There had only been one King of Kings of Esmirthe human, Alisarrian. It was Manacia's deeply held belief the time was ripe for another such historic occurrence. He was determined this time a demon would hold that scepter. There was no question that demon should be him. Manacia's entire reign had been dedicated to that goal. Yet as the years passed he began to fear he wouldn't be ready in time. That somewhere in the human lands another Alisarrian may have been bred. A conqueror with an army at his back who'd soon come knocking on his palace doors.

One night, as he prowled his Necromancium wondering if the answer to his troubles was hidden in the blackest of magical arts, there came the tap tap tap of Lord Fari's cane, the ghostly herald of the Grand Wazier's approach. When he heard the tapping Manacia turned away from a large jar containing a human head floating in brine. As he looked up Fari came through the portal, the air shimmering like the surface of a vertical pool.

"What news, Lord Fari? the king asked with exaggerated cheer. Has our wayward bandit finally returned?"

Fari, whose mind was deeply engaged in another matter, jolted up, scaly jowls rolling in a wave of surprise. What, Majesty? he asked. Then, Oh. You mean, Lord Sarn, Excellency. No, Majesty. There's still no word. I'm here on another matter, Excellency. One that requires your urgent attention."

But Manacia abruptly turned away, plunged into as foul a mood as he'd ever experienced. I've reviewed it from every side, Fari, he said. And I still don't see where I went wrong."

"Wrong, Majesty? Fari said. How can you think that? Give it more time. He'll appear any day now, loaded with spoils, bearing the maps you sought and demanding an enormous reward in that swaggering manner of his. Fari snorted. As if he were the only real fiend in the land."

"It's been nearly a year, Fari, Manacia said.

"So long, Majesty? I hadn't realized…"

"I might as well face it, the king said. I've wasted enough time and energy that could be put to a more positive use. Despite all our efforts, all our experiments and labors, the shield we built to protect Sarn from the curse wasn't good enough. And somewhere in the Forbidden Desert, perhaps just out of sight, his bones and his fiends bones are bleaching in the sun."

Fari thought, quite correctly, that perhaps the shield hadn't failed at all. Some natural misfortune might have befallen the bandit chief. But he hadn't lived so long by telling his monarchs what he truly thought. So when he saw which path the king was taking he quickly stepped in that direction.

He made a mournful face. I fear you are right, Excellency, he said. The shield has failed. I'll find out at once who is responsible for this appalling state of affairs and have them suitably tortured and put to death."

The king bared his fangs in what was meant to be a kindly smile. Spare them, he said. I too share the blame. And you as well, my dear friend."

Fari gaped, revealing whiter and sharper teeth than he had a right to own at his advanced age. Me, Majesty? What did I He wisely clipped that off. He rapped his bone cane and bowed. My name should top that list of failures, Excellency, he said. Tonight my wives will sing your praises when I tell them how you so generously spared this noble fool. Of course it was my fault! I take the whole blame, Majesty. A blame you should never dream of sharing."

Manacia waved a claw, silencing him. You know who this is, Fari? he asked, pointing at the human head floating in the jar.

The Grand Wazier stared at it. The human was a young adult. Possibly handsome onceby human standards. No, Excellency, I don't know him."

"This is the first creature I used to test the shield. Manacia chuckled. We tied a rope to his waist and used whips to drive him out into the Forbidden Desert. He'd taken not more than a dozen steps when he suddenly screamed, clutched his breast and fell to the ground. When we dragged him back he was dead, although there wasn't a mark on him to hint of the cause. He was a healthy creature straight from the royal slave pens. Clean. Well fed. I examined him myself. There was no reason for his death, other than the curse."

"I recall the incident, Majesty, Fari said, but not the human."

"How could you? Manacia said. There were so many. Demons as well. They were the worst kind of felons, of course."

"Of course, Majesty."

Manacia stared at the head, remembering the four years of experiments. He'd labored hard, delved into every nook and cranny of the magical sciences, casting spell after spell to create a shield strong enough to defy the ancient curse. The curse had been created hundreds of years before by a Treaty Council composed of both demon and human wizards. Its purpose was to permanently sever all contact between the two species, permanently ending the years of bloody strife and war-ravaged harvests that followed the fall of Alisarrian's empire. It was believed by all the curse would be impossible for even the greatest sorcerer to render harmless.

Manacia believed otherwise. He was not only a powerful wizardstronger than any other in the demon landsbut he had a mind for such puzzles and had attacked the curse full force with all the sorcerous resources at his command. Hundreds had died in those experiments. Body after body was dragged back at the end of a rope. But Manacia had hope because each time the victims crept a little further into the desert. The last group made it so far the king's archers had to fire arrows at them to force them to go deeper. Finally, all who were sent out returned unharmed. The shield appeared to work so well Manacia had to have the survivors killed so they couldn't use his spell to escape across the desert.

It was then he made his bargain with Sarn. The king had personally attended the bandit's departure. He'd praised the thief greatly, cast a special spell of blessings and watched Sarn and his friends thunder off into the desert for the human lands to seek Kyraniathe passage through the Valley of the Clouds that the Oracle had spoken of. The passage that was the key to forging the two great human regions into a great kingdom.

Manacia's hopes had been high that day. He was already dreaming of the time when his armies could follow. He had visions of swift and easy victories over the humans. Once he had a dream of a grand court ceremony, with human ambassadors bowing before his throne, bearing treaties that declared him King of Kings. Ruler of all Esmir.

Manacia peered into the human's dead eyes. He was certain it was the human side of the sorcerous equation that had foiled him. A side he somehow had not been able to penetrate. It was for this reason, not sentimentality, that Manacia had the head of his first victim displayed in his Necromancium. It was here in this vaulted chamber of watery light that his collection of black arts and books and materials were kept. There were jars and vials of the most evil liquids and powders and unguents. There were scrolls detailing horrid practices and spells. There were strange objects and idols with shapes so menacing they'd haunt the dreams of the most callous and uncaring demon.

Manacia rapped his talons against the jar. The liquid stirred and the head bobbed about. We'll begin again, my friend, he said to the skull. And once more you shall have the honor of being first."

He turned to the Grand Wazier. We'll start in the morning, he said. Have my wizards meet me here at first light. I'll solve this riddle no matter how long it takes."

"That's the spirit, Majesty, Fari said. Never admit defeat. Consider it an unpleasant setback, nothing more. I'll send word to the royal wizards at once!"

He turned as if to go, hesitated, then turned back, saying, There's still that other matter, Excellency. The matter that forced me to come here and disturb your thinking."