The Heavenly Host (Demons of Astlan Book 2) (24 page)

“I have no idea.” Trevin shrugged. “However, the balling we just watched seems to imply that at least a few of them are still around and they are aligning with demons, one of which is able to steal mana from Tiernon himself.”

“Which brings us, I suppose, to your guests?” Elraith asked Trevin.

“Yes, the two seers have independently seen an epic conflict coming between the gods, demons and everyone else caught in the middle.”

“If the Nyjyr Ennead can turn Tiernon’s own magic against him, then that would completely change the landscape,” Duranor noted.

“Given that there was a demon army hidden inside Freehold, undetected, where else could they have a second demon army stationed?” Ariel asked. He looked slightly perturbed for an alfar, Elraith thought.

Bess rematerialized in an alley three blocks over from Exador’s high-rise. She had no desire to let anyone see her shape-change and suspect what she was up to; better to fake a teleportation and change form during translocation. She looked down at her scaly, digitigrade, clawed feet and long serpent’s tail. Her finger claws were about four inches long. She had a svelte yet full-figured female form with reflective green and dark red scales, long black hair on top of a relatively normal-looking human face, albeit finely scaled as well , all topped by two pointy, slightly curved, dark green horns.

She knew the form well; it was her succubus disguise.  Of all her non-cat forms, this was probably her favorite. It was ideal when she wanted to slum it as a type III demon. Hmm, that reminded her: she needed to concentrate on making sure her aura was appropriate to her assumed station. After a few self-inspections of her aura, she was satisfied and headed to the bar.

She had arranged to meet her favorite avatar there. Admittedly, they were meeting where he was working undercover. Through the swinging wooden doors she strode, noting that a few demons did eye her lasciviously, which was nice. However, none paid her to too much attention. At least none beyond what her current disguise warranted.

Where was he? Ah, there he was. A young, slim demon with a human torso of ebony and the thighs, legs and tail of a horse. His head was human except for some very large incisors and curly horns twisting from the sides of his temples. His black, tightly curled hair was neatly trimmed on his head. He was lugging a basket filled with mugs to the back of the bar. Bess sauntered over and sat down at the bar as he set his load down.

“What does a demoness have to do to get a drink around here?” Bess asked playfully.

Tut looked up in surprise, having not recognized his mistress in this form. He quickly started to bow and Bess slapped her claw down on his arm in a warning not to do so in public. She shook her head.

“Mistress, I’m sorry; I didn’t recognize you,” Tut said softly and nervously.

“Obviously not.” Bess grinned and looked down to the demon’s groin, which was reacting to her succubus disguise. Tut quickly moved to cover himself.

“Mistress, I’m so sorry. I meant no disrespect,” Tut murmured, embarrassed.

“Tut, tut, my lad.” Bess tilted her head, she loved saying that. “It’s all part of the disguise.” Maybe she should incorporate that feature into some of her other forms. It could be useful. She looked around the room to ensure they were not being overheard. Thinking better of it, she quickly ringed them in a veil of silence. If no one was staring directly at them, they probably would not notice the veil.

“So, I assume you are aware of the duel in Astlan between the Etonian knight and the greater demon?” Bess asked.

“Everyone is talking about it; a great victory!” Tut said, smiling. Like his mistress, he held only a divine fury in his heart for the Etonians.

“It was indeed. But what do people know about this greater demon and his entourage?”

Tut shrugged. “Unfortunately, not a great deal. Although Marfaenel claims the greater demon has actually been here, in this bar, no one really believes him.”

Bess shrugged. It was kind of a dive bar for someone that powerful, but it was clear this demon was playing a deep game, as was she. “Nothing more?”

“Well, some demons have said that Tizzy was in the demon’s entourage, and others claim the bard Antefalken.”

“Tisdale? The octopodal basket case?” Tut nodded.

Bess thought back to the fight. She had not paid much attention to the demon’s followers. They had spent much of the fight under that net. However, it was quite likely; that pest was everywhere. They had not had the outpost completed but a day when he showed up there, in the highly secret middle of nowhere Abyss location… with a giant batch of cookies to welcome them to the neighborhood! Bess shook her head.

“Who is this bard you mentioned?” she asked.

“Antefalken. I gather he’s a rather famous demon bard,” Tut said. “I have seen him in here on occasion, but I have never spoken with him.”

“Well known, you say?” Bess asked. Tut simply nodded. Bess twisted her mouth, thinking. “Does he have any particular allegiances, patrons?”

Tut grimaced slightly. “He is well known in the cathedral, apparently, and it’s rumored that he is on very personal terms with Lilith.”

Bess’s right eyebrow shot up. “You mean…?”

Tut nodded. “Yeah, very personal.”

Bess sighed; this was starting to look bad. If this greater demon was one of Lilith’s pets, things were going to be very difficult. She really did not need demon princesses, and particularly not Lilith, getting their noses into this. She would need to talk some more with her demon partners.

~

“So that was weird,” Tom said as he entered the cave.

“What was weird?” Rupert asked.

“I was out flying around, stretching a bit, and I encountered a demon in human form wearing alpine climbing gear and shorts, eating a baloney sandwich on a mountaintop. He had climbed it in human form,” Tom said.

“Well, that is one way to kill an infinite amount of time.” Tizzy shrugged, not particularly interested. He had been muttering to himself, having one of his odd internal conversations.

“He also likes to ski on the really high mountains,” Tom said.

Antefalken frowned. “There are several that do that in the courts, your new friend must be rather wealthy; skiing is not cheap unless you can form your own skis.”

“He says he goes to Von Trapp or Slippery Slope,” Tom said.

“Hmm, very nice stores. Popular among greater demons and a few archdemons,” Boggy said. “Never been, myself. Haven’t got that kind of money.”

“What does your friend do?” Antefalken asked.

“Sam just said he worked in the Courts,” Tom replied.

“Sam?” Tizzy perked up.

“Yes, his name is Sam. He works in the Courts and has a getaway cave not too far from here,” Tom confirmed.

“Human-shaped demon you said?” Tizzy asked. Tom nodded. “Red hair, beard, drinks carbonated beverages?”

“Yes.” Tom said, frowning. “I take it you know him?”

“Tizzy seems to know everyone,” Estrebrius commented.

“I know him. Haven’t seen him in a while; he must spend a lot of time in that cave. Don’t trust him,” Tizzy said.

“Why don’t you trust him?” Antefalken asked.

“I did not say I don’t trust him, although I don’t. I said, do not trust him, meaning Tom should not trust him,” Tizzy said.

“Why?” Tom shook his head. “You’ve been getting rather paranoid recently. You’ve been rude to my friend Reggie, and now you don’t like Sam.”

“I didn’t say I did not like Sam,” Tizzy said. “As his type goes, he’s quite pleasant and can sometimes be fun to be around.”

Boggy was now staring at Tizzy and shaking his head. “So you don’t trust him, and you don’t think Tom should trust him, but he’s fun to be around?”

“Yep.” Tizzy nodded and stuck his pipe back in his mouth.

Boggy shrugged and shook his head, looking back to Tom.

~

Hilda was enjoying herself. One did not get to do much hands-on work as a saint. Pretty much by definition, you just sat there on a pedestal. This was like her mortal days, going from patient to patient, examining them and treating them. The nice part was that she had a lot more healing power as a saint than as a human.

Initial triage had been done, and many of the worst issues dealt with, but there was only so much healing to go around, at least when it came to thaumaturgy. It was relatively inefficient healing to begin with, and being mortal, the wizards had limited mana reserves and needed to sleep. Neither were a problem for a saint.

Of course, technically, one was really supposed to focus on healing the faithful and there were not a lot of those here, but they had been working in concert with the Rod to drive the demons out, so they were allies. There was no proscription against helping non-believers; it was really more of a prioritization sort of thing. If there were more believers here, she obviously would prioritize them.

Anyway, it was mainly broken bones from falling masonry, a few concussions, and some cuts and bruises. A lot of trauma, understandably. A lot of her focus today had been on the servants and apprentices that had been bowled over by fleeing demons and their paths of destruction. Like clerics, the thaumaturgists had their priorities: the city elite, meaning other wizards and their families; plus, of course, the very seriously wounded. Therefore, she was doing a lot of work with the lower classes, which suited her fine. As a saint and a former Sister of Tiernon, caring for the disadvantaged was a critical component to her ministry.

She and Danyel had come by after breakfast and gone to the reception desk and advised them of her skills and willingness to help; they had been quickly led to the main infirmary and from there assigned a young page with a list of people to visit. Currently she was in a courtyard area tending to staff who generally lived in the city proper and came for help. They had had some people from the city itself, who had been wounded by fleeing demons, held in laboratories outside the palace as well.

Technically, she supposed, as a healer, she should have been doing this yesterday, but as a spy, she had had other priorities. Hilda shook her head. The higher one rose in the ranks, the more priorities one had to manage. Danyel, who had been holding a man’s foot as she healed his broken thigh, suddenly stared over her shoulder and made a coughing noise before quickly looking down, as if hiding his face. What was his problem?

“Arch-Diocate, Vicar General, here you see a courtyard where we have healers tending to the wounded from all over the city,” a voice behind her said. She did not recognize the voice, but the titles were rather obvious. She quickly tried to adjust her healing to be more precise and focused. She had been a bit lazy and had allowed for some aura leakage. She could not let them see her doing a healing ritual. Even as she finished healing the leg, she felt the presence of a group of people behind her.

Hilda finished as quickly as was prudent and then stood and turned to face the group of people behind her. Sure enough, there was a high-ranking wizard in his mid-thirties along with someone dressed as an arch-diocate and another as a vicar general of the Rod, along with a few other Rod members. Hilda clamped down on her aura, gave a low-wattage smile and curtsied. “Holy Sirrahs,” she addressed the two senior members, “Rod members, my pleasure. I am Hilda the Healer.”

The vicar general beamed in what seemed genuine pleasure. “Amazing, My Lady.” He bowed slightly. “I hardly expected to find someone in Freehold who knew the plural protocol for addressing a senior church official and a senior Rod official in a single greeting.”

Hilda blushed slightly, both to appear natural and out of embarrassment for that slip-up. “Thank you, Vicar General. I spent my youth in Eton, where, of course, we are all familiar with the good works of both the Church and the Rod.”

“Are you of the faithful per chance?” the arch-diocate asked.

Was that a loaded question? Hilda thought to herself. She made a small grimace. “In my youth, I fear that since moving to Norelon and Freehold, I may not have attended chapel as often as I should.” She tried to look appropriately ashamed. Technically it was true; she did not actually go to chapel, although her day job was listening to prayers and entreaties from people in chapel, and for collecting mana and animus from worshipers and dispensing mana to priests engaged in higher-level rituals, typically in a chapel or other setting.

The arch-diocate smiled and shook his head. “An all too common problem when we get caught up in our daily lives. But remember, prayer and celebrating Tiernon can be revitalizing and useful for everyday life.”

Hilda nodded. “There is a chapel here in town, and I have been already; I will work on going more often.”

“Excellent, and I must say your healing is very good as well, very fluid and relaxed. You are not a thaumaturge though, correct?” the arch-diocate asked.

“Ah, no. I’m an animage, actually,” Hilda admitted. Alright—lied.

“Ah, an old-school healer. Excellent work, excellent work. Well, keep up the good work.” The arch-diocate patted her shoulder. Hilda tried not to tense as she worked to suppress any hint of her true nature. “The grace of Tiernon be with you.”

“And with you, Your Grace.” Hilda bowed her head as the party moved on. She followed them visually until they left the courtyard. She had not dared to use any Sight on them. She had no idea if they too were lying; if they had discovered her or not. If so, they were silent about it.

Danyel suddenly let his breath out loudly. “That was tense.”

Hilda smiled and gave him a pat on the back for reassurance. “Yes, rather unexpected. Definitely awkward.”

“I would have a word with you, healer,” a rather odd-sounding voice said behind her. Danyel glanced behind her and his mouth went wide. She noticed that all of the patients and aides in the courtyard were also looking behind her in shock.

~

“So you are off then?” Randolf asked Crispin.

“I fear so,” Crispin said with a smile. “The calyphs must be brought up to speed and with these wards in place, I can’t just zap to Djinnistan. I have to physically leave the city, wander off somewhere into the woods and then zap myself.”