Crown of Shadows - C. S. Friedman [74]
“Where is he?”
For a long time Karril was silent. Damien waited him out, though his hands were shaking from impatience. At last the demon said, in a voice that was little more than a whisper, “Where Gerald Tarrant has gone, no living man can follow.”
Damien breathed in sharply. “Where?”
“To be judged.” As the demon turned back to him, Damien saw that now even his jewelry was black. “By those whom he feared the most.”
“The Unnamed?”
He hesitated only a moment, then nodded. “There’s nothing you can do, Reverend Vryce. You have to believe that. His own word gives them the power to judge him, his own blood makes him vulnerable....”
“How do I get there?” he demanded. His heart was like ice as he heard his own words, as he felt the power of his own commitment. “Tell me!”
The demon shut his eyes as if in pain. “Through the nightmare of his own fears. That’s the only path left, now that he’s in their hands. But no fleshborn being can travel that road safely. Even my kind—”
He stopped, but not soon enough.
“You can go there.”
He hesitated.
“Karril. Please.”
“I can go there,” he admitted. “I can also die there. I’m not willing to risk that.”
“Gerald told me that no Iezu has ever died.”
“Because we don’t take chances! Because we’re selfish spirits, who trade illusions for food in our neat little houses and mind our own business when meaner demons come calling!”
“Is that what Calesta’s doing?” he demanded. “Minding his own business?”
The demon winced. “I don’t ... leave him out of this.”
“He can’t be out of it! He’s part and parcel of this whole mess, and you know it!” He took a step closer to the demon, into what would have been his personal territory had he been truly human. “Or don’t you care if he has his way? Don’t you care if the whole human species is remade to suit his taste, bred and winnowed like animals until all they can do is eat and sleep and suffer. Is that what you want, Karril? Is that what any of the Iezu want? Where will you find your worshipers then?”
“I’ll survive,” he muttered. “But some of the others ...” He shook his head and whispered hoarsely, “I can’t get involved. It’s simply not allowed. The penalty—”
“Is worse than what I just described?” he demanded. “All right, so I was wrong. Maybe you and Calesta aren’t so different after all.” He made his tone as venomous as he could, hoping scorn might stir the demon where loyalty and compassion had failed. “Sorry to have bothered you.”
A shudder seemed to pass through the demon’s body. “That way is pain, and worse,” he whispered. His voice was strained, barely audible. “Don’t you understand? I couldn’t endure it. Even if I wanted to, even if I were willing to risk her displeasure ... I’m not human. I can’t absorb emotions which run counter to my aspect. No Iezu could survive such an assault.”
“So I’ll masturbate for you,” he said harshly. “Is that good enough? In the midst of Tarrant’s nightmares I’ll dream acts of pleasure, so you can stay on your feet. Hell, it worked for him, it should damn well work for you.”
The demon turned away. “I’m not human,” he whispered. The hanging tapestries had all turned black; even the wine in the fountain was dark. “The rules for us are ... different.”
“Yeah. I guess so.” Rage and despair churned in his gut at the thought of this, too, being a dead end. Where else was there to turn? He forced himself to turn away, while adding bitterly, “Sorry to bother you.”
He began to walk away from the demon, assuming the illusion surrounding him would fade when he tried to leave. It didn’t.
“Even if you survived the journey,” Karril pressed, “what would you do once you got there? Do battle with the Unnamed? Try to reason with it? It’s too powerful for the former, and far too unstable for the latter. And it might make things even worse for Gerald Tarrant, that a man of your stature cared enough to try to save him. Have you thought about that?”
“I’ve thought about everything,” he said sharply. “Most of all about what this world will be like if Calesta goes unopposed, and how little