C. Brittain - A Bad Spell in Yurt

I almost believed him. But the Diplomatica Diabolica made it clear how full of trickery a demon could be. I had no more competence or good ideas; all I had left was stubbornness. “No,” I said again. “You wouldn’t now be offering me anything for my soul if you already had it.”

“So you aren’t interested in the powers black magic could give you,” the demon said thoughtfully. “Maybe this will interest you. I can offer you the queen.”

I gasped so suddenly that my mouth was full of the evil fumes I had been trying hard not to breathe. By the time I had finished coughing, I was able to make my lips say, “No,” although at the last moment they almost said, “Yes.”

“But think about it!” I was thinking about it. “That head of midnight hair lying on the pillow next to yours, those emerald eyes and that smile greeting you every morning, those soft arms greeting you every night-”

“You can’t know what I think!” I cried.

“And you could prolong her life to match your own. Two hundred years of bliss together! And for what? Agreeing to give up a soul you’ve already thrown away years ago. I’d even let the Lady Maria go.”

“But-what about the king?”

“He’s an old man already. He won’t be a problem.”

I breathed very shallowly, feeling I was choking. “You’ve made a mistake there, Demon. I’m not going to do anything that would hurt the king. You lost your chance that the Lady Maria gave you, to take the rest of his years from him, and you’re not going to get a second chance from me.”

“So wait a little while, and the problem will solve itself anyway,” said the demon casually. “When he dies naturally, as you know he will within a few years, I can make sure the queen’s affections turn at once toward you.”

“No,” I repeated, looking at the floor because I did not dare look at him. A viper was crawling near my foot but I didn’t even bother to move. “I would not consider two hundred years with her as two hundred years of bliss if I knew I owed her love to you.”

The demon laughed, a deep laugh now that seemed to resonate in his belly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you liked the Lady Maria better than the queen!”

The viper moved away. I forced myself to look up again. His mention of the Lady Maria brought me back to the knowledge of why I was here in the first place. “I’m only making one bargain with you,” I said. I had to drag this discussion back to the reason I had originally come, before the demon tricked me out of my soul without conceding anything, or he simply killed me with fear.

He was now more than twice as large as I was. An enormous belly hung over his knees, and he leered down at me from near the ceiling. “You can’t bargain for the Lady Maria. She sold herself to the devil.”

“One can always bargain with the devil,” I said with as much confidence as I could. I was moving back now toward the points set out in the Diplomatica Diabolica. But I wondered how I could ever have imagined the negotiations would be straightforward.

“A soul for a soul, of course,” said the demon in deep, resonant tones. “But why should the devil make any bargains for your soul when it already belongs to him?”

“I do not offer my soul,” I said formally in the Hidden Language. “Besides,” I added firmly, “my soul does not belong to the devil.” The black despair in the pit of my stomach did not believe that, but maybe the demon did. “I offer only my life.”

“A life for a soul is not a good bargain.”

“It is if the soul isn’t really yours to begin with!” I stopped myself. This was not the prescribed negotiating language, but I did not think I had made any serious mistakes so far. “Binding negotiations!” I remembered then to say.

The demon nodded his enormous head. He once again had grown horns.

I put my hand over my eyes, visualizing the page in the book. “First and most importantly, her intention was never evil. A soul is judged on intent, and if you took her soul you took it on the flimsiest grounds. Secondly!” as the demon seemed about to interrupt. “She may have gained some advantages for herself, but she brought no evil to anyone else.”

“She nearly killed the king,” said the demon with another leer.

“No, you nearly killed the king. She has never wished any harm to anyone.”

The demon did not answer. Taking his silence for agreement, I pushed desperately on. “Her soul may be yours, but only on the slimmest technicality. Therefore!” I paused to make sure I had the words absolutely right before I spoke. “I have come to offer you the following bargain. You shall release the Lady Maria’s soul and return at once without it to hell. Before you go, you can take my life, but my soul must be judged on its own merits.”

“But I like it here in Yurt,” said the demon with what would have been petulance in a smaller being.

The last of my strength gathered itself into fury. If the demon was able to delay for only a few more moments, I would throw myself at his feet and promise anything in return for my life, and he knew it. “Binding negotiations!” I cried. “You have to answer!”

“All right,” he said with a slow smile. “I would be delighted to take your life. I agree.”

“Formally!” I shouted as the enormous mouth opened, revealing more teeth than ever. “You must agree formally!”

The mouth closed slowly, and long flames darted from the demon’s eyes. “By Satan, by Beelzebub, by Lucifer and Mephistopheles,” he said finally.

This at last was the beginning of the correct terms of a binding engagement. I concentrated as hard as I could through the roaring in my ears, watching for the slightest deviant word.

“In the space of what you in the natural world call one minute, I shall return to hell, not to return to this world unless deliberately summoned by woman or man.”

Joachim had told me, I reminded myself, that he thought that someone who gave his life for another would save his own soul. But I also remembered that he would have to ask the bishop to be sure in a case like this.

“I release, give up, and free the soul of the Lady Maria.”

So far, so good.

“But before I go, you shall die.” The demon’s last semblance of a human form was going fast, but he still had a face that grinned at me. “Agreed and accepted?”

I started to speak, could not, swallowed twice, and tried again. “Agreed and accepted.”

My eyes went black as the enormous mouth full of razor-sharp teeth bent toward my neck. The last thing I heard was the demon’s booming voice. “See you in the afterlife, Daimbert!” The last thing I felt, even before the jaws reached me, was his iron forefinger burning against my chest. It passed effortlessly through skin, muscle, and bone, until it touched my heart, which leaped once more and was still.

The afterlife was wet and extremely cold. For a long time, which could have been hours and could have been months-although I expected they reckoned time differently here-there had been nothing but confusion, of colors, black, white, and red, of giant wings, of spaces in which I knew nothing and spaces in which I could hear myself screaming. But now everything was calm and completely dark.

I wondered with mild curiosity where I was. Purgatory, probably, which meant that they hadn’t yet decided what to do with me. At least hell would have to be warmer than lying in purgatory in half an inch of icy water.

Very far away, I heard a door creaking. Maybe they had made up their minds. Steps were coming toward me, deliberate and slow. I turned my head stiffly, interested enough to want to know if it was an angel coming for me or the devil. To my surprise, it was carrying a candle. Somehow I had not expected them to need candles in the afterlife.