Summoning the Incubus Ch. 09

Maya and I slipped unseen into the chamber of the rescued. I closed the door quickly and quietly behind us.

The women still all lay as I had arranged them, staring blankly from the chains of their captivity. It was a deeply painful and sorry sight. I turned to Maya.

"So as you can see, we need to come up with a way to get these women to safety. And some kind of magic to wake them, I think perhaps we ought to get Laz, but I'm not really sure where he is - " I said hurriedly.

"I... I don't... understand," said Maya, her expression tense and stern, "Who do these women belong to, Greta?"

"Well to themselves," I said, pointedly dodging her implied question.

"I'm very serious. How have these women come to be in your room -- who do they belong to?"

"They belong to themselves!" I snapped.

"Urgh. I am not entertaining a semantic discussion with you now, you silly child. Have you removed these women from an incubus' room?"

"Yes," I said softly.

"Well then we need to go about putting them back." Maya was matter of fact in her assessment of the correct course of action.

"Putting them back? Are you out of your mind? Look at the state they are in, you are asking me to return burn victims to their house fire!"

"I am not asking you. I am telling you. This is none of our business."

"None of our business? Are we not women also?" I was appalled.

"What has that to do with it? Have you any idea of the punishments you will bring upon yourself committing a theft such as this? Imprisonment for years if you've done this to a solider, decades if you've done this to a centurion."

The truth of the matter must have been plain upon my face, for Maya's next words were:

"Heavens below, not the King?"

I nodded sombrely.

Maya's face contorted in vicious rage. I'd never seen such a emotion upon her, I was shaken to fright.

"What did I tell you the very first day that you arrived here? There is so much freedom offered to us and we need do so little to earn it. 'Don't commit treason' is a very bloody easy rule to follow Greta - and you have betrayed us."

The words were intended to cut me to ribbons. To have me sob and apologise and repair my 'mistake'. But they did not chime in my heart. I was not a traitor to any cause I valued.

"We wear chains! We're guarded day and night!" I crowed, "This isn't freedom Maya, if just looks like it from a distance. And these women have suffered one-thousand-thousand times the worse than us and we owe them our help. It is our duty as sisters, as human people. To abandon them is the only betrayal."

"Insolence and ingratitude," Maya snorted. Our eyes met. The woman who had once been my dearest friend and companion stared at me with dismay and disdain.

She could not understand that I would defy the royal family after their care and protection of me. She had forgotten that she had once rebelled against the expectations of her family -- that no love no matter how pure can justify an unquestioning obedience. She had forgotten.

Maya fled into the corridors and called at the top of her lungs for the guards to come arrest the treacherous witch.

And they did.

***

The dungeons were little used at this time of peace and prosperity. They were frightfully dusty and peculiar in design. The walls were deepest Auzurian blue, so that any waking prisoner might know the helplessness of their situation by the reputation of their captors. Bolted into these walls were every manner of golden fixture as you might find in horse stables and blacksmiths' workshops. Rings, nails, hooks, hoops and handcuffs.

Rather than a true window, light and air entered the space through a long narrow hole -- perhaps tall enough to fit a human arm through -- that stretched the length of the room at a height just below that of the ceiling. It meant that a long thin stripe of light was cast upon the blue veined marble floor. Nearer the wall with the almost-a-window, were an array of wooden contraptions that I did not like to speculate upon the use of.

In spite of my righteousness, I did not resist my arrest. I was still somewhat certain that once Laz was informed of the situation, he would bring his level-headed diplomacy to the matter, and flatter the King into turning a blind eye to my 'crimes' while also helping me to magic the trapped women far away from his clutches. The consequences of this could be finessed later.

(My lack of protest might also have been because I was not confident that I could successfully mount a physical or magical challenge to a dozen members of the Azurian Royal Guard.)

And so I found myself bound up in gold chains from ankle to bust. My wrists were encased in heavy cuffs that finished at my elbows and locked my forearms together behind my back. I felt ridiculous and squirmed around uselessly on the floor like a blindworm.

The chains were tight and heavy and pulsed with vindictive binding magic. Even when I didn't struggle in my bondage, I felt the metal leeching my energy slowly from me, sapping at my resolve. No matter how I tried to contort myself, or what spells I hissed, the chain held fast.

"Peerless Azurian craftsmanship," I muttered darkly.

Then I simply laid still, spiritually defeated as I thought upon Maya's straight forward rejection of my principles. How could we have so utterly failed to know one another? My dear friend so quickly an enemy.

***

"You have a visitor," the guard's announcement interrupted my self-pity. I turned my face toward the door that was already swinging shut to trap the arrival with me. It was Nicklas.

"Greta! I cannot stay long, I'm here without the Queen's permission, she thinks me to be taking exercise with Maya in the courtyard garden. But I came as soon as I could."

Dear, sweet Nicklas. So tender in his concern, so earnest in his intentions. I felt nothing but contempt and resentment toward him. Where was Laz? Why had this silly village boy troubled himself to lie to a succubus and risk a beating to see me -- and yet my celestial paramour, my majestic Prince, my deepest beloved -- was nowhere to be seen? I could not muster the patience to enact kindness such was my irritation.

"I see," I said flatly, barely bothering to cast my eyes in his direction, let alone lift my cheek from the cold of the flags. Nicklas crossed the floor to sit beside me.

"Pray do not feel defeated. I have a plan to free you," he whispered. I rolled my eyes, dreading more so the embarrassment of whatever stupidity might be described than the actual dangers of any practical plan. With difficulty, I squirmed into a seated position.

"Well, you'd best tell me then," I sighed.

"I dare not discuss it, lest we be overheard." He put his mouth close to my ear, "Just be ready to run at first moonlight, keep something silver with you if you can, " he touched the silver chain that was wrapped many times about his wrist as he spoke, "That might not be possible, but try. Then keep whatever you find with you just in case."

Nicklas put his soft, square-fingered hand on my cheek and looked seriously at me. His eyes held water. And though he did not voice the words, I felt a pulse in him, that same devotion I'd sensed before. That he would willingly die for me. For though he did not voice the words, I worried that his plan meant that he might plan to. And as I felt that deeply held conviction of his sweep through me... well, I felt ashamed that I could not love him better.

"Do not do a thing that puts you in danger Nick, not a thing. Do you hear me?" I hissed.

And he smiled rather sadly yet warmly at me.

"That's not a sermon you can give without being a hypocrite, is it now?"

And he hugged me to his body. So that I felt his heart beat in his chest, and his breath expand in his lungs, and the fleeting electricity of his nerves. He was fragile as a new-born faun. And I was comforted in spite myself. I closed my eyes and let my forehead loll on his shoulder.

For a brief time, we were quiet and grateful for each other.

"Hypocrites are the only kind of people who make sermons," I said.

He chuckled. Squeezed me more tightly, then placed a swift kiss upon the parting of my tresses before releasing me from the embrace. Nicklas turned to leave just as the door swung back open to demand the end of our visitation.

"I don't deserve how good you're being to me," I said. But only after enough moments had elapsed that I was certain he wouldn't hear it.

***

Some greater, but unknown, amount of time passed. The sky changed little, but my boredom and chaffed body insisted that it had been a great many hours.

At first, I had passed the time with wild speculation; what plan of action could Nicklas -- a puny mortal of no particular expertise or abilities -- possibly have mapped? Perhaps this was unfair. He had some rudimentary magical knowledge and perhaps even skill; after all he had summoned a succubus. And unlike myself, trapped through carelessness, he had always intended the occurrence of his kidnap, so perhaps he was also more cunning than I knew.

However, as I turned the pages of my book learning in my mind's eye, there was no clue or inspiration that I could glean. And as the dark magic in the weight of the gold chains ebbed at me, I lost still more of my mental strength.

It was in this state of dejection and depletion that my next visitor found me.

"Well witch, still feeling so cocky about the stability of your situation?" Queen Lusaka's satisfaction with the turn of events rippled through her voice. It is difficult to imagine how any being could sound smugger.

I pried open my own eyelids to confirm her presence, but gave no reply. I was too much drained for rapport either satirical or combative.

This seemed to disenchant the Queen.

"How disappointing, not a flicker of a flame there at all." And she nudged me with her sandal-clad toe, quite as if I was an old dog that she wished to confirm was just sleeping and not dead.

"There's an ember," I sighed.

"There's a ash heap," Lusaka corrected, "Now listen well witch, for I tell you what I have to say next not out of love for you, but of loyalty for one of my oldest friends. Nothing, and I repeat, nothing that you say at your trial tomorrow can implicate Laz in any way."

"I'm to have a trial?" I gasped.

"Yes you're to have a trial, what sort of a backwards barbaric land do you think this is?"

"It seems I grew up in a wilder land than I knew," I whispered. Then I wondered upon her strange insistence. "There's really no need to be worried that Laz would be implicated in events in any case. He knew not a thing about my intentions or actions at any point."

"Even to say that would be to say too much. Unless you are asked a direct question about him, you will not bring Lazuren's name into any of your excuses. Do I make myself plain, Witch? His reputation must not be tarnished, his loyalty to the King must not be in doubt."

"I understand," I groaned; although in truth, I had not given much consideration to the idea that Lazuren may be implicated in my botched liberation. I thought of him as unimpeachable, untouchable, powerful. What consequences could he face for my supposed crimes?

The Queen dropped low to bring her over-beautiful face nearer mine, feet planted on the floor, knees bent, a taloned hand on each knee. She scrutinised me for a time, but I could not say what she looked for, only that she found me deeply lacking. She clutched my face between her thumb and finger, and squeezed at my cheeks until my lips distorted.

"See that you do," she said, and left promptly thereafter.

***

Time in the prison continued to ache by. My head swam with competing thoughts that would not settle into useful plans. I longed for Lazuren to visit. To have his comfort and counsel. And I was angry that he did not visit, in this, my hour of need. I tried to remind myself that he ought not do such a thing. As Lusaka had said, it was best it was thought that he had nothing to do with my rash actions.

Still, I ached.

Night descended upon my little strip of sky. One by one, stars took their positions of vigil over me. Now more than ever, I cursed my separation from these foreign stars. Their celestial messages were simply unknowable to the limits of my natural gifts and unschooled mind. The two moons of Azure were blueish and less bright than the moon I'd known at home. Each one was a fat waxing gibbous, but the promise of that omen felt empty.

I was exhausted in mind and body, but could not sleep. My head buzzed with trial speeches, passionate pleas on behalf of women everywhere that the bones of our humanity be recognised! ...But then in turn, I laboured on serious careful lies that might cast me for an innocent, framed and hapless. And back again to schemes for escape, what spell might slip between these chains? What useful magic could I still utter?

I waited sleeplessly for Lazuren and Nicklas all night, but neither came to me. At daybreak, the guards appeared to escort me to the courtroom. I went in silence, still undecided on the plan for my conduct.

***

It becomes necessary at this juncture to tell you a little of the traditions and mechanisms of an Azurian law court. If you are interested in the finer points of such things I can recommend you a number of very informative tomes; but since I experienced these happenings as a layperson, I shall impart this portion of my tale in these terms.

An Azurian courtroom is round in arrangement. At the centre, is 'the devil'; who we might call 'the accused' in our own circumstances. 'The devil' is held in a gold cage -- much alike the ones I sabotaged as part of my rescue attempt -- but in this case, it hangs from the ceiling on a long chain, meaning that the little prison is constantly turning about this way and that, spinning like a water bucket on a rope.

Seated in a circle around the 'the devil', are all of the other involved parties: the judge, the jury, the witnesses, the 'victim's advocate' and the 'devil's advocate'. It is unclear from the arrangement of the seating precisely who is who, and so the role of any given being is only made clear to the uninitiated when they begin speaking. Some familiar faces were present of course: Laz, Maya, Nicklas and the King. Unsurprisingly, none of the women I had attempted to rescue were in attendance. They were not regarded as victims either of my kidnap or of the King's.

My advocate, a wiry, bookish incubus by the name of Zuran Lyre, held a certain academic respectability, with his long black hair in a tight ponytail and a crescent moon reading glass occasionally lifted to his left eye. He wore white linen robes that exposed a square of his bare, unblemished chest, and he had coloured his lips black with a cosmetic dye, making his sharp white teeth shimmer dangerously behind his lips. Lyre was a very learned incubus - but his values were little shared within the castle. Even Laz would find ignorance of the battlefield deplorable in an incubus no matter how schooled in other knowledge he may be.

His counterpart, the victim's advocate, was an altogether more compelling character. Zarharah Allure was an adorable, big-eyed, succubus with a heart-shaped face and gold freckles shimmering on her forget-me-not blue skin. She had an effusive manner, seemed endlessly eager to please and was - in my estimation - artificially naïve in mask of her cunning.

The jury seemed all to be guards from the Azurian ranks. Incubi who I saw everyday, yet whose names and characters I did not at all know. They chatted casually amongst themselves, untroubled by the life or death stakes of my situation.

The judge rang a golden bell and the room fell silent. The trial had begun.

Zarharah Allure was first to call upon The King as a witness.

"Sire," she began, lips pouted and eyebrows knitted in dramatic concern, "Could you please start by telling us precisely what items were stolen from you? Please do take your time, it's obviously a very distressing situation."

"Thank you," said the King, with his own measure of performed fragility, "It is indeed very distressing to have had my personal chambers violated, much of my gold broken or taken, and all seven of my dear guest women stolen from me."

"All seven?" came Zarharah's theatrical gasp.

"Indeed! All the more so distressing for this to have been done by a guest in our own house, the shock of it is simply sickening,"

"Sire, I simply can't imagine. Perhaps you could illuminate our assembly on who within this house you believe to be the perpetrator of this disgusting crime?"

"Of course, my dear," said the King with the kind of admirable graveness generally reserved for use by loved ones on deathbeds, "I shall persevere to tell of it. It is my well founded suspicion that the devil who committed this crime was my own son's guest woman Greta."

Zarharah gasped again, although the cause for surprise was rather unclear given that I was literally the accused on trial.

"But Sire, however could a mere guest woman manage such a feat? To bypass the royal guard, to break seven locks?" She spoke in an increasingly babyish tone, blinking stupidly as she set up her plan.

"Ah, well you see, much to my shame, the Prince's guest woman is a witch."

Several present turned to face Lazuren -- myself included -- in search of a reaction. We were disappointed however, for his face was as still and inscrutable as marble. A few whispered.

I looked at my feet. It was suddenly very obvious in just how very many ways Laz was protecting me from the norms of his world. I was not supposed to be free to wander the castle and make my own plans, nor be kept to just himself like a wife, nor to hold my own magic and live as a witch. I was supposed to have been tricked, dragged powerless to the desert then kept in box or traded away like a toy.

No wonder the Queen had been worried about my lover's reputation.

When the murmurs had dissipated, the victim's advocate continued her pantomime.

"A witch!?"

"Indeed. Now, we all have our preferences... our proclivities. I am not a one to judge. I took to understand that my eldest was simply... experimenting. Making the most of his youth to play with a little fire. But of course, eventually with fire... you get burned. Every babe has had the Helgian Prophecies read to them. We all know that the only acceptable place for a witch is at the bottom of a pond."

Zarharah nodded sympathetically.

"A witch certainly could commit a crime such as this. We all know that they are deceitful by nature and powerful enough in magic to enter and leave a room unseen," she said, her eyes appealing the jury as she spoke. A few nodded their agreement with the plausibility. She continued: "And so we know that the devil Greta had means of magic, and in being allowed to freely roam the palace had no lack of opportunity. So what of motive? Why would a guest woman granted such an usual level of welcome seek to betray her host family?"

Here I shook with anger. That any motive but my honest wish for the wellbeing of my fellow women should be speculated upon enraged me. But bound in gold chains and gold shackles, and caged in gold bars behind gold locks, no magic could rise to burnish my skin to strike my foes. I drew heavy breaths between gritted teeth and held my protest behind my tongue.

"Well, this is a rather vulgar thing to say, and I wish not to disturb the sensibilities of the fine group assembled here. But perhaps it is relevant to state that the devil Greta is a known adulteress and pansexual."

Another melodramatic wave of gasps rippled through the courtroom.

"Sire, might I ask how this is known?"

"I have it on the word of the Queen of Heliotrope, who herself received this information from her pet. But I'm sure that you understand what such a deviant creature might want with seven women." The King looked up at me, spinning uselessly in the suspended cage, and grinned at me with his whole mouth of teeth.