Chapter 2

Ash^b watched the girl practice her spell-casting through a peephole in the alley wall for the better part of an hour. Trail was correct. The girl she happened to see in the Courtesans' Guild while attending the king did indeed look amazingly like her. She was breathtakingly beautiful by Quelese standards: lithe yet curvaceous, and full of the grace and mystique granted by a strong high elven heritage. She also had long curly red hair: a rarity amongst the Quelese.

As Ash marveled at the girl's uncanny likeness to herself, she reviewed what she had learned about the young courtesan. Apparently, she was one of the king's favorite girls to visit. Recently, she had taken an interest in magic, but Ash wasn't quite sure why.

The presence of this doppelganger alarmed Ash. When Santaheim I, the current king's father, created her and the other nagas, he handcrafted each of their appearances. Was it possible that her own appearance was based off of the likeness of his son's favorite prostitute? Many were modeled after women that he knew.

No, it simply isn't possible, Ash told herself. This Kitiala would have been a mere toddler when she was created. Their similarities were purely coincidental.

It did explain one thing. The king had recently decided that a few nagas should start being subjected to haste spells in order to accelerate the aging process. Whereas most nagas looked like prepubescent girls in nymph form, she and the few others that were receiving treatment had the appearance of being well into the teenage years. Now she knew why she had been among those who were chosen. She suspected it for some carnal purpose, but she didn't know for certain.

Still, though the idea repulsed her, Ash did consider that she might be able to use this to her advantage somehow. She left her peephole and walked to the Temple District.

She walked past the great, opulent edifices dedicated to the various gods of the Quelese pantheon. Her destination was a small building in the corner of the ward, shrouded in darkness. She pushed open the door of the Church of Taran and entered.

A skinny, raven-haired girl with a pale complexion and a black robe greeted Ash. Her voice was soft and wispy. "Finally, you're here! What took you so long?"

"I was delayed," Ash responded, embracing Trail. "Get ready to summon him."

"I already did," Trail whispered. "You know he hates to wait."

"Dash it all!" Ash rushed past the giant emerald snake altars, kicked the rug aside, and hurried through the secret trapdoor.

The recent resurgence of necromancy had proven to be a boon to the nagas as the plotted to gain more power for themselves. They quickly caught on to the intricacies of the demonic soulstone economy, and lately they had grown accustomed to wheeling and dealing with some increasingly powerful entities. Unfortunately, the mightiest demons often proved to be fickle and cryptic, despite their potential for bestowing great knowledge unto their summoners.

In the dank confines of the basement, the torchlight reflected off of the bone-colored skin of the demon taking up most of the room. He idly scratched one of his nostrils, set in his forehead between his long horns. The demon’s face was mostly unreadable: his lipless mouth was locked perpetually in a huge grin of slender fangs that never parted, even when he spoke. As Ash approached he began in a gravelly, high-pitched tone, "You try my patience, mortal."

Ash drew back the hood of her robe and bowed her head. "I apologize, great one. Please forgive my truancy, I..."

"The sniveling will cease, elfling," the demon interrupted, the tendrils on his back stiffening in irritation. "Contrition does not amuse me."

Ash was inclined to be humble. The demon was over twice her size and possessed deadly magic. It could disintegrate her with little more than a thought. "Estro tu'u, fisu Kwi'fang'fang," Ash said solemnly.

"Ah," the demon said, bobbing his head, "your pronunciation is improving. Demoniac rolls easily from your serpent’s tongue." He held out a bony hand, his twiggy fingers each nearly as long as her forearm. "We may have a common patron, but I still require compensation."

Ash produced a small blue gemstone and placed it in the demon's palm. He squinted his pupil-less black eyes and placed the gem in a pocket of his belt. "A loud one, this," the demon began. "What knowledge shall I bequeath unto you today, little girl?"