Chapter 15: Kidnapped!

Nevianne

We made an unseemly but hilarious celebration around the glassy cast where the imp’s body had been. When he had gone up, he had gone up spectacularly; the sand we had thrown at him had turned to glass, the bits of clay in it had turned to ceramic, and the organic parts of the soil – leaves and mulch – had simply vaporized. All of us had felt the last blast of heat.

The personal war cry of my lord and his servant was “yee-hoo!” The two men bumped bellies, wiggled their butts, and then lifted Chulëntët so she could bump bellies too. The three of them did an impromptu victory dance, shuffling in a circle around the glassy cast, howling like animals, and interrupting the howls by patting their hands against their mouths, going “woo-woo-woo!” The noise was horrific. I helped them make it, joined by Mother and Blæda and even Winky.

It was fun for all of us, a reaction to the horror of fighting off the evil creature called up from some nether region, wherever it was. Even timid Sabina joined in the little celebration, once she stopped shaking, actually laughing and dancing.

Eventually we had to stop, of course. For one thing, even though this stretch of road wasn’t heavily traveled, there were still some people using it. One group was a squad of cavalry, a half turma of sixteen men. They had been coming our way at their normal walk, on routine patrol. A passing carriage had told them about the carnage ahead of them. The troops had arrived at a gallop, to find us congratulating each other. Their decurion asked us what had happened. I told him, leaving out the parts about Chulëntët and Asmodeus’ magical participation and the imp’s involvement with Palégos. His report would go higher and it would draw attention to us, so we wanted no mention.

The decurion was a Susquehannock, with a dark tough guy’s face and as many tattoos on his arms that fit. He dismounted and squatted next to the glass and ceramic cast. He could make out the outline of the creature. He poked it with a stick, and the stick broke. The broken end started to smoke. “Pretty hot,” he said in poor Saxon.

“He was breathing fire at us,” Asmodeus told him.

“He threw fireballs at us too,” Mother told him.

“And the the pair of you fought him off?” he asked.

“All but Sabina and my daughter took part,” Nannakussi told him.

“I helped too!” Chulëntët said indignantly.

“My daughter helped too,” Nannakussi said, in the fond tone of a father indulging his daughter, even though she was telling tall tales.

The decurion’s expression said he discounted the child’s part in the defense. He gave a quick order in Latin and two troopers dismounted. He measured the cast with a length of string, cut it and rolled it up, putting it in his pouch. The troopers took hammers from their saddle pouches and started breaking up the cast that was a hazard to navigation. They tossed the pieces into the grass to one side of the road once they were cool enough to pick up.

The decurion remounted while they were busy, resting a notebook on one knee. “I’ll need your names for my report,” he told us, “and a description of what went on.”

“I am Iacus Flavius of Flumen Martii,” Asmodeus lied to him through his teeth, “a grain merchant by trade. We are on our way to Cascina on business. I and my servants are traveling with Nevianne, her mother Leofgif, and Blæda, all of Sandy Isle.”

“The servants’ names?” he asked.

“Sekappi, his wife Weeji-pahki-helex-kwe, their daughter Chulens, and Sabina, my concubine,” my Prince of Lies said with a straight face.

“Lucky you were traveling with three strong witches,” the decurion grunted as he made his notes.

“We were very lucky,” my lord agreed solemnly.

I figured that if my lord could lie like that, so could I. “We had heard there was an imp or a demon terrorizing passers-by. We felt bound to try and help. Citizen Iacus and his servants helped us by shooting arrows at the thing. Mother called the rain showers. I deflected fireballs. The rain was what did the real work.”

“I don’t doubt it,” said the decurion. His tone suggested that if we’d done nothing, the rain would have washed the imp away. I felt a mild sense of resentment at having our efforts discounted like that, but we didn’t want to be remarkable. The imp was what was remarkable, and if we weren’t forgettable the episode was likely to come to the attention of Palégos. He already had his eye on us, and we wanted to slip out from under it. Just the hope that we would was small enough.

I just hoped the Wizard hadn’t gotten to the actual story when he had been trying to control Chulëntët. She had seen his thoughts. Chances were good that he had seen hers.

Nannakussi

The knowledge that my tiny daughter, barely as tall as my waist, was already a witch, made me both proud of her and fearful for her. Not only was she a witch, but she was among the most powerful witches I had ever encountered. Yet even great witches had been defeated in times gone by, some of them by me, and would be again. A tiny witch with almost no experience would be in much more danger than she realized. All I could do was rely on my domina and my dominus to protect her. My own powers were too small to provide serious help. Until being taught to make fire, I had had no power but the Wit.

Serving the King of Demons was a more pleasant life for me than ever had been serving the Wizard of the East. Lord Palégos had a wide streak of cruelty to him. When I had dispatched his enemies before, he had chided me for not making them suffer. I made it as quick and as painless as I could. Someday I too would be on my way to the next world, as Lord Asmodeus had demonstrated with my men. That had been reinforced by the Evil Imp of Vegesela. If I preferred my own trip to the West to be smooth, why deny others? We will all eventually go to live in the West, but not all of us will be allowed where the hunting is good. The gods in concert weigh our deeds at the end.

Asmodeus was the opposite of Palégos. He was like a mirror image, in fact. He had a wide streak of kindness to him, coupled with the ruthless core that had cost me ten good men. The fact led me to think hard on the subject of demons; if he was a fallen angel, as the archbishop described him, had he renounced his fall? Had he rejoined the gods? There was no answer for me. He told me often that he was no demon, merely a man like me, only six inches taller. He said he had no knowledge of the gods, neither denying nor accepting.

Perhaps that was the key. I felt the will of the gods in all that I did. Nanapush was my patron deity, as he was for most of my people. I tried to live my life in a manner I thought he might approve. Kishelamàkânk had created the world and all who live in it. He didn’t bother to rule it. He had sent Nanapush to resolve the disputes of men. He had made tobacco grow and he had made the first pipe, so that men might smoke and resolve their disputes with clear minds.