Demon Rider

'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-