God's Demon

Minister had been reminiscing himself or had been questioning his lord’s decision. Eligor would never know. He put the book aside unsure whether he would read it himself or simply return it to the Library.

As the two demons filled the small carts, the rooms’ clutter melted away, revealing, one by one, the bare surfaces of their many desktops. Eligor could not help but think the rooms looked, if possible, even sadder relieved of their friendly clutter. It was as if the demons were erasing the hand of Valefar.

After nearly a day of sorting and stacking, the carts were filled to overflow and Eligor and Fyrmiax, leaning against the corridor wall exhausted, watched as six demons trundled them off. Tired and dispirited but glad that the job was done, Eligor wordlessly clapped Fyrmiax on the shoulder, and the other Demon Minor nodded and began down the corridor.

There was only one act left, and that was to seal the chambers. Eligor took a final look at the familiar, once- inviting rooms, picked up the large volume, and closed the door behind him. He produced the red seal that Sargatanas had given him and, with a wave of his hand, floated it directly over the door’s lintel. When the seal was in place he uttered a command and watched the complex glyph replicate itself dozens of times until a hundred identical copies had slowly outlined the door frame. He then extended his hand to touch the door and a hundred swift glyph-arrows converged to prevent him from making contact; had he persisted he would have been destroyed. He pulled his stinging hand back. It was done.

The tome tucked under his arm, Eligor took a deep breath and headed back to his chambers. He would try to forget this day but knew that, like so many other dark days, he probably never would.

DIS

“Will you be able to do this, Chancellor General?”

Nergar’s voice, which seemed to come from somewhere far off, sounded concerned, but Adramalik knew better than that. The Chief of Security was sure to be enjoying Adramalik’s profound misery.

“Of course, Lord Nergar,” he said with little conviction. Adramalik felt as if he were not really there in the Keep’s Basilica of Security, not really sitting in the small, featureless, brick-walled room with the despicable Nergar awaiting the arrival of Prime Minister Agares.

Adramalik closed his eyes again and, this time, thought of the pain as some kind of a parasite, something recently acquired that now lived within him, feeding off his body with a blind hunger. He had seen such creatures far out in the Wastes, attached by the dozens to Abyssals that could barely move for the collective weight of them. Then he could hardly imagine the host’s pain. But now he could.

The ragtag survivors of the Battle of the Flaming Cut had filtered back to Dis, exhausted and miserable, and most had been greeted with summary destruction. Beelzebub’s manifold anger had spared no one, and to his shame, Adramalik bore the unenviable distinction of being the highest-ranking demon to return. Knowing that he could not afford to be without his personal bodyguard, the Prince had determined to inflict as much pain upon his Knights as they could endure before they were entirely broken. The ceaseless moaning in the Knights’ quarters was unending testimony to their Prince’s patience. Adramalik, himself, had not been exempt, and now, some weeks later, he still wondered if it might have been better to destroy himself on the field of battle. As the unpredictable waves of searing pain ebbed and flowed throughout him he still toyed with the idea. Beelzebub’s Invocation of Atonement would only stop when the Prince chose to lift it. And he was not known for his forgiveness.

Adramalik opened his eyes and looked across the room into the shadowed corner where Nergar sat. A single light-glyph cast a partial radiance upon the room, but even in the gloom Adramalik could see the demon’s chiseled features, features that many believed were not his own. There was something too perfect, too angelic, about them to have survived the Fall so minimally affected.

“He is late,” Nergar said.

“Would you be eager to sit down and be questioned by us?”

“If I was blameless…”

Adramalik heard footsteps and turned to see the tall demon enter the room. He could see Nergar’s escort taking up position behind the door. The Prime Minister, usually so proper in his mien as well as his dress, looked ruffled and slightly unkempt, as if he had been just awakened; open concern was written upon his tight, severe features.

“It is late and I was resting. Why have you had me roused and brought here?” His creaky, indignant voice was muffled somewhat by interrupted rest, further indication of his having been brought to the Basilica hastily.

“You do not know?” Adramalik asked.

“No,” Agares said flatly.

“You were telling… who was it, Lord Nergar…?”

“Baphomeres.”

“You were telling Baphomeres that you felt Lilith was better off wherever she was. That is what you said, is this not so?”

“What of it, Adramalik? She is. No one could doubt that, not even you.”

“Baphomeres is one of Nergar’s demons… a lowly, covert Security functionary, actually.” He saw Agares wince slightly. “As for me, it is not my place in the court of Beelzebub to judge him and his relationship with his Consort. Is it yours?'

Agares stared at the Chancellor General. He was now attentive and on guard, the gravity of the interview obvious to him. His silvered eyes glittered intensely.

“Perhaps not.”

Nergar cleared his throat. “Can you tell us anything regarding the disappearance of the Consort?”

Agares looked down.

“I can only tell you what you know already, that she departed, incognito, from the Sixth Gate. No one knows where she went from there.”

“Had you seen her shortly before her departure?” Adramalik asked.

“Yes.”

“How did she seem?”

“She was understandably distraught. Her handmaiden had just been—”

“We know,” said Adramalik without feeling. That one had gotten what she deserved. “Did you comfort the Consort?”

Agares looked at him angrily, small flames licking from his flared nostrils.

“Remember to whom you are speaking, Chancellor General. I am the Prime Minister of Dis, the capital of Hell. I resent your collective implications, I resent I your having brought me here at this time of night, and… and I resent you.”

“That is as it may be, Duke Agares, but your behavior is now an open question.”

Agares looked from one demon to the other and, after a long moment, said evenly, “As Prime Minister it is my duty to look after the well-being of the Prince’s interests. That includes, by my understanding, his Consort.”

Adramalik considered this. “There is a difference between looking after his interests and countering whatever the Prince has implemented as his personal policy. By comforting the Consort you chose to counter his punishment of her through her handmaiden.”

“The very real question for you to ponder,” Nergar interjected, sounding very reasonable, “is just how is the Prince going to feel about your role in all of this? Especially now that his Consort has not been brought back to him.”

“My role?” Agares sputtered. He jerked his thumb at Adramalik. “Ask him why Lilith has not been returned.”

Adramalik clenched his jaw. The pain was back with teeth, and Agares’ bluntness was almost too much to suffer.

“The Prince already has,” said Nergar, “and the Chancellor General is paying, in his own small way, for it. It is now time for your master, through us. to turn to you.”

“I have told you what little there is to say. Do I feel that Lilith is better off now? I have already said as much. Did I help her leave Dis? No. And you will never prove otherwise. Now,” Agares said, rising, wavering slightly, “may I retire to my chambers?”

Adramalik stood as well; he felt fractionally better on his feet. “You may, Prime Minister, but I would not expect too much rest, if I were you. We are, after this interview, bound for the Rotunda and must deliver our conclusions to the Prince. You will be sure to hear his response before the night is over.”