names.
Trytohn had received regular and increasingly annoying reports concerning the young Soul Singer over the last few months...
Or was it years?
Time was hard to keep track of.
Apparently this upstart was "something special"; a handler for the Guild. He had squared off against some of Trytohn’s agents and pulverized them.
The fact that he was one of the few singers fully committed - mind, body and soul - to the service of the Composer made him immune to the majority of Trytohn's attacks. It also made him forbidden fruit. As long as he maintained his integrity, Trytohn wasn’t allowed to touch him directly.
It didn't take long for Trytohn to decide the potential payoff wasn't worth the very hefty investment. By then, Acheron and Lyric had already smoked forty of his favorite dogs. He still did not understand that. Acheron loved his hounds. The fact that she would shred them so willingly for this infant bothered him more than a little.
Word recently reached him that Race Widoc had managed to sign Lyric to seven contracts. That was encouraging. At least he could be followed, regardless of his protection. Plus, there was always the pleasant possibility that Lyric would renege on one of the contracts, thereby putting him directly into Trytohn’s power.
Then, the ultimate surprise, Lisian and Legion managed to destroy the Soul Singer's Guild. Trytohn still couldn't believe they succeeded where he himself had not. He suspected the strange Verger that Lisian adopted as a pet may have contributed to their success. He might bear further scrutiny. Still, it was a huge win that caused much celebrating amongst the fallen.
A stirring at the edge of the River Acheron roused him from his musings. Trytohn waited quietly. He had a lot of practice waiting. Eventually a small, portly demon in what was once a bright yellow suit clawed his way out of the water. He flopped onto the mud at Trytohn's feet.
"Hello, Race, how are you feeling today?" The Prince of Darkness greeted the small demon pleasantly.
Coughing out scalding water, Race Widoc sat up and looked warily at his master through swollen eyelids. His face looked like one giant blister.
"I'm much better now, your highness. Just a little wet. The lovely Acheron took some exception to me performing my duties, so I've been indisposed for a time." The rotund demon chose his words carefully.
Trytohn nodded his understanding.
"I've elected to free her of the burden of her magic for the time being." Trytohn gestured to the tree he leaned against.
"Thank you, sire, your wisdom is timely as always. I'm sure otherwise I'd still be in there." Race flicked a hand with too many rings at the burning waters from which he'd just emerged. "Would it be a safe assumption that your presence here indicates you have need of me?"
"You drew up the contracts we have on the Soul Singer, Lyric" Race carefully kept his face neutral, but Trytohn could sense his tension. "I'm curious to know who holds them.”
“Mistress Bonen Tansyon.”
“Really? Not Lisian?”
“No sire.”
For a demon, Race was terrible at deceit.
“Now, Race,” Trytohn crooked a finger and Race was suddenly suspended in the air back over the boiling river. “Carefully consider your position before you answer. Is anyone besides Bonen Tansyon involved in these contracts?”
“The Verger, Varia Tur. I saw
Trytohn had received regular and increasingly annoying reports concerning the young Soul Singer over the last few months...
Or was it years?
Time was hard to keep track of.
Apparently this upstart was "something special"; a handler for the Guild. He had squared off against some of Trytohn’s agents and pulverized them.
The fact that he was one of the few singers fully committed - mind, body and soul - to the service of the Composer made him immune to the majority of Trytohn's attacks. It also made him forbidden fruit. As long as he maintained his integrity, Trytohn wasn’t allowed to touch him directly.
It didn't take long for Trytohn to decide the potential payoff wasn't worth the very hefty investment. By then, Acheron and Lyric had already smoked forty of his favorite dogs. He still did not understand that. Acheron loved his hounds. The fact that she would shred them so willingly for this infant bothered him more than a little.
Word recently reached him that Race Widoc had managed to sign Lyric to seven contracts. That was encouraging. At least he could be followed, regardless of his protection. Plus, there was always the pleasant possibility that Lyric would renege on one of the contracts, thereby putting him directly into Trytohn’s power.
Then, the ultimate surprise, Lisian and Legion managed to destroy the Soul Singer's Guild. Trytohn still couldn't believe they succeeded where he himself had not. He suspected the strange Verger that Lisian adopted as a pet may have contributed to their success. He might bear further scrutiny. Still, it was a huge win that caused much celebrating amongst the fallen.
A stirring at the edge of the River Acheron roused him from his musings. Trytohn waited quietly. He had a lot of practice waiting. Eventually a small, portly demon in what was once a bright yellow suit clawed his way out of the water. He flopped onto the mud at Trytohn's feet.
"Hello, Race, how are you feeling today?" The Prince of Darkness greeted the small demon pleasantly.
Coughing out scalding water, Race Widoc sat up and looked warily at his master through swollen eyelids. His face looked like one giant blister.
"I'm much better now, your highness. Just a little wet. The lovely Acheron took some exception to me performing my duties, so I've been indisposed for a time." The rotund demon chose his words carefully.
Trytohn nodded his understanding.
"I've elected to free her of the burden of her magic for the time being." Trytohn gestured to the tree he leaned against.
"Thank you, sire, your wisdom is timely as always. I'm sure otherwise I'd still be in there." Race flicked a hand with too many rings at the burning waters from which he'd just emerged. "Would it be a safe assumption that your presence here indicates you have need of me?"
"You drew up the contracts we have on the Soul Singer, Lyric" Race carefully kept his face neutral, but Trytohn could sense his tension. "I'm curious to know who holds them.”
“Mistress Bonen Tansyon.”
“Really? Not Lisian?”
“No sire.”
For a demon, Race was terrible at deceit.
“Now, Race,” Trytohn crooked a finger and Race was suddenly suspended in the air back over the boiling river. “Carefully consider your position before you answer. Is anyone besides Bonen Tansyon involved in these contracts?”
“The Verger, Varia Tur. I saw
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