TBTT 67. Carefully scaring the natives

[moonshadows]

The servants bearing luggage have already scurried aboard the train that will take them to the capitol of the delta region. The Warlord stands arrogantly on the platform, surrounded by guards, flunkies, and the visiting delegates while newspeople swarm around the edges, taking full advantage of the photo opportunity. She’s so busy keeping her own anxiety in check – it’s her first time in public as his tame demon – that it takes her a minute to realize he’s fighting anxiety of his own. Although he appears to be boldly posing so that the world can look its fill through the eyes of the cameras, his mind is seeing red sand and a red sky, a metal cage on wheels that gapes hungrily to devour him, and chains that bite into wrists, ankles, neck, and the folds of his wings.

The light touch of his Champion’s mind against his brings him back to the present, and he banishes the memory before reaching for her in return. Her anxiety whispers along the contact, wordlessly pleading for reassurance. None will harm you, he promises, and is rewarded with a burst of trust and adoration before her mind withdraws. Heartened by having been able to comfort her for a change, he strides fearlessly forward and boards the train. The head delegate hovers attentively as he settles into the private car resembling a lush parlor, assuring him that every luxury is available on this train before bowing his way out so that he can report to the chancellor.

“It’s a six-hour trip,” he says in the language of his birth once the train begins moving. “I do not expect you to stand at attention the entire time. Relax.”

“I hear and obey the words of my Lord,” she says solemnly before flashing him a teasing grin and claiming an overstuffed ottoman by one of the windows.

He watches her pensively for a few minutes, and she gets the impression that he’s not actually seeing her. He’s unhappy, that much is clear from the bladestorm surrounding his mind, but it’s a morose, brooding, quiet suffering rather than anything based in anger or irritation. Moving casually, she steals a large decorative pillow from a couch and takes a seat on the floor where she can put her head on his knee in a display of submission. After another few quiet minutes while they both watch the uneven stone of the tunnel wall slide by, he slowly places one hand on her head and absently strokes her hair.

Half an hour passes before the head delegate knocks on the door and cautiously pokes his head in. The sight of the Warlord sitting in an upholstered leather chair as though it were a throne, with his tame demon obediently at his feet, seems to reassure him and he nods to the guards. They follow him inside the car and take up positions on either side of the door.

“The chancellor is delighted that you’ve chosen to visit,” he gushes. “You and your people will have the finest lodgings – the best hotel has been emptied in preparation for your arrival, and for your security. The finest chefs have been hired to cater to you and are being moved to the hotel’s kitchen as we speak. Tickets for the best seats have been reserved for every performance currently being held in the city, from plays to concerts.”

Beneath his hand, the Warlord feels his demon jerk at the mention of concerts, and his brooding apathy cracks. “Concerts?”

The delegate looks relieved at having gotten a reaction of some kind. “Two, Warlord. One is a full orchestra performing re-imagined classic pieces from around the world, and the other is the current chart-topping pop band, ‘Hot Candy’.”

This time, there is no mistaking Tessa’s interest. Although she does not move, he can feel her quiver and is unsurprised when he feels her tendril tentatively tap at his defenses. You want to go? He asks silently.

Oh, please, Kal’shan – may I?

“My demon wishes to attend the ‘Hot Candy’ concert,” he announces, mostly resisting the urge to smirk at her silent glee.

For the space of two breaths, the chancellor’s servant looks ready to scoff at the idea of a demon even having an interest in music, much less the sort of thing that fills teenage girls with mindless glee. Then the disbelief is smothered beneath professionalism. “I’ll arrange it personally,” the head delegate promises – truthfully, which pleases the Warlord. “We’ve also arranged for a tour of the city and one of the government before the formal meeting, and the most prestigious businesses have all pitched in to provide you and your demon with a generous line of credit – useable at any location in the city – in hopes that you will grace their establishments.”

The Warlord makes a noncommittal sound and after a few more anxious comments, the head delegate bows himself out and the guards retreat as well. The train emerges into the sunshine shortly after, and while he still broods, the despair is no longer there. One hour later, to keep up appearances, he demands a lavish meal which the train’s chef delivers personally with sparks of thrilled gratitude cascading from his mind. It’s far too much for one person to eat, and after he’s done a credible job of tasting everything, he lets Tessa attack the rest and watches with faint amusement as she samples the various delicacies. She curls up on the pillow by his foot when she’s done, head leaned endearingly against his leg, and although he feels guilt at having her there, he’s grateful that she is. His fingers in her hair seem to relax her as much as they do him, and another hour passes in comfortable silence.

“If you were my enemy,” he says suddenly in his native tongue, “what opportunities would you see in this visit?”

“I’d make a move sometime before dawn tomorrow,” she says immediately. “Before you could gain any local support, and while the guards are still foggy from the trip.”

He grunts. “May as well get it over with, then. I will insist on the tour our erstwhile host mentioned; I trust that you can entertain yourself by shopping while I do.” When she makes no sound, he frowns. “What is it?”

“I’m supposed to be your tame demon. How do you want me to act when I’m not at your side?”

“Like yourself,” he snaps without thinking, then takes a deep breath and lets it out in a hiss. “I will not have you deny yourself simple enjoyments for my sake, and I will not force you to conform to the world’s expectations. When you are not at my side, you may do as you please. The world will conform its expectations to you. You will go shopping, and you will enjoy yourself, is that understood?”

Although he hadn’t intended to, he finds the last phrases were uttered in a tone that demands absolute obedience, and she sits straighter against his leg.

“Yes, my Kal’shan!” Then, in the language of Joshua’s world, “I hear and obey the words of my Lord.”

Baffled but pleased by her joyful obedience, he spends the rest of the trip in contented silence with his hand in her hair.

==================================

The station, naturally, is a riot. The newspeople of the delta are just as eager to take advantage of this photo opportunity as the ones of the mountains, and she finds herself grateful that her role only requires her to be blank-faced and present. Once off the train, the Warlord is again every inch the arrogant conqueror, watching with tolerant disdain as his guards and the guards of the delta’s capitol sort out who is protecting who, and where. More city guards hold back throngs of curious onlookers. A quick sampling of their public thoughts results in the interesting discovery that while some are anti-Warlord (and wish him a creative variety of harm), there is also a segment of the population which is sick of the perceived corruption of their government and actually wants him to take over. There’s the usual range of thoughts regarding her, of course: fear, hate, doubt, whore, assassin, fake. One mind, however, is excited to see her, and she focuses on that one.

Oh wow, it’s the demon! She looks cute. Dad said she’s going to the Hot Candy concert. I wonder if she’s going because she was ordered to, or because she actually likes them. Oh wow, her eyes are really bright green! Totally brighter than mine.

“Kal’shan,” she murmurs, “can I go talk to someone in the crowd?”

He looks at her, startled, and gives her a predatory smile. “Go ahead,” he says loud enough that the crowd hears him clearly, “but do not kill or seriously maim anyone without my permission.”

“I hear and obey the words of my Lord,” she answers ritualistically, then calmly starts walking towards the mind that was so eager to see her.

At her approach, the guards fall warily back and the crowd hushes, wondering what exactly she’s just gotten permission to do. They part before her like a silent sea until she looks into the startled emerald eyes of a girl her own apparent age, red hair cut short in a cute bob. Oh wow, the girl thinks. Are those horns real?

“Hi!” she says cheerfully, startling everyone in earshot. “My name’s Tessa. What’s yours?”

“Christine,” the girl answers after a moment.

“My Lord has commanded me to go shopping while he tours the city, and to enjoy myself.”

The other girl’s eyes widen at the unspoken invitation. “Shopping is more fun with company,” she says hopefully.

Tessa smiles serenely. “You look like you have good taste. I want you to be my guide and accompany me.”

Christine’s eyes widen further. “Me?” she squeaks. “But I’m just-“ …the daughter of the guy setting up this entire visit. Ack, does she know? Is she taking me hostage? …and if it gets me a shopping trip like that, even by proxy, do I care? She blinks and tilts her head. “Actually, never mind. I’m not even going to ask. I’d love to!”

“Good! You know which hotel we’ll be at. Wait in the lobby.”

With a sunny smile, the uniformed demon returns to her master’s side and once again becomes blankly obedient and seemingly oblivious to how she’s just unnerved the crowd and her guide.