Not the incense, fool, the Rakshasa. Don't stop!

"I bind thee by knife and by blood, by lordship earned and sacrifices offered and taken," I said. There before me in the coals a face began to form. "O Lord of the Fifth Hell, I summon thee"—and here I spoke his name. It was a spell in and of itself. I dragged the long syllables out of my memory, forced them past my lips. As ever, the end of the name was the hardest. I could feel the pressure of the Raksha on my mouth, on my lungs, trying to get me to speak too fast or stumble over my words, or best of all to fall silent—but I was not a Master by chance. Such things are commonplace when dealing with demons. If I were not able to resist and repel such attacks I would have died long since. I finished the name and stood back, for on the instant I completed it there was a creature sitting in the coals.

It was sitting because there was not room enough for it to stand in the small room. I had seen this Raksha before and knew it to be full eight feet tall. However, sitting comfortably on the glowing coals, in a semblance of a normal human body, it was surprisingly restrained. "What is it now, Gedri?" it asked. It sounded bored.

I knew better than to even appear to relax. "Thou art bound, thou art sealed to my service until I release thee."

"Yes, yes, I know," it said coolly. "What do you want?"

I had never seen this behaviour. It was disorienting. I almost stumbled over the chant I kept repeating in my mind to keep it out of my thoughts.

At that slightest suggestion that I might falter it screamed so loud my ears rang, and it leapt at me, transformed in the act into a ravening monster, horned and fanged with eyes of flame, reaching for my face with talons the length of my arm, like every demon of a child's nightmare.

I never stopped my internal chant, never loosed my hold on the spelled bonds that held it. Its lunge ended at the scribed circle as though at a brick wall. "Pathetic," I said, my voice calm and controlled. "Spare me your theatrics. I require information from you. Tell me what I need to know and I will release you."

"We have watched you, you know," it said mildly, retaining its new appearance but resuming its seat in the coals. "You entertain us."

"You are bound, creature."

"I know what you want. The way to rid yourself of the Demonlord."

"Yes," I said. The internal chant took less and less thought to continue.

"What have you to offer to me for so great a power as that knowledge would give you?"

"The price is paid already, creature. Blood and water, flesh and lansip. That is the price."

"Ah, but this is knowledge deeper than a simple summoning. You must know that." It grinned, showing several mouths in unlikely places; "You seek to change the balance of the world, little human. That is not purchased with a little strip of flesh, however tasty. I must have more."

"What more, monster? Tread carefully, foolish one. If you demand more than the knowledge is worth you will be bound to my service for a year and a day."

"You can barely hold me as it is, prey," it hissed, in a voice thick with contempt. "Sooner or later you will falter, or forget, or stumble on your words, and I will dine well with a sweet sauce of triumph."

"Stop wasting my time," I said, drawing the binding spell tighter. "What more do you demand? I would know how to rid myself of the Demonlord once I have summoned him. It is not so great a knowledge."

"It is worth much to you."

I sneered at it. "It is life and freedom to you, demon. Whose is the greater need?"

It shifted to the form of a great serpent and hissed at me, its coils writhing among the flames. "A price worthy the name, then. Lan fruit, little human! A Ian fruit, whole, or you may summon the Nameless One and die at his hands for all we care."

I did not laugh aloud, for that can be deadly, but in the privacy of my thoughts, behind the chant that kept it at bay, I laughed heartily at the demon. My sources had been right, it was not blood or flesh that would buy this but something far more rare. A lan fruit. Something no human could be expected to have. Until the autumn just past there had not been a lan fruit in Kolmar for nearly three hundred years.

"Then speak up, slowly and clearly, and tell me what I wish, for here is a Ian fruit, its skin unbroken, whole and perfect."

The demon's whole body shivered with its greed. I held the fruit just beyond its grasp.

"Behold, O starving one," I said, waving the precious thing back and forth through the air that the creature might smell it. I leaned forward, keeping both myself and the Ian fruit out of its reach, and whispered intensely, "Paradise."

It roared and the whispers began again, though they were now only one word, repeated a thousand thousand times.

give give give give give give give

"First the information," I cried, for the voices were growing louder. 'Tell me now or I eat it before your eyes."

"NO!" the thing screamed, slavering, its eyes never off the ripe gold of the Ian fruit. "I will speak, I will tell you, then if you eat it I will be free to rip open your belly and take it for myself."

"Tell me what I want to know and it is yours," I said.

It sat back then, in its nearly human form again, and looked deeply pleased with itself. "There is only one way to be rid of so powerful a demon master," it declared, "for before he died he ensured that if he lived again he would live forever. Still, for the great spell of the Distant Heart to work there must always be a way to destroy the wizard who casts it. The Demonlord declared that he could only be destroyed by a creature that, when cut, bleeds both Kantri and Gedri blood."

"No such thing exists!" I cried. "It is impossible. You lie, demon! I know the strictures of that spell, the destruction must be physically possible."

The demon shrugged. "The spell of the Distant Heart worked, so it must be possible. However, that is not my business. I have told you what you desired to know. It is truth, there is no other way to be rid of him," the demon said smugly. "Now, prey, give give give Ian fruit." I threw it at him in disgust. "Take it and get thee gone, wretched slave, be damned for all the good you have been to me," I said, but I was distracted by the news and forgot for a split second to banish it immediately.

It instantly took the chance and struck out at me, hoping to keep me off-balance long enough to free itself. In moments it had worked itself loose from half of the bindings I had laid on it, but I was racing through the exorcism and had completed it by the time it had shaken off the binding charm. I put the seal on the dismissal and banished it even as it reached for me.

I was left, shaking, alone, in the red glow from the brazier with the certain knowledge mat if I called up the Demonlord I would be stuck with him.

The third task lies before me still; the final summoning of the Demonlord, the embodying of that powerful soul and the binding of it to my service. Once I have Lanen in my hands I will speak the end of the spell and set it in motion. It will work, I know it. But after the Kantri were dead? I would still have the Demonlord on my hands, striving always to free itself. Could I—

I laughed aloud. What droughts were these, what foolishness had I been considering? Of course I could contain me Demonlord! What matter that I could not banish him? Binding spells could be reinforced easily enough. Long enough at least to find that heart of his and see whether my arts could not create such a creature as his condition demanded, or whether the physical heart he had once owned could be destroyed by simpler means. It would be a challenge, indeed.

And if all should fail? If the dragons win, if I summon the Demonlord and cannot banish him, if I cannot find Lanen, if one of a thousand things goes wrong—well, what then? I have lived now almost eighty years, and the lansip elixir has given me back fifty of them, for in the mirror and in myself I am now no more than thirty years of age.