“Stupid question, but why is everyone standing outside?” Ty asked.
It was Fell who answered. “Preparing for war. They all have their ways of finding out what’s going on. That one of your Knights is going around trying to recruit allies for you has helped fill in others.”
“They’re taking sides,” I said.
“Isadora and the Sisters opposing Conquest, though Isadora is keeping secrets. The High Drunk and the Shepherd are loosely affiliated with Conquest. The Knights and Astrologer are nebulously affiliated with you and your new circle,” Fell said.
The Astrologer is in our camp?
“It doesn’t matter,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“Conquest isn’t one for Pyrrhic victories. He plays for keeps,” Fell told me. “He’s just about won.”
I had a hard time putting a name to the feeling in my gut. It was kind of like the abstract demon in that regard. Too horrible. Paying too much attention to it would give it more power.
We approached the top of the tower.
“Oh… wow,” Ty muttered.
Conquest was in full monster mode. A giant, skin stretched over his muscular, warped frame, wearing gear that resembled both armor and a robe, with a halo that made me think of platinum. A sword twice as long as I was tall was slung across his back. A rifle with a bayonet attached was also slung over his back, going the other direction.
While my companions were awed at the sight of Conquest, my eyes fell on Conquest’s companions.
A man with rags draped over him from head to toe. Burly, tall, the sort of guy that’d be a top of the line defenseman on a hockey rink. Hair stuck out from the midst of the rags, scorched, standing up in sharp tufts. His skin was blistered and burned where I could see it. I could smell the smoke and ozone from the other side of the broad tower top. He burned away the air merely by being here, and I wasn’t in good enough shape to be breathing properly to begin with.
One of his eyes was visible. It burned so bright I couldn’t meet his gaze.
The Eye. An unliving, monstrous counterpoint to the notion that fire and energy are man’s tools to be harnessed. A disaster waiting patiently to happen.
Duncan Behaim. Not in uniform. He sat on the wall, slouching a little. Glaring.
Laird Behaim. Not in uniform, but he wore a long jacket with a badge on the sleeve. He didn’t slouch. He held his head high, his expression placid, pocket watch in hand.
Rose. Arms limp at her side, her head hanging. She didn’t even look up as we approached.
Conquest bent down, and he picked up a black-covered book that looked positively tiny in his massive hand.
“Three minutes before midnight,” Conquest spoke. His voice echoed in his alien realm.
“Yes,” Laird said.
I threw the arm down.
“Eight minutes until the imp frees itself.”
“Close enough,” Laird said.
“I imagine you have a strategy,” Conquest said.
Rose raised her head. I saw her eyes widen in surprise as she saw my friends.
“Yeah,” I said. “I do.”
I just wished it was a better one.
6.04
“I expected as much,” Conquest said. “Every man is someone’s son, and very few men have been born to fathers without some sanguine humors. To give up without a fight would mean going against thousands of generations of fathers who had the courage, adoration, and aspiration to find a woman, as well as the strength to survive to adulthood.”
“Are you planning on filibustering until the time’s out?” I asked.
“No,” Conquest said.
“Good,” I said. “Because I really don’t care all that much.”
“You’re being disrespectful.”
“I think actions matter more than words. I’ve listened, I’ve done as I was ordered. Three quests, three monsters fought.”
“If you think actions matter more than words, you may not be paying attention,” Fell said. “Words are very important in our world.”
Conquest spoke, his voice a low rumble that reverberated in an uncomfortable way, as if the deepest rumbles gave way to a nail-on-a-chalkboard screech that I couldn’t quite hear. “You’ve brought me an arm, but not the demon proper.”
“I still tried,” I said.
He seemed to consider. “I believe you. When the younger Behaim reported that you had bled yourself out, I thought you were trying to make yourself so weak as to be useless,” Conquest said.
“I still beat him. I couldn’t have been that useless,” I said.
Duncan glowered at me.
“You have a familiar, and a cabal,” Conquest observed.
“I prefer ‘circle’ to ‘cabal’.”
“Your concerns matter little to me. You are a diabolist, few would deny that. The diabolist’s circle is traditionally called a cabal.”
“Cabals,” Fell commented, “are traditionally exterminated by witch hunters or similar means. There are inquisitors in Montreal who would be very interested to hear about this.”