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EIGHT
SYSTORAK
I ushered Lana into her chambers and shut the door behind us. I grin as I sit on the chair in front of the lit fireplace, lounging across from her. I lean forward and hold out my hands, using them as tools to describe the factions.
“So, you have the soz’garoth demons,” I say enthusiastically. “They’re amazing. They are the most notable strategists, and the missions they execute have never failed.”
“Who do they attack?” she asks, leaning forward and clasping her hands.
“Mainly berserkers, demons that have gone rogue, and any threat to our food supply,” I respond.
“Like the demon we just hired?”
I rock my head back and forth, inhaling. “Kind of, but the onewehired has never gone against any count or lord. Most of them do, and that’s when we call in the Tremaines.”
“Okay,” she moves her finger in a circle, motioning for me to continue.
“Then, there are the Gilak. They are massive demons made for fighting and nothing more. They might try to come for the coin and usenothingbut brute force.”
“How do I take him down if he comes for me?” she asks, concerned.
“We,”I emphasize, “use his speed against him. He’s slow, and his heart,” I point to my lower back. “Is here. Get behind him, and one fireball or stab will weaken him enough to get away.”
She sighs, trying to process the information. I wonder if I’m rambling and she’s getting tired, but she motions for me to continue.
I tell her about the factions, the wars through the ages, and where each stands now. She listens intently, and I feel excited for the first time in years. Talking about politics and explaining the resentment against leaders and kings makes me feel alive.
Even more, shewantsto know. Most of my conversations these days are superficial, boring court talk that would kill me if I let it. Now, I get to express my passions with someone whocares.
I stop myself mid-sentence and sit up straight. I clear my throat and wave my hand.
“I’m sorry, I’ve gone on for too long,” I say, slightly embarrassed.
I glance at her, staring at me with admiration and curiosity. She smiles and nods. “No, please, I want to know more.”
I sigh and place my hands on my knees, looking at the bookshelf. “Well,” I pause, standing and walking to the tomes. I grab a novel written ages ago, indeed of no interest to anyone, and rip out a page. I glance at the charcoal stick on the shelf and take it back to the chair.
“See,” I place the paper on the coffee table and draw various circles. “Each clan has varying views on government. If we should have a king, or if we should form a democracy, etcetera.”
“Okay,” she replies, intently studying the names I write in the circles.
“If you encounter,” I tap on one of the circles with the charcoal stick, “Gilak demons, woo them with stories of war. They thrive on respect for warriors. You can even make something up; they’re not incredibly intelligent.” I tap another circle and continue. “But most soz’garoth demons can sniff out a lie in seconds. They are the ones you must be honest with, truthful, but choose your words carefully.”
“And you are a trolvor demon who can be persuaded with mischief?” she asks.
“Yes,” I exclaim, looking at her.
I am shocked by her ability to memorize and repeat information. She’s like a sponge, soaking up everything I’m telling her willingly.
“So,” she asks quietly, “they’re all citizens? All respected?”
I nod and smile. “Yes, yes, but all in different ways.”
I watch her face fall. “Humans are oppressed everywhere.” She stands and walks to the fireplace, crossing her arms. “We don’t even have thechanceto gain anyone’s respect.”
My heart sinks at the thought of stirring her emotions. I drop the charcoal stick to the table and put my face in my hands before turning toward her.
“I’m sorry,” I say sympathetically.
