The Maelstrom

As Astaroth spoke these words, Old Tom struck ten o’clock. The notes rang clear and cold as the Demon backed slowly into the woods. And as he did, his ghostly form seemed to fade and dissipate. At last it unraveled into a wisp of vapor that scattered on the wind.

Following this strange and unsettling proposal, Max returned to the Manse. Once there, he retired to his room and remained there for two days. He did not share news of the Demon’s visit with anyone. A part of his consciousness—a hopeful sliver—wanted to believe that he had imagined the whole affair. Besides, what was he to say—that Astaroth was willing to save them in exchange for Elias Bram’s murder? Such an awful temptation might bitterly divide Rowan’s leadership when unity was needed.

Max regretted the conversation extremely. The Demon’s offer was an immense burden upon a mind and conscience already laden to capacity. He brooded over the many facets of their discussion, pacing about his room and gazing up at the starlit dome. While Astaroth never lied, he was often selective about what he shared and was perfectly willing for others to draw their own conclusions. He rarely relied on direct confrontation or brute force; his were more subtle schemes of leverage and manipulation. The Demon was notorious for moving allies and enemies about like chess pieces. Max did not fool himself that he could divine Astaroth’s grander game, but he did not have to be a pawn.

When in doubt, keep things simple.

He had no sooner resolved to speak with David when his roommate entered the observatory carrying Toby.

“Here you are,” said David, sounding distracted. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” said Max. “What’s up?”

“We’ve heard from Natasha Kiraly,” replied David, heading toward his bed. “She has the Workshop engineer and is waiting at the safe house. We’re going to make the switch.”

“Farewell, friend Max!” cried Toby. “As I set forth into peril, I do so with a full heart and no regrets. Was it Tennyson who once said—”

“Yes, it was,” snapped David, silencing the melodramatic smee. Sitting on his bed, he touched the headboard and glanced up at the stars. When Andromeda appeared, he muttered the constellation’s name and the pair promptly vanished.

Walking over, Max stared at the bed as though expecting it to perform another trick. But it disappointed him. Uneventful minutes passed until he grew bored and went down to the lower level to make a fire. Spreading a blanket upon his lap, he sat and gazed into the crackling hearth.

Twenty minutes passed before David reappeared. Max saw him rounding the upper story’s ledge and leading a confused-looking man by a slender, glowing cord. The engineer blinked and gazed about, his silvery hair standing straight up as though he had been electrocuted.

“I’d have been back sooner, but Toby needed to ‘get into character,’ ” sighed David. “Let me take Dr. Bechel down to Miss Boon and I’ll be back. Our guest won’t have anything useful to say until the effects of the passive fetter wear off.” He paused and looked attentively at Max. “Are you all right?”

“We need to talk.”

“Give me an hour and I’m yours.”

David made good on his promise. Before the clock struck six, he eased into the armchair across from Max and kicked off his shoes.

“Ah,” he sighed, wiggling his toes. “Much better. Now, what’s the matter?”

“Astaroth visited me,” replied Max. “Two days ago, by Rose Chapel.”

David raised his eyebrows but said nothing as Max relayed every detail he could recall. When he had finished, David gave a bemused smile.

“Well, I have to applaud his generosity,” he reflected. “That’s a far better proposal than the one Prusias made. In exchange for one life, we save thousands and our realm besides. We don’t even have to surrender the gae bolga or suffer another embassy on our lands. It’s very tempting.” The sorcerer chuckled.

“David, I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” He shrugged. “Or at least half serious. I may despise Astaroth, but I pity him, too.”

Max glanced at David’s wrist, the puckered stump where the Demon had bitten off his hand.

“Why would you of all people pity him?”

“Your conversation with him was very telling,” said David, rubbing his eyes. “To reiterate Astaroth’s point, he still holds all the cards. With the Book of Thoth, he can destroy this world—wipe the slate clean anytime he chooses and yet he doesn’t! Instead, he visits you and makes a personal appeal. Why should he do such a thing?”

“To use me as a weapon against your grandfather,” Max brooded, staring at the fire.

“Possibly,” David allowed. “That’s undoubtedly part of his objective, but I think there’s more. Astaroth could have stated those terms far more directly. Instead he tried very hard to justify himself to you, to convince you that he’s not a mere tyrant or mass murderer. He tried to persuade you that his vision is grand and worthwhile—that it will benefit all once it reaches fruition.”

Max nodded, uncertain where his roommate was going.

“But why should he remotely care whether you or anyone else approves?” laughed David. “Why should Astaroth entertain any objections or resistance when he has the means to obliterate them?”

“I have no idea.”

“Perhaps I do,” mused David, tapping the armrest. “Astaroth doesn’t want power for its own sake—he finds that juvenile and crude. And despite his stated interest in creation, we know that creation alone doesn’t satisfy him. After all, he already possesses the means to destroy or create almost anything he wishes. Strange as it sounds, I think what he really craves is consent … consent and admiration. Astaroth believes in his vision, and he desperately wants us to believe as well. And to love him for it.”

“Well, at least he’s insecure,” Max quipped. “That’s a comfort.”

“Cold comfort,” remarked David, shaking his head. “I far prefer an enemy like Prusias. He’s cunning, brutal, and greedy, but he’s also pragmatic. Prusias wants what he wants, and he’ll gladly bash you over the head until you give it to him. The King of Blys is content with slaves, but Astaroth demands followers.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Oh, there’s a big one. A tyrant like Prusias doesn’t really care why you obey him; he only cares that you obey. But Astaroth is a fanatic. He wants true believers who share his ideals. Fanatics are scary, Max. Ultimately, they’d rather burn the board than let someone else win the game.”

“Astaroth said the same things about your grandfather,” Max reflected.

“He’s not wrong,” said David. “Astaroth and my grandfather have more in common than they’d probably care to admit. The Archmage may be family, but I harbor no illusions about him—I know he is a dangerous man. And given this, I think you should tell him about Astaroth’s offer. It will be best coming from you.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” said Max sheepishly. “I don’t want him to be suspicious of me.”

“It’s your choice,” said David. “But have you considered that my grandfather may already know about the Demon’s proposal? In fact, I would guess that Astaroth has already told him.”

Max had been tapping the profile of a raven engraved upon the gae bolga’s scabbard. He stopped and glanced at David, who was eyeing him thoughtfully.

“Why would Astaroth warn the very person he’s trying to kill?”

“Because he’s a strategist,” David replied. “Astaroth knows the chances of you acting upon his offer are slim— it’s simply not your nature to murder someone in cold blood, no matter what the reward. Now, if you do and say nothing about it—as is likely—Astaroth has not gained anything by making the offer. But if my grandfather also knows about the proposal, many more possibilities unfold. At a minimum, the prospect of your treachery is a considerable distraction to the Archmage. In the best case, the information triggers a violent confrontation between the two of you. So long as Elias Bram knows about the offer, Astaroth is guaranteed an outcome with some value. It’s basic game theory. And so I think you should tell my grandfather, Max. The more forthcoming you are, the less suspicious he will be.”

“I don’t see why Astaroth doesn’t just do the job himself,” said Max. “If he wants Bram dead so badly, I would think he could do it whenever he wishes.”

“Not with the Book,” said David mildly. “In this world, the Book of Thoth has no power over my grandfather or anyone else in my family. If it did, Astaroth would have destroyed me long ago.”