Demon Singer II (13 page)

        “I thought you didn't like Company Thirteen,” she snapped as he fell into step beside her. “Where is this secret weapon you were going to get?”

        “The weapon is downstairs waiting for you in the parking garage. And I don't like Company Thirteen. Connor Lot is a menace to everyone he encounters. That's exactly why I sent him.” Varia punched the down button as they reached the elevators. “He will help occupy the Milleytes Lux.”

        “Help?”

        “The zombie boss, Gar Lich is harassing the city looking for a mercenary who stole a healthy chunk of his product. Plus the dwarves are on the brink of revolt.”

        “Those idiot midgets built Markhato, and have served its humans for centuries. Why would they revolt?”

        “While we were fighting our way into their mountain to get Blink to the entrance to the Verge during the attack on Markhato, I dressed my men as Milleytes Lux, and we killed some of them.” They reached the parking garage and Varia made a sweeping gesture, inviting Lisian to precede him out of the elevator. “In this particular instance ‘some’ means ‘a lot including women and children’. I've given Company Thirteen our Milleytes Lux uniforms with instructions to kill anything under five feet tall.”

        Lisian couldn't help but admire her pet's sociopathic leanings. He was shaping up to be a much better investment than Melody. He led her through the garage, continuing his report.

        “With the mess Company Thirteen makes and the Milleytes Lux dealing with dwarves and zombies, we'll be able to take an entire contingent through the Markhato entrance to the Verge and no one will even notice, let alone stand in the way.”

        Varia stopped in front of a car in which sat a pretty young woman wearing a ball cap and a bored expression.

        "Who's this?" Lisian demanded, annoyance in her tone.

        Varia beckoned for the girl to come to them.

        "This, Mistress, is the weapon we will use to put an end to your master.” The girl approached. Varia threw an arm around her and smiled at Lisian. “Allow me to introduce, Jessica Fairfield."

        The demoness' eyes narrowed.

        "I don't care for jokes, Varia, perhaps you'd like to try again," her voice hinted at painful death.

        "Nor would I waste your time with jokes, beautiful Lisian." Varia answered. Lisian followed his gaze to where she was unconsciously twisting his ring. She stopped.  "This girl is so much more than she appears.  Let us show you." Varia Tur moved around Lisian until she stood between him and the girl. "Think of something that won't hurt you but would decimate a human, then attack her with it."

        Lisian grinned. Crushing her pet's little skank should serve to remind him of who owned whom.

        Summoning her strength from the immense power of the Gates of Hell, Lisian unleashed a concentrated fireball at the girl.  The flame was white hot and its heat caused nearby car windows to shatter and tires to pop.

        The demoness' eyes widened in shock as she felt the fire consuming her. Somehow, her attack was turned on her, while the girl stood there watching with bored disinterest.  Swiftly, Lisian smoked out and reformed a few feet away. The fire sprinklers were raining down and Varia had a fire extinguisher in hand, putting out fires.

        Her fury at Varia's disrespectful trick was tempered by how impressed she was at the girls utter lack of damage.

        "What is she?"

        "I'm a girl, what are you? Stupid?" Jessica answered with a sour expression holding the magazine she was reading over her head.

        "Mind your tongue, girl, lest I remove it." Lisian snarled.

        "She's a product," Varia cut in hurriedly before Jessica could reply. "The result of years of planning, Bonen Tansyon's influence, a vampire named Drake, a murdered Knocker and numerous bad choices. The point is, she's here, and she cannot be harmed... by anything."

        "And this helps us how?" The demoness asked.

        “The primary reason no hellion has succeeded in overthrowing Trytohn and seizing control of hell is because none of you can touch him, let alone hurt him, right?”

        “Of course,” Lisian replied in annoyance. “I'm the one who told you that.”

        Varia pointed to Jessica.

        "
She
can.” he said smugly. “She can shove Trytohn into the pit."

*   *   *   *   *

        Lyric wandered about the enormous ship, admiring the beauty of it.  He ran his hand along the smooth railing, trying to understand what he was experiencing.  Warm ice, he'd never heard of such a thing.  It certainly looked like ice, complete with bubbles and the white mist that you find in an ice cube tray. The surface was certainly hard and slippery like ice, but pleasantly warm, like wood absorbing the rays of the sun.  He noted there were fish frozen into the gunwale as well as a surprised looking seagull.

        The Blue Men of the Minch were unfriendly, but there was no denying their skill on the water. Lyric was fascinated by their ability to work together as a single unit.  Every man knew his part and performed it flawlessly. Watching them create this magnificent ship out of ice was one of the most incredible feats of engineering and art he had ever witnessed. Watching them sail was more like watching cirque du soleil. The teamwork and easy camaraderie they exhibited caused a twinge of longing inside the Singer.

        Soul Singers were not allowed to sing together. They were taught that this was because the individual focus and exertion of will required to sing into the Score. Singing together could cause distractions that would result in catastrophe. The Soul Singer's craft was unique and special and not to be trifled with. Not for the first time, Lyric questioned the wisdom behind that.

        In the Guild, the legend of the two brothers was considered a cautionary tale of what would happen if Singers sang together. Even realizing that the legend was in fact the story of Ervin and his brother, Lyric questioned the wisdom of forbidding Singers to join together. Watching what the Blue Men could accomplish working in concert, he couldn't help but wonder what might be possible if Singers sang together.

        "There's a man deep in thought," said a voice behind him. Lyric turned to see Calder Glas approaching.

        "Just admiring your ship, captain."

        "The ship?" Glas looked around the Gaoithe Mhín as though seeing it for the first time. "The ship's just some water joined together, lad. The magic is in her crew. In general, we prefer the water, it's faster, more comfortable. But as far as ships go, the Gaoithe Mhín is likely the finest on the sea. She's seen us through a lot. If I have to be stuck on a boat adrift on the sea, no doubt about it lad, this is the boat for me."

        Lyric smiled in response, then realized what Glas had just said.

        "Captain, we just watched you build this thing. What do you mean she's seen you through a lot?"

        "As I said, the magic is in her crew. We've built this ship a hundred times or more, but she is always the same. When we're done with her, we'll release the magic and she'll return to the sea, waiting to be built again.

        Glas saw the seagull Lyric had noted and placed his hand on the gunwale.  The ice melted and the bird flopped out and immediately flew away, screaming her indignation.  Glas ran his hand back up the gunwale and the ice reformed.

        "Why do you answer to Ervin's song?"

        "Aaah, young Ervin. He's a fine lad for a land walker, though I never could make a sailor out of him." Glas smiled sadly. "The world lost a great treasure and the finest human I know when it lost Ervin.

        "In answer to your question, I was tasked by Calypso herself to escort Ervin on a voyage into the middle sea. He had some crazy singer mumbo-jumbo to do. While there, we were set upon by a fathom of mermaids. They began building their maelstrom, their favorite weapon for bringing down ships. They'd bring us into the water and overwhelm us, one by one. I wasn't sure my crew would make it, let alone young Ervin. Imagine my surprise when that pip squeak opened his mouth and sang an achingly beautiful melody. It was related to the sea shanties he'd heard us use on the ship. But he did something to it. The mermaids stopped their swimming. My blue men stopped their shouting, and the Gaoithe Mhín rose from the water to sail the currents of the sky.

        "What a day that was… the day Ervin sang. He saved my entire crew. It was then I decided that I would come if he called." Glas noticed Lyric looking at him. The captain grinned at Lyric's confusion. "You wonder how I can appreciate beauty or understand loyalty because I'm a Blue Man and we don't feel. But most important truths have deep roots, apparent contradictions and layers of meaning. The Blue Men of the Minch are indeed heartless lad, but that just means we don't feel - and thus aren't governed by - something as transient as emotion. We still know the difference between right and wrong, though. That's why we greet one another like this," Glas placed his hand on Lyric's chest, just left of center over his heart. "To remind each other of the choice we made to be heartless and why."

        The captain strode away, leaving Lyric to mull over what Glas had just taught him.

*   *   *   *   *

        
Dean Ishoeing woke abruptly from a fitful sleep to the sound of his mailbox opening and closing. Wondering who would be delivering mail at two a.m. he slipped on his extra comfy slippers and went to investigate.

        He and his wife had moved to Markhato less than a year ago. They were standard human stock for the City of Light. Dean possessed the second sight, but had no magic otherwise.

        His wife had a modestly successful fruit stand that boasted fresh fruit all year long, regardless of season. Dean had spent years unsuccessfully trying to convince her to take her green thumb to the four kings and offer to use her gift to aid area farmers. She insisted they had enough money and Markhato didn't need her small magic. It had been a huge win for him just to get her to move here.

        Reaching the mailbox, Dean retrieved a single plain envelope. His heart leapt with hopeful anticipation. His position at the southern Markhato post office had been eliminated after the war and he was currently laid off. In fact, every position was eliminated and the whole post office shut down. The dwarf responsible for human and nonhuman resources in Markhato's postal system was called something weird, one of those strange dwarf names, Loogie Hadafit or Leggy Halfwit or something. Anyway, Licknee Hatchet had sent the notice of the shut down in an identical envelope, promising it was temporary.

        Dean ripped the envelope open and scanned the contents of the terse letter inside:

        
Dear Valued Team Member

        The Southern branch of Markhato's Postal Service is reopening in the morning. Everyone wishing to keep their job should be there at 4 a.m. and expect a long day. Upon arriving, gather in the main entrance to await further instruction.

        With All the Cordiality I Can Muster,

        Ligny Hefit

        Director of Human and Nonhuman Resources

        Dean Ishoeing carefully controlled his jubilation in an effort to avoid waking his wife. Looking at the clock he saw it was after two in the morning. He needed to shower and hustle to the post office.

*   *   *   *   *

        The Singer listened to the sounds of the ship, the waves, the wind.  He sank into the rhythms of the creaks and pitch of the groans of the ice vessel. Grabbing the answering call of the crew as they shouted back and forth to one another he began to hum. Holding out his hand, palm up he focused carefully on his desire.

        It was different. He'd become so accustomed to drawing on Acheron's vast power that even with Cadence's energy feeding into him it took more effort than he expected.

        
I've made you soft.
Acheron's thoughts floated across the tie.
That's a first for me.

        Ignoring the demoness, Lyric poured his song into the task at hand. It was a simple construction tune. He'd learned it early in his seventh measure. The challenge of directing the building of the light using water and salt was even harder than he expected.

        When a Soul Singer creates, the Score of Creation does all the mental heavy lifting.  Every principle of physics and constructions and chemistry and every other discipline is in the Score. The Singer simply taps into it and essentially imagines the finished product.  The more a singer knows, the more they can direct the details of the building.  Otherwise, it's completely up to the Score.

        Lyric was far out of his depth. He knew some things. He knew there needed to be a light, the brighter the better, a power source and something to hold. He focused on these things and let the Score fill in the blanks.

        Ocean spray began to be drawn to his hand. It condensed and swirled and settled and grew and within a minute Lyric was holding...

        a potato.

        The four of them looked at it. Acheron laughed.

        "No points for aesthetics, Lover." The demoness teased.