Short Fiction Complete by Greg Costikyan

Author:Greg Costikyan [Costikyan, Greg]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-05-05T00:00:00+00:00

Entwhistle’s study was quiet. It was deserted of both human and demonic occupants. The windows were open slightly, and a damp breeze redolent of bracken and brush blew the curtains aside. The room was lit only by the gray light that shined through the windows; dark carpets, dark paint, and the dark spines of books lent it a somber and civilized air.

The bolt on the door slid slowly back. The lock clicked, and clicked again. Seema opened the door a crack and peered within.

She half expected to be attacked by some demonic form. Entwhistle had made it plain she was to steer clear of his study. That was why he’d locked the door. It would have been like him to leave a trap for her.

But nothing happened. She pushed the door open and, gaining confidence, went to the desk, walking carefully around the pentacle. She sat down in Entwhistle’s chair, grinned, and put her boots on the desktop. She put her hands behind her head and looked around the room.

Then she got up, went to a bookshelf, and pulled down a tome, essentially at random. She flipped through it, skimmed the contents page, and put it back.

Working her way around the room, she began to get a glimmer of Entwhistle’s organizational scheme. She came across a volume that seemed more promising: Fiat Law Made Natural, or, The Bindings, Oaths, and Contracts of Summoners’ Lore.

She went to the desk and began to study the book. She realized the light was dim and, looking up, noticed an oil lamp on the desk. She hesitated, then decided to attempt one of the transformations she’d been practicing. Clearing her thoughts and summoning power, she willed the wick to flame.

And it did.

Emboldened by her success, she began to read more confidently.

As much as Entwhistle may have regretted swearing to instruct her, she regretted having sworn to obey him more. She had a romantic image of magic: she wished to sweep across the skies, borne up by the backs of demons, to conquer kingdoms with her powers, to have numerous suitors contend for the favor of the mighty wizardess’ hand, to rescue friends and slay foes. She had been educated well, though her parents sought nothing more for her than a favorable match, and she was familiar with literature and the arts; but, prior to her apprenticeship, she had no direct experience of magic, her knowledge of it deriving mostly from fiction.

Elias seemed to spend his time burning things in braziers, breathing noxious fumes, and reading, endlessly reading. She yearned for adventure, not for scholarship; and she was more than tired of the menial tasks to which Elias put her—especially since the man had demons aplenty to do the selfsame jobs.

Elias intended her to learn humility, as hubris is a dangerous trait in any demonologist: one must never summon anything one isn’t sure one can control. Seema didn’t feel humble; merely humiliated. She wanted out of her bargain.

And so she studied her book assiduously. But it was written in a dry, indirect style, replete with the jargon of the discipline.

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