"Mister Milvirde, are you awake yet?"
Siogari opened his eyes slowly. He was seated in a chair in Father Jeshel's office, across from the desk. The window was closed and the lamps were lit. Father Jeshel was leaning over him, his face inches from Siogari's own. He might almost have looked concerned, save for the incredibly pleased smirk on his face.
"Good. I was beginning to think you had hit your head when you collapsed, and I wouldn't want to summon a medic in here for you and explain all this." He straightened up. "Well, it seems I misjudged you, Mister Milvirde. Sneaking into my office -- through the window, no less -- and going through my papers -- such behavior for a seminary student!" He shook his head slowly, sounding disappointed. "To think, I always thought you were either too curled up in your own little universe to notice much about the people around you, or too hidebound to question a superior's motives. I was sure I would be giving this speech to Mister Kelen -- I even gave him that book to get his thoughts onto the subject. Such a disappointment."
Siogari blinked a few times, not sure if he was hearing Jeshel correctly. "You mean you were trying...you're-"
"A daemon, correct." Jeshel took a seat in his chair. "It's so gratifying to have an intelligent student -- it makes a teacher proud."
I have to get out of here. Siogari tried to stand, but it felt like something was pressing him into the chair as he moved. When he tried to move his arm, it felt pinned to the chair's armrest. He looked down. Charcoal markings had been inscribed onto his bare chest. He didn't recognize them, but they looked vaguely from the same time period as the book Jeshel had baited his trap with. They were faintly glowing. He tried to move his arm again and he saw a symbol below his right shoulder flare.
"I'm afraid I had to restrain you, Mister Milvirde," Jeshel said, grinning. " After all, if you are willing to break into a professor's office, I don't know what else you might be capable of. I have no wish to be murdered by a madman."
"I'm capable of? You're the daemon who lured me into your office, for nefarious purposes, I'm sure." Siogari would have jumped to his feet, were the spells not present. "As soon as I get out of here-"
"Mister Milvirde, you are sounding more and more like the hero in a children's play," Jeshel stood. He walked around his desk, and took a seat on it, across from Siogari. "Siogari, you know that daemons drain emotions, don't you? You did that much research on us, correct. What else do you know? Well, besides the Church dogma that we are servants of the Powers that do everything from burn books and eat babies to cheat at cards."
"Do you deny this?" Siogari glared at Jeshel, before nervously glancing at his chest. He hoped the sigils there were only to prevent him from standing up and running for the door, and didn't have some insidious effect. There are two methods of daemon feeding, he recalled. I don't have the fatigue from the passive method, but is it possible my anger is from the active method? Or is it just the fact that I am being treated like an unreasonable child by an abomination?
If he was being fed on, it wouldn't be long until the emotion faded, being replaced by the near catatonic state of the drained. They would find his body wherever Jeshel decided to leave it, unable to do even the most rudimentary things, like sit up to read or even feed himself. His family would be notified, of course, but there wouldn't be much they could do for him, besides wait to see if he healed.
He had to calm down. He started going through an old litany to the Gods, in the original Gesaban. Tarip pasib -- dasme lo karoso birad pa septales kwei nesta. Either this will calm me down and show me I am being childish about this, or there is something to worry about and I am best off praying to the Gods for some divine warding.
"Actually, I do deny this. I take pride in the fact I serve no one but my own interests," Jeshel crossed his arms, a hurt expression on his face. "And, as surprising as this may be to you, Mister Milvirde, I am not a felon."
"Well, how about the magic? Or I suppose it is just a delusion of mine that I cannot move from this chair?" Siogari tried to keep his voice level. Ausa balirs -- dasme los burusos birads pa lansales kwei no wedir lansales
Jeshel sighed. "If you are going to be unreasonable about this, we can just sit here. I am quite willing to wait all night for you to calm down." He looked at Siogari expectantly.
Siogari listened to the clock in the corner tick in the background. A one hundredbreath passed, then two. He looked around, noting every detail of the books on the shelves. The pause didn't feel like a calm... he could almost feel Jeshel's eyes lazily examining him, like a lynx that had caught a mouse and was deciding whether it was a plaything or dinner. After ten, with Jeshel still looking the part of the patient instructor, unmoving from the pose he took at the start of the waiting game, Siogari exploded. "What do you want from me, Jeshel! Just tell me and let it be done!"
"It's very rude to refer to your adviser without a title, Mister Milvirde." Jeshel was using the tone of voice he reserved for exceptionally stupid students. "At that rate, Siogari, you might as well start calling me Quindi and be done with it."
Siogari glared at him. "I reserve given names for friends and family, Father Jeshel," he nearly spat the title. "Will you tell me, then, Father, why you persist in holding me here?" After another expectant look, Siogari added a very frustrated, "Please?"
"Well, since you asked so very nicely," Jeshel stood, his hands clasped behind his back. He paced the width of his office, between his chair and the window. "Mister Milvirde, you've been here nearly five years. You came from a school run by the priests of Vetenri and Apstas, yes?" After Siogari gave a nod, feeling suddenly off-balance as to where this conversation was going, Jeshel continued, "that's a long time to be under such a strict code of behavior as the vows of a priest. You've never felt tempted to disobey, say, your oath of chastity?"
"Are you propositioning me?" Again the restraining spell flared as Siogari nearly fell out of his chair, incredulous at the sheer nerve of the daemon. "If you are, Jeshel, come out and say it so I can reject you. Even were you female and human, unlike you, I take my vows seriously."
"Actually, I didn't mean it quite like you were imagining." Jeshel had his back to Siogari as he stared out the window. "The late teens and early twenties... those are the times when the drive to procreate beats strongly in humans. I suppose it is to be expected -- it is both a strange new feeling for the mind and the time when your bodies are the most fertile. And yet, you haven't even had an idle thought about it cross your mind when a priestess passes you in the halls."
"The Gods take care of their own," Siogari answered quickly. But, that was wrong, and he knew it.
"But the vows are meant to show your devotion to the idea you are not bound to the baser instincts of procreation. That the only way to emulate the spirits and Gods is to ignore the desires of the flesh." Jeshel turned back to face Siogari. "You know the Gods would never give you what you haven't earned, Mister Milvirde. If you are unable to keep your word to not go gallivanting about, and coupling with any thing with the right parts, you aren't any better than a beats of the field, am I right?"
Siogari found himself nodding, in spite of his feelings towards the daemon that had been his mentor. "So, it isn't the work of the Gods. And the Powers would be asking for some sort of price for the protection. Did it occur to you that the reason I feel nothing is because I have so internalized my vows I don't even think about breaking them?"
"It did," Jeshel nodded. "But, I would like to offer you an alterative theory, Mister Milvirde, if I may. One you are not familiar with."
"Go on. I'm listening," Siogari said. He would have crossed his arms, but for the spell.
"You don't know much about us, you admitted this. We daemons are specialists when it comes to emotions -- my sort, at least are. We only draw of limited ranges of emotions. Most daemons around here consume lust."
"Seems like you would have slim pickings around those bound by priestly vows," Siogari retorted on reflex. Jeshel just kept grinning. Siogari paused. He recognized that grin as a challenge. Jeshel had just given him the key to the puzzle, and was only waiting for him to put the pieces together. "So, if daemons are draining single emotions, than the victims wouldn't seem run-down as their energy and emotion levels will otherwise be fine. They'll probably just seem without that particular emotion. Assuming they aren't drained into catatonia, of course. So if you feed of off lust..." Siogari's eyes widened as he reached the logical conclusion of his chain of reasoning, "that means that most of us aren't meeting any challenge to our vows because we aren't capable of feeling that desire!"
"Brilliant again, Mister Milvirde," Jeshel's grin changed to a rather self-satisfied one. "Now, if you don't mind me asking, what do you intend to do about it? I will warn you, you may cast suspicions on yourself -- few would want to work with a man trained under a daemon."
"I will work past that. Best that the truth be known."
"The truth, Mister Milvirde? The truth is that it is your word against mine. I have behaved above reproach since assuming my position, and, I assure you, I am well able to disarm the accusations of a student."
"This isn't fair! You come in here and tell me that I've been under daemon control since I was a boy? You've made a mockery of my vows!" He was losing any pretense of a cool tone, now. His hands were trying to bunch into fists, and he was leaning forward. How dare you, Jeshel! How dare you and your ilk manipulate me for a quick meal! How dare you take away the choice I made when I took those vows!
"Me?" Jeshel chuckled, and Siogari wanted to throw something at him, if would only shut him up. "You could say my kind kept you from making a mockery of your own vows. I would bet you that you wouldn't last a year with a full libido."
"I could so!" Siogari nearly yelled the words. "I made those vows, and I will keep them, come death or darkness."
"I don't think you can," Jeshel leaned in towards Siogari. Siogari could feel his breath. "In fact... how would you like a chance to tell me out to our superiors? I might be wrong about the reaction -- you could even get a reputation for being rather clever for spotting me."
Siogari almost agreed, without thinking. But, he remembered another thing everyone knew about daemons. "What's the catch?"
"Perceptive student. Perhaps too much so, sometimes -- in this case, I suppose, it remains to be seen," Jeshel commented idly. He stood up, moving behind his desk again. "I'm going to give you a contract, Siogari. Should you make it one full year with all of your emotions and all of your vows intact, I won't stop you from reporting me. I'll even do a harmless demonstration to convince the administration. Who knows, I might even come up with some clever means of showing them I didn't taint you by my presence." He opened a desk drawer, removing parchment and a pen. He dipped the pen in his inkwell, and began to write. "If you lose, of course, you will have to perform a service for me."
"I don't deal with daemons," Siogari said coldly.
"And I don't let people know I am a daemon without having them under my control," Jeshel said. "You may be clever, Siogari, but you still lack wisdom. I know you have no intention of keeping silent, unless I bind you to this contract. So, I will have to take other steps. Bringing about an accident that truly looks accidental would be far too difficult on such a short notice, It's the wrong season of stress-induced suicide and you are the wrong personality type for it -- too many people would have never seen it coming, and questions might be asked. How does insanity sound?"
He said it lightheartedly, as if he was suggesting a restaurant for lunch. Siogari felt a hand on his heart, squeezing it. He was suddenly glad that the restraining spells would keep any shudder he made from showing. Apstas gudo -- dasme los niadelos birads pa mirale lo birad del munto. Vetenri sabio -- dasme lo mente birad pa prentir amu purogimos.
"You don't think you'll lose, so you?"
"Of course not!" But, Jeshel wouldn't make the offer if he didn't think he would win -- daemon or not, he was a very intelligent and canny individual.
"Then, really, I don't see why you are hesitating so. Your best choice is to just agree and sign. Or are you worried about the consequences should you lose? If it makes you feel better, the service I'm asking you to do isn't illegal. You might even enjoy it."
"What will you be asking me to do, anyway?" Better to talk about this than his sanity, or impending lack thereof. No chance of running -- the bonds were as tight as ever. A scant hour ago, and I wanted to be a hero. Now I would settle for leaving her with wits intact.
"I need to borrow your body to father a child."
That was not what Siogari had been expecting at all. His mouth hung open. "What? This is a dream, isn't it?" He paused, trying to regain his composure. "Can I ask why you needed me to get involved, since I assume that this was your purpose for attempting to lure someone into confronting you? Why can't you father your own accursed child?"
"Alas, I made sure my body was sterilized at maturity -- you may believe that your keen human intellect can triumph over mere animal instinct, but some of use are more pragmatic than that. A clear head is far more valuable than a few moments of pleasure and the ability to father bastard children." He set his pen down. Siogari could see the parchment had been filled with writing in his neat hand. "Any offspring I have -- of me, not this body, before you get confused, Mister Milvirde -- will need a human body. One that does not come with its own soul. That means, we need an unborn child, preferably as close to conception as possible. Which means I need a human male and female of childbearing age. You are healthy, reasonably attractive, intelligent, if not very wise, and in good physical shape, if your climb is any indication." He clapped his hands together. "Aren't you lucky? But, of course, you won't have to bother with this, since you are so sure you will win. Feel free to deliberate on this, though I ask that you not take all night -- I have no intention of letting you leave until you've decided."
Siogari bent his head in contemplation. Jeshel wouldn't make the offer unless he thought he would win -- but, he had counted on Serio being the one in the chair and not me. Who knew what he had planned to bind Serio, but with luck, he's improvising. Which means, he could be less certain of his victory than he thinks. But... still... he told me, instead of convincing me this was all based on a mistranslation due to the stress of my thesis. He has to be near certain that I will accept and lose.
But, he couldn't accept, could he? Dealing with daemons was against teachings -- their power was like fae gold, rich and incredible under the moonlight, but ultimately insubstantial, not like that earned by hard work. In addition, it was stupid.
But, he couldn't turn it down. He could have lived with Jeshel making him forget the night had never happened. Supposedly that was well within a daemon's power, to addle the memory. But, to lose his mind with his memory...
He had visited the sanatorium in the capital as a first year seminary student, trying to decide which god to devote himself to. The priests of Tarip in charge would only allow the students into the less serious wards, telling them that even a simple thing like a couple of students could upset some of the more dangerous patients. But, any one mad enough to be unable to be cared for at home, was a sight. For all they knew about medicine, the priests could do little but devise ways to keep the patients from hurting themselves or others. They had a thousand different words for madness, those priests, and they couldn't do a whit about most of them, besides keep them quiet and continue working. There was vague talk of curing this or that infliction, but very few of the methods actually worked, and some of them well made things worse. He was told that the average brother or sister spent less than a year working here, before they asked to be moved to a hospital or ministry position. Those few that stayed, grew old and weary before their time, their faces lined with the visions of patients that remained locked inside their own minds.
The place itself seemed to have that weariness burned into the walls. The builder had tried to create a light and airy place, but the windows were kept closed and covered with a screen, to prevent breaking, and the white walls weren't so much light as stark and bare of the simplest ornamentation. The weight of the despair of the place bore down on Siogari, and he had to cut his visit short, begging a bit of nausea at the smell of the cleaning materials. Regardless of if I was mad when I got there, I would become mad from staying there. None of the other students had seemed to feel it -- they had been filled with the youthful enthusiasm that they need only finish their education, and the puzzles of the mind would enfold like a flower for them, allowing them to empty the halls of the place.
Better death or dishonor, than the loss of my mind. Jeshel, you uneducated son of a monkey, how dare you put me through this? "I don't think I have a choice, do I?" He wasn't going to give Jeshel the satisfaction of seeing his face -- he kept his head down. "I agree."
"Glad you've decided to be reasonable, Mister Milvirde. This makes things far easier for the both of us." Jeshel had come out from behind his desk, his hands folded behind his back again.
"Well, then, you can at least unbind my hands so that I can sign-" Siogari was interrupted by Jeshel bringing his hand, bearing a knife, forward to slash across Siogari's chest. Sparks like fireflies seemed to hang after the blade. And it burned like it had been dipped in seawater or ammonia. Siogari bit his lip, not wanting to cry out. "What did you do?" he said, after a moment. The wound seemed shallow enough -- his ribs weren't even bruised. That wasn't that reassuring, though. He intends to kill me, despite my word. But that doesn't make sense!
"You wanted to be free of daemon emotion draining. Now you are. In order to put the shield on you, in a way that was both permanent and tied to your energy reserves, I needed to give you a scar or tattoo -- some mark that couldn't be washed away. I thought it wise to place it in a place where few would see. Jeshel took a hold of Siogari's right hand, pressing the thumb against the bloody blade, then on the bottom of the parchment. Wiping off the knife with a rag, he cut his own finger, adding a second thumbprint. "So, it is done. I'll help you to your dormitory, Mister Milvirde. And, undo the binding spells of course." He paused briefly. "Speak of this to no one."
Lying awake in bed that night, in a state between sleep and wakefulness, Siogari traced the line of the soon-to-be scar across his chest, through his nightclothing and the bandages Jeshel had brought from the infirmary. He still wondered if that had really happened to him, but the pain in his chest beneath his finger was a rather strong reminder. He had a feeling that something horrible had just begun.