Demonworld (43 page)

Agmar cleared his throat politely, said, “If I may introduce ourselves-”

“
You may
,” Filius said magnanimously.

“
My name is Agmar Epemi, and this is my associate, Wodan. We have heard of your reputation for kindness, and though we wish to do business, we have little to offer in the face of your greatness.”

Wodan wanted to laugh. As exhaustion overtook his awareness, the dwarf and his ridiculous entourage became surreal beyond belief. He had difficulty following Agmar’s plea for a ship and a slave crew. To see a man who, until now, had never been anything but paternal and hyper-rational turn into a raging sycophant only added to the dreamlike unreality of the situation. Wodan suppressed a yawn, then smiled at one of the slave girls. She had a mound under her dress, rich black hair, and purple eye makeup that concealed a great bruise. She looked away quickly.

The black-haired boy that Agmar had chased away earlier wandered up to the group. The group paid him no mind. Wodan noticed the boy’s collar again, then saw that Filius’s half-wits and slave girls also wore dog collars. The boy stared directly at Wodan.

“
A ship,” said Filius, “and a captain and crew? Not a problem, my friend, and I would be more than happy to oblige. But, you ask for so little - I must insist that you take my entire fortune as well, and perhaps even myself, as your devoted slave.”

There was a long delay, then the slave girls and armed men laughed weakly. Agmar looked downcast.

The crowd exploded with applause. Wodan saw the musician curse wildly, then he turned up the jar of urine. The narrator pointed and said, “The winner! The winner!” and the crowd laughed. The famous drunk cut a neat jig as he held his pants up with one hand.

“
You joke, sir,” said Agmar.

“
Funny,” said Filius, “I thought that
you
were the one playing
me
for a fool. Listen, mortal: Ships are worth a small fortune. A ship costs far more than the amount of gold you can carry around in your raggedy purse. I’m sure such an amount would stagger your comprehension. Furthermore, each of
my
ships is a vessel worth ten times any other man’s.”

“
Ah,” said Agmar, “then perhaps we should seek business with men who have more affordable vessels.”

“
Nonsense!” said Filius. “As the richest man in the world – nay, as the richest man in all the
history
of the world - I have in my fleet ships both expensive and thriftily-priced. Ask any other merchant, and he will hum and haw in indecision, then make fun of your appearance, then refuse to deal with you. I, on the other hand, can offer my wares at a discount, and will gladly get rid of a number of my slaves, who I am sure you will find as worthless as I have.”

This is absurd
, Wodan thought.
Why not state a price and be done with it? Or is he after something more than money?

“
Master,” said the slave boy, “we do have that one ship, you know, the one you’ve been wanting to get rid of...”

“
Who pulled your string!” the dwarf raged. “God
damn
you, boy!”

“
You said yourself that it was worth nothing to us anymore, it’s so old.”

“
Ten lashes for every impertinent word that slides off your tongue!” said the dwarf. “And ten more for the cost of burying your whore of a mother!”

The boy’s face flashed red and he stared at the ground, grinding his jaw.

“
Sir,” said Wodan, “I’ll take that pile of junk off your hands and sink it for you. It probably costs more to keep that thing in port than it’s worth, I’m sure.”

“
Spare me your malicious words,” said Filius, turning slowly to Wodan. “That vessel has seen high adventure the likes of which your pale face could not dream of. I will not part with the
Hero of Old
for less than... well, more than you could ever give.”

“
Just listen to us, for a moment,” said Wodan, and Agmar jerked in his seat, terrified that Wodan would say the wrong thing. “We have no cash at the moment, but we have plenty of goods to barter. Specifically, horses and guns. You could supply a small army with them and knock over one of your competitors. Or start a demolition racing league where every rider is equipped with a gun and a single bullet. By giving up a single ship you don’t even want in the first place, you could build a gambling enterprise that would have money constantly pouring out of it.”

The dwarf lowered his face and stared at Wodan. He twiddled his thumbs slowly, almost cruelly. “Not! Interested!” he said.

“
I didn’t think you would be,” said Wodan. “That was a feint.”

“
What!” said the dwarf.

“
I can see that people do not understand you because they see only the material evidence of your power. But you, Filius, are interested in the more obscure manifestations of power. I see now why you speak of gods and money in the same breath.”

The dwarf’s eyes spun around as if he had been caught cheating at a game the rules of which were known only by himself.

“
I have something to offer you which no one else has ever offered before,” said Wodan, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial tone. “Filius, for this ship, I offer you
my
soul
.”

“
You wouldn’t!” said the dwarf. His armed men opened their eyes wide. One slave girl covered her mouth while another shielded the child in her belly.

“
We’ll write up a contract,” said Wodan, “and I’ll sign it in blood and seal it with my own seed.”

“
Demon’s perineum,” the dwarf said, chewing his tongue. “Now
that’s
something no other merchant in this town ever got before.”

Wodan stood. “I’ll let you iron out the details with my associate,” he said, smiling. “I’m going to get a drink.”

Wodan rose from his seat and a heavily armed man twice his size nearly tripped as he rushed to give Wodan space to move. Wodan walked away with all the poise and nobility of a fearless master of the dark arts; as soon as he was out of view of the others, he leaned against a chair and regained his breath.

Finally!
he thought.
I beat them at their own sick game!

He looked about to find his friends, then Jarl the Entertainer walked into him. His eyes were glazed and oblivious. He began to bend his legs as if preparing to sit in a chair, then Wodan realized the man was completely drunk and was in the process of falling down. Wodan grabbed his arm and steadied him.

After a long time Jarl finally noticed Wodan beside him, then said, “There you are! I’ve been meaning to tell you something, Wigmo. Did you know?”

“
Know what?” said Wodan.

“
Did you know that the history of the world is the history of the war between secret societies?”

“
Is that a fact?” said Wodan. He looked about to see if there was a place where Jarl could be laid down so that he wouldn’t hurt himself or puke on any dangerous mercenaries.

“
Oh yes,” said Jarl. “
Oh yes
. The people of Pontius hate the Ugly youth who roam the streets, fighting and robbing and running from the Law, but then those same people go to churches funded and staffed by high-ranking Ugly who worship demons and hide hideous mutilations under their clean white robes. The people of Pontius thank the Smiths for guarding technology and making sure that people don’t destroy themselves as the Ancients once did, but it’s obvious to anyone with their eyes open that every gun wielded by the Ugly and the Coil and even the Law bears the mark of the golden gear of the Smiths. People beg the Law to pass more strict laws year after year even though the legal system is already so labyrinthine and complicated that no single human could ever possibly understand it, much less find an ounce of freedom in that sea of restriction, and yet it’s a fact that the Lawmen really only serve the wealthy.” Jarl waited a moment, swaying back and forth, then shouted, “
Did you know that, boy!
”

“
I didn’t,” said Wodan. “It sounds-”

“
And my own secret order,” said Jarl, interrupting him, “has in its possession numerous historical documents which date back, we believe, to the time of the Ancients. They were obsessed with war and control. Did you know
that
, boy? I think a lot of people believe that flesh demons were on earth before mankind. A few believe that man came first, and that we should try to recreate the utopian paradise that the Ancients once lived in. But do you know, boy, that the historical records we have from those times contradict one another continually? Wars were fought and were won and lost by both sides, simultaneously. Leaders were murdered in cold blood in one account, and those same leaders were alive and well and quite popular with their people in other accounts. Truth was putty in their hands. We’ve even had members of our own order, respected researchers mind you, who were convinced that the Ancients were time travelers who fought wars against one another by constantly changing events in order to gain an upper hand. Sounds mad, I know, but that’s just how muddled and slippery their historical account is.”

Jarl’s head began to dip and Wodan knew the man was about to go down. Wodan propped him up, laughing as they danced about awkwardly. Someone bumped into him roughly. Wodan steadied Jarl, then turned to apologize to the other.

His heart clenched on a block of ice.

An Ugly was right beside him, covered in scars and seething with an aura of hatred. Jagged pink flesh stretched out around his eyes, and smoke poured from holes that were punched in his cheeks. He glared down at Wodan and gripped the handle of a knife that was strapped to his chest.

Soul Bartering

The sun burned directly overhead so that hardly any shadow was cast by the red rocks of the wasteland. Eighteen killers in black clung to a sloping ravine that sat at the base of a wide plateau. Barkus crept to the top of the rise, then waved impatiently to an Ugly crouched beside him. The man handed him a set of binoculars. Barkus took them, exhaled harshly with his eyes closed, then peeked over the top with his binoculars barely clearing the edge.

Wallach crouched on a shelf further down. “Almost rode right on top of ’em,” he muttered, shaking his head. The Ugly around him gripped the face of the ravine with white knuckles, as if they feared they would fall at any moment despite the ravine’s forgiving and gradual incline. Wallach turned to one and said, “Check the horses again and keep ’em quiet. Don’t let them get nervous.”

“
They good horses,” he said.

“
Just make sure,” said Wallach.

They waited. Barkus did not move.

Wallach saw one Ugly breathing as if running a marathon. This one had killed scores of men and women and never lost a minute of dreamless sleep. He was currently blinking uncontrollably, scratching his nose, tugging on an ear, and probably developing other nervous ticks.

“
Hey,” said Wallach. “Hey, they’re probably okay by us. They probably already heard us, since we nearly ran over them following that trail. Just be still and we’ll be fine.”

“
Demon sometimes draws out a kill,” said the man.

“
Our kind have been okay by them for a long time,” said Wallach. “Be still, we’re fine.”

Wallach saw fear spreading to the others. Finally he shook his head and made his way further up the rise. He nudged Barkus. Barkus handed over the binoculars, then nodded toward the plain ahead of them.

Wallach looked, said, “
God’s
finger
.”

“
They’re a sight, aren’t they?” said Barkus. “I counted fifteen, maybe more. It’s hard to tell. When they group together like that, it’s hard to tell where one demon ends and another begins.”

“
They’re gathered around that one,” said Wallach under his breath.

“
It’s dead,” said Barkus. “Feels strange to see one dead like that, doesn’t it? Like catching a priest naked.”

“
The trail the slaves left runs right through here,” said Wallach. “Left of the slope and right through that spot where the demons are gathering. What do you think, Barkus?”