toby began to untie the binding around the ivory casket. “How dangerous will this be?”
“There is some danger,” the spirit admitted. “You must be as quick as you can. We can keep the demon from Oreste, but we may not be able to prevent it from striking at you. You may see strange visions or feel the building shake. It may even hurt you. Try not to let these things distract you.”
He undid the last knot and took hold of the lid. “Hurt me how badly?”
“Perhaps quite badly. The pain may be severe.”
Oh, it must be nice to be an immortal and order people around like that! Toby opened the casket and nothing terrible happened. He fingered quickly through the glittering hoard inside until he found a gold ring with a square, greenish stone. He put that in the silver box and shut both of them. Then he turned around to glare at the paralyzed Alfonso.
“Well, did I pass that test? That’s all it was, wasn’t it? You were testing me again!”
“Partly. And yes, you passed. Your heartbeat never changed.”
Upstart, overgrown elemental! “Blast you and your sleazy tricks!”
Alfonso suddenly turned his head to look straight at him. “Not all trickery, Tobias. The demon was loose, but we were able to contain it. Now we can put it where it will do no more harm.”
“Then let’s talk about the amethyst. Who stole it?” He took off the locket and opened it. A purple gem rolled out into his palm. He stared at the incarnation in bewilderment.
“The locket has been hexed, Tobias. If anyone but you opens it, they just find a black pebble—a very subtle piece of gramarye!”
“You did that!”
“It was none of our doing.”
“Then who? The hob isn’t capable of subtlety. It doesn’t care about the stone anyway. Not Oreste. Some other spirit in Barcelona?”
“No. Oreste has subverted all of them.”
Toby waited for more and nothing came. He hung the locket around his neck and stalked over to the bed, where garments lay waiting. They looked large enough, plain but well cut. He began to dress. The choirboy was still frozen in place, so the audience was not over yet.
“What happens next? Will you defend me from the Inquisition?”
“We will,” the spirit said. “But we think you are safe from the Black Friars now. Having lost you twice, Vespianaso will be in deep disgrace—under suspicion of collusion, even. He may well learn something about the rack himself.”
“That poor old man? Dear, dear!”
“We shall assign you a penance for that remark,” the spirit said, “but not a very hard one. His brethren will hesitate to meddle with you. When you leave us we can certify that you have been cleansed of your demon.”
“That’s assuming I can learn to keep the hob suppressed?”
“Of course. We shall help you as much as we can, but you must not remain very long with us. We cannot defend you against Nevil, whether he brings his army or sends his legions of demons. A solitary assassin may evade our attention. You must leave soon. Now, we grant you one more question and then it will be our turn to ask.”
Toby took a hard look at Alfonso’s face, but of course it revealed nothing. What question was he supposed to ask? And what questions was he going to be asked?
“The locket, then. Who hexed it?”
“You did. We don’t know when, but it doesn’t matter. The fences are falling, Tobias. You and the hob are becoming dangerously close. You must not use it like that! If you were not aware that you were doing so, that merely shows the extent of your peril. Even an innocent little enchantment like that one may offer it an opportunity to take you over completely.”
“And I must stay away from women, and danger, and try to be a saint like Brother Bernat!”
“Women, yes. Danger maybe—you are remarkably resistant to fear. Most of all stay away from demons, for they rouse the hob as nothing else does. Now we have three questions for you. First, what you are going to do about the demons in that casket?”
“Me? I give them to you! I have no need for demons.”
“Nor do we. They are yours, because you won them, but they are useless without their names, and only Oreste knows those. The jewels themselves are worth a fortune, of course.”
Toby had never thought of that. Riches? Before he could even start to comprehend what wealth might feel like, the melodious voice spoke again:
“Our second question: What are you going to do about the baron?”
“Me? It is you who must help him. I know what it is to be enslaved as he was.”
“We have managed to bring him some comfort already, but he needs time to heal. And he is in danger here, like you, probably danger much greater. He wants to make recompense, but without his demons he is only a tired old man. Our third question: What are you going to do about the don?”
“Me? Kiss his hand and depart. He is a fine fighter and likable in his way, but I need lunatic noblemen no more than I need bottled demons. I was hoping you could cure him.”
The spirit uttered a very human-sounding sigh. “Tobias, it is almost time for Alfonso to return and take you to dinner. We need answers. You cannot just parrot. Me, me? We say, Yes, you! Now decide!”
“Decide what?” He sat down on the edge of the bed. Taken unaware by the softness of the down, he sank into it much farther than he expected and toppled back on his elbows. It felt like a swamp, and he knew he would never be able to sleep on it, tired though he was.
He stared in perplexity at the oblivious boy. The boy stared in the general direction of the fireplace. The fire crackled, wind wailed through a gap somewhere, and that was all.
“Tobias, we cannot prophesy, but we can make very good guesses. We do not know that you will master the hob, but we are prepared to gamble on it. Europe is about to fall to Nevil, the demon incarnate. The people call out for a leader, and you have more potential than any man we have met since Charlemagne called in here in 778.”
“Now it’s flattery, is it?” Toby sneered. “You’ll find I have a large hide to butter.”
“And a thin one. He who will not take orders must give them. We have helped you, have we not?”
“So now you present the bill. How much do I owe you?”
“Everything,” said the spirit. “And nothing, for we did not plan to offer you our help. You have won, Tobias—won!”
He struggled up out of the bed. “I had help.”
“Of course you had help!” Now the spirit sounded exasperated. “All mortals need help! There is no shame in accepting help, especially when you have earned it. Loyalty begats loyalty. You went to a terrible death to spare your friends. It was you who inspired the don to hazard his life for you, not us. That was the only way he could admit that you had saved him from the brigands. It was you who defeated Oreste, just as once you defeated Valda. The victory is yours.”
It was a strange notion. He stood for a moment, letting that concept soak through his weariness. Victory? Oreste, the Inquisition, the landsknechte—even Montserrat itself. He had won! He squared his shoulders.
“And?”
“That is what we ask of you. What will you do with your success?”
Must he decide now, tonight? So tired. But yes, of course! “The iron is hot? The tide runs?” It must be tonight, before the glow of victory faded, while everyone was still here.
That was what Hamish had seen.
“The sailor sets sail when the wind is in his favor, Tobias.”
He laughed. “I am not accustomed to victory, Holiness! It is a new thing.” And a very sweet one.
Alfonso beamed and said, “It is time for dinner, senor!” in his tuneful soprano. He walked across to the table and picked up the silver box that contained the demon Avernus. He obviously did not realize he was doing so, or where he was going to take it. “It is roast goose tonight, senor! I could smell it downstairs.”
Silence. After a moment, he said, “Senor?” Toby snapped out of his reverie. He grabbed up the jerkin. “I’m ready. Lead the way, lad. Let’s go and catch the wind!”
EPILOGUE
Captain Antonio Diaz Davila liked to think of himself as a devout man—within the limits imposed by his profession—but on his previous visit to Montserrat the tutelary had refused to hear his confession. That rebuff had been a devastating shock for him. He had only been obeying orders! That the spirit did not view this excuse in the same way he did had caused him considerable anguish and self-examination.
Today’s unexpected return visit was a welcome chance to make amends. Having seen the horses stabled and his men properly quartered and served at the refectory’s loaded tables, he put Sergeant Gomez in charge and sent himself off duty—possibly forever.
All his life he had tried to visit Montserrat at least once a year. The great church was very large and old, and very splendid. By day its richness never failed to snatch his breath away, but it was just as impressive in near-darkness. A hundred starry candles failed to illuminate its expanse or the worshipers who came at all hours to pray in a silence so profound that it seemed to echo. There, after long meditation on his knees, Diaz confirmed his decision and felt peace. He might die very soon, but what really mattered was what would happen to his soul when he did.
Even then, in the middle of the night, many of the confessionals were occupied, but he found an empty one and knelt on the cushion provided. He waited apprehensively until an elderly nun came in and took the chair before him. She said nothing, just folded her hands in her lap, smiled over his head, and waited. He would have preferred a monk, but truly it did not matter. Only the spirit would hear.
He began with the least of his failings—shortness of temper, fits of envy, ill-considered speech. He progressed to more serious matters—excessive severity toward a couple of recruits, his recent tendency to drink too much, and a shameful incident with a certain married lady. He listed the actions he had already taken to set things to rights where he could, plus a few other possible reparations that had occurred to him during his meditation. Then he came to the problem of his duty and hesitated.
The spirit spoke for the first time. “Antonio, you were right to dispose of these lesser affairs before you tell us of your greater sorrow. For all the matters you have mentioned, though, we accept your repentance. Do as you have promised, and they will imperil your soul no longer.”
He savored that blessing for a moment. Then he drew a deep breath. “The other problem. Holiness, is that I am a soldier and must obey orders. Even … I mean when … Although … ”
“Take your time. You are in no immediate danger of dying, and we have all Eternity.”
He glanced up gratefully, although the nun had never yet looked down at him. “You told me many years ago that a boy could honorably aspire to be a soldier, although the risk of doing evil would be greater for him than for other men. When Queen Caterina left and my superiors surrendered the palace to King Nevil, I obeyed orders and stayed at my post. Soon I was promoted. I accepted that promotion, even knowing that the Fiend was a most evil tyrant. I reasoned that if I did not take the position then someone else would, and —”
“That is never an excuse. We told you so when you were sixteen.”
“I remember. Holiness, I remember! I mean that I … that another man might not try so hard to … I mean … “ Another deep breath. “Whenever I can. Holiness, I obey my orders in the least evil way possible. Barcelona groans under the viceroy’s tyranny, and some of his evil comes to them through me. I have tried my best to minimize it, truly I have! During the riots, when I was ordered to fire on the crowds, I had the men load one-third charges, so that the shots would more likely wound than kill. When I was sent out to arrest twelve hostages at random, to be executed in retribution, I chose elderly persons, invalids, cripples. It did no good! The baron knew at once what I had done and sent me back for another twelve—young people. My efforts to do less evil merely produced more.” His mouth was dry. His heart ached with the memory.
“Antonio,” said the serene voice of the spirit, “the greatest of all tragedies is that evil cannot prosper long without the help of the good, and yet prosper it does. Though you were doing less evil than the baron wanted, you were still doing enough.”
“I see that now. Holiness. You opened my eyes. I will serve him no more. I will not return to Barcelona with him tomorrow, or whenever he leaves here. If you refuse me sanctuary, then I must flee and hope that he does not track me down with his black arts. He regards anything less than perfect loyalty as treason.”
Some executions for treason lasted for days, with the victims’ suffering extended by demonic power beyond all normal endurance. He had no close family, but his cousins and uncles might well …
“A late repentance is still repentance. This is your firm decision?”
“It is. Holiness.”
“Then you are forgiven. Walk in peace and do better.”
Ah, what blessed relief those words brought with them! The tutelary had not yet offered sanctuary, though. Nor named a penance …
“Was it only our anger that opened your eyes, Antonio? Nothing else?”
“Your disapproval was enough, Holiness, when I had time to think about it. Although … well, later I watched a young man give himself up to the Inquisition in place of his friends. When I compared his actions with mine I was ashamed, bitterly ashamed. I saw myself rotting in evil.”
“And how did you see Longdirk?”
