I am Desdera. I am afraid.
Somehow, I have been torn out of the Hells where I reside. I have been torn away from my Mistress! Torn from her very embrace. How do I find myself subject to such a terrible fate? What dreadful horrors await me?
I am afraid, but I am also angry. Has some entity schemed to take me away from my proper place? How dare they! Above all, I must return to my beloved Mistress, but I know that if I can I will seek also to wreak revenge on whoever dared to cross Mistress Semrami and myself, her favoured servant.
Eventually, I feel that my surroundings have stabilised. I can hear a soft chanting. I can smell burning incense.
I stay tightly curled up and try frantically to think. I can’t sense my Mistress’s presence. I am not in her palace. I can’t remember ever being anywhere else but in her palace! Why am I not in her palace!?
It is terrifying.
And yet, memories begin to come back to me in a wave. Mistress taught me about this danger. A summoner.
‘Almost all mortals are very weak, but some trick of existence enables some of them to fish into other realms and pluck beings like us out, Desdera, forcing us into their plane of being.’
She trained me in what to do in this situation. Above all, I must think of her. The longing to return to her fills me with determination. She may never forgive me for this disruption of her pleasures!
Slowly, I uncurl, ready to face the one who dares to interfere with Mistress’s property.
I look around and begin to stand. A dim room of stone. I am within a circle of runes and candles. The chanting voice ceases. I turn towards it.
“Rada?” It is addressing me. “Oh, thank all that’s good! It is you!”
To my surprise, I recognise the speaker. It is that auburn-haired woman that Mistress showed me an image of. She means no more to me now than she did then.
“Who dares summon me?” I say in my best growl.
The mortal woman is looking me with such a strange expression. Relief? Concern? So many soft feelings whose names I am unsure of.
“Rada! It’s me! I did it! I managed to do it. I brought you back. I promised I would. I’m sorry it wasn’t sooner.”
I hiss. “Who is this Rada? I am a demon of the pits. I devour the souls of those foolish enough to draw me forth!” In my lessons, I was taught to seek to intimidate a summoner. My experience of soul-devouring has been limited.
The mortal starts to move towards me, but quickly halts, looking down at the circle.
“Rada, please try to remember. You know me. You love me. You’re my servant. My lover.”
My thoughts roil with fury at the notion of being the servant of anyone but Semrami! But I know that I must show none of it. This could all be a ruse to gain information about my Mistress. I must give nothing about her away.
“I serve no one! And certainly not a puny mortal such as yourself.”
“Oh…” Droplets of some kind of fluid run down the mortal’s face from its eyes. “Oh, I didn’t want to think she could change you this much. Rada, she’s… She’s altered your body. Twisted your mind. Taken your memories…. You are almost unrecog– But I’ve brought you back! I can fix it! Fix you. The Tower has all the knowledge I need. Rada, try to remember who you were! I’ve saved you! It’s safe for you to be yourself again now.”
She makes such bizarre claims. I am a demon. I have always been a demon. “Your words are naught but deceit. In the way of all mortals.” I stare at her, unblinking.
She makes a sniffling sound. “Okay. It will take time. I… I was ready for this, Rada. I will help you. She’s made you into a demon. I will need to bind you here. Then I will have the time I need to redress what she did. She’s made you into a demon, but I can overcome it. I– I’ve prepared the tools for this. She won’t win. You’ll be yourself again, Rada, I promise you!”
Bind? I stiffen for a moment when I hear the word, but I think she did not see it. The mortal realm is not a place where demons can stably remain. Even a summoning circle like this may only keep one on this plane for a short time. But if in some way they are bound… I must not let that happen.
My eyes search around the chamber looking for anything of use. Runes and ritual candles. A bench stacked with tomes. Banners on the walls bearing complex symbols… Wait. There. A different kind of candle. Near the mortal. Somehow I find that I know of such a thing. Inked with little lines down its length, it is used by mortals to mark the passage of time. Did the mortal prepare it to track how long her circle will keep me here?
At the moment, the candle is behind her, but clearly in sight for me.
I think of a ploy.
I sit down, cross-legged, in the centre of the circle.
“Summoner… What was the name you spoke to me?”
“Rada!” She seems excited.
“Hmm. Rada. Rada.” I make a show of testing the name on my tongue. “That is not my name. Do you mean to trick me into revealing my true name by guessing false ones?”
“No, no. Rada is– was–… is! Rada is your true name! Your name when you were mortal!”
“Rada… Something about the name does seem familiar. Tell me about this Rada, mortal. Perhaps I shall recall. But attempt no deceit! You will learn nothing from me.”
The woman’s face lights up. “I will! I will tell you. And it is all true, Rada, I swear. You were Rada. You are Rada! I’ll tell you everything. Listen, it will help you remember, I’m sure.”
I cannot fathom such delusion. The mortal continues to prattle, but I tune it out completely. Instead, I extend my senses and contemplate the summoning circle.
It serves a number of functions. It keeps me trapped within it. It served as a dimensional magnet to draw me, specifically, here. I can see in the runes that the summoner already knows my true name. Using it, she sought me out with great precision.
Why would she do so? No, there could be no possible reason to target a lowly demon such as me. She must have summoned me forth in order to strike a blow against my Mistress. To undermine her by taking away her favoured servant and trying to confuse her mind.
I continue to examine the circle. I note that it also serves as a portal that will propel its contents back where I was summoned from when it expires! This summoner must not be very expert. She says she wishes to keep me and bind me on the mortal plane, but she brought me here with a circle that includes the function of sending me back. Perhaps she merely copied or adapted it from an example — from a book — without a full understanding of what each element of it does?
She is still talking. Talking and talking. Childhoods? Friendships? Other such mortal terms. I smile, thinking that all I need do is stall her, wasting time until the portal sends me back.
“Oh, Rada!” she cries. “Your smile! Can you feel it? It is just the smile you always wore. Well, at least, I sometimes saw it. It is such a human smile. You are remembering, aren’t you?”
This is so tiresome. And this place is so cold. So quiet. So ugly. The Hells are warm, and sometimes sear! There are always the cries of the lost and the damned to be heard. And Mistress’s palace is the most beautiful and fascinating place, filled with treasures: her prizes; gifts her petitioners have sent her; spoils she has taken.
Even when Mistress was absent, I had so much to do in her palace. Among my other duties, there were imps to be kept in line. Her hounds to be fed. Yes, I even miss the affectionate, acidic slobber of her many-headed hounds… But in this place, there is nothing for me but to sit trapped in this tiny circle and listen to the jabber of a fool.
“Remember?” I sigh. “What do I remember?”
“Yes, I knew it! No mere demoness could blot out the bond between us. You can feel it, can’t you, Rada?”
With little enthusiasm, I decide to press on with the deception. “Rada,” I say. “Rada. Was that really my name? Was I really her?”
The summoner is outright jubilant. “Yes! Yes! You were! You’re remembering!”
The breakthrough, as she sees it, seems to spur her into action. She gets up and looks around. Looks at the clock-candle. In my mind, I curse. Did I make an error?
“Oh, I haven’t much time! The mantle!” She is spurred into action. I watch the candle burn down intently. Surely she is too late? I have delayed her enough. Soon her own summoning circle will propel me back where I belong…
“Aha! Here it is!” She produces something from among the stacks of tomes. Some furred and feathered covering? In the climate of the Hells, I have never worn coverings. As I watch, it floats through the air towards me. Into the circle. Invisible servants, I somehow recognise. I shy away from it, but there is little room to move within the constraining circle. It comes to rest upon my shoulders. It is heavy and feels unpleasant. I try to shrug it off, but I can’t shift it!
“I know, Rada, it is a horrible old thing, isn’t it?… You won’t believe how I got it. I was so bad! I snuck into the seventh-floor museum. It’s not one of the display items, but I read that it was in the collection. I tested it on weak demons I summoned in practice. It will keep you here stably within the circle while you wear it. But it’s just a temporary measure! I have this all planned out, Rada. Oh, I can’t wait to hear how you’ll admire me when you are yourself again, for managing to organise all that I have. And to think that I’ve done it all without your help!”
I want to shrug the thing off. It’s keeping me here? Get rid of it! But the cursed, stinking thing seems to be fastened onto my shoulders. I must try to show no hint of my frustrations. No hint of the agony I feel to be kept from my proper place. I think of my Mistress’s body and long for her. My determination is renewed. I will be patient and cunning. And, with this prattling mortal, I will be ruthless.
“Oh Rada, it’s all so vexing. You must feel awful right now. Beginning to remember who you are — but look at you! It must be so difficult to recall that you are human when your body has been so… mis-shapen.”
I stifle a snarl. I have been shaped just as my Mistress wills!
“But you will be so pleased with me, Rada. I’ve thought of all of this! Wait one moment.”
The mortal goes around behind a partition wall, and from behind that I hear a door open and close. Footsteps on stone going away.
Once she is gone, I let out an infernal wail of pent-up emotion. I gnash my teeth. I think of the summoner, torn limb from limb. Then reassembled in a less flattering shape to be torn apart again.
How long must I tolerate this? Why must demons suffer such treatment by puny, fleshy mortal summoners?
I temper my rage and concentrate. I am a demon. Demons — as my Mistress has told me — are eternal. I am eternal, I assure myself inwardly. Time means nothing to a being such as I. This is a mere inconvenient moment. A blip interrupting my true existence. My true timeless nature. My eternal service at my Mistress’s side. At her feet.
My emotions are not calmed. But they are banked. I renew my examination of my surroundings. My senses extend beyond those mortals know. I try to extend them beyond this tiny chamber. But I am balked. In the spaces behind the walls, there are wards which deflect me. Beyond the ceiling and floor too. The door, concealed from my direct sight, might even be the strongest and most enchanted spot. This chamber is well warded. Far beyond this emotional summoner’s ability, I think. This is a cell, long-perfected, built for the containment of demons.
All I can do is examine the contents of the room again… But there is nothing. Nothing of use.
I wait. My eyes idly study the runic patterns of the summoning circle as I wait for the mortal’s return. I think about her words — those that I can recall, at least. I search for vulnerabilities in them. This location is well-fortified. It is the summoner using this facility that is the weak link. She herself, in her weakness, will present me with my chance of escape.
Yet, as I inspect the circle, I notice something else. Something very intriguing. Another definite mistake, I am sure. I grow confident. It could all be part of a more complex trap, but I do not think so. I think the summoner is as unskilled and foolish as she seems. Deep inside, I smile. Not only shall I escape. I shall bring my Mistress back a prize to win her forgiveness.
The door. The summoner is back. I assume a neutral position within the circle.
The mortal looks at me. Her expression is… sad? Pitying? She’s carrying phials of some clear liquid.
“Oh, Rada, I still can’t believe just what she’s done to you. Why, look at you! She is such a base creature to do this to you. Those vulgar colours. And…” She gestures. “Wings! A tail!” She sounds quite affronted. “You must feel traduced, I’m sure. Traduced!”
I say nothing. Perhaps in this miserable place I seem out of place. Where I belong, in a palace in the Hells, I know I am an adornment.
“Well, Rada, I assure you, I have thought of this as well. I hoped I would be in time, and you would not be so changed. But I prepared even so. Quite a changed woman in extremis, am I not, Rada?”
“Remarkable,” I say quietly.
She almost skips with joy at the comment. “Catch this, Rada.”
The summoner throws one of the phials into the circle. Instinctively, my hand snaps out and snatches it out of the air.
I hold it up before my eyes. “What is this?”
“To restore your natural complexion, my dear Rada. Pour it onto your skin and rub it in vigorously. It may tingle a little, but soon you will be feeling like your old self, I promise you.”
The idea is repellent. But I have my scheme now. I shall play along a little longer.
But I almost regret it. When I pour the liquid onto my belly, it is agonising! Such terrible burning. Not the soothing balm of a flame, or the refreshing splash of acid. This is true torment of the kind that only mortals can see their way to inflicting upon demons.
Yet I express none of it, beyond a slight frown, I think. I rub the stuff into my skin. It only gets worse.
“Does it hurt, Rada?” she asks with concern.
“A little,” I permit.
“But look, Rada! It’s working!”
I look. The liquid has effervesced on my skin, leaving a green sludge. I peel it away. The fresh skin beneath is… pink. Mortal?
For a brief moment, my mind entertains the notion that this summoner could be right. That I was once her ‘Rada’. That my demonhood is a veneer over a mortal self. But it is the briefest moment. I think of my Mistress and, within my mind, dark comforting bonds of her shadow enclose my thoughts. I know who I am. A tiny glimmer of gold lost in Semrami’s gloom. This is no more than another mortal trick. One that I shall turn to my benefit…
“If you can bear it, Rada, keep rubbing in more.” Her invisible servants carry more phials into the circle.
Stilling a grimace, I open one and begin rubbing the vile fluid into my thigh. I assure myself that, once I am enveloped by my Mistress again, I shall be restored from this… unpleasantness.
“Oh, you’re doing so well, Rada.” The mortal sounds to be completely deceived. “You shan’t be stuck inside that awful circle too much longer, either. I’ve been at work on that too.” She points at the banners on the walls. “Those are part of it. I’m going to stabilise the entire chamber for you. You’ll have the run of the entire cell, Rada!”
An entire cell to myself? Truly, the temptations of the mortal realm beggar description… I would laugh, but for the pain I feel as the beautiful golden skin of my thigh is rendered to a pale mortal substitute.
“Rada… Rada, you are remembering? Please, tell me, how much do you remember?”
I wait for her to finish talking, then after a time I speak.
“I… I am not sure.” I look at her directly. “I do remember you. Your face.”
“You do? Oh, you do! Thank goodness. Of course.”
She believes me. I only know her face from some image that I dimly recall my Mistress showing me. “I… I… I tried to remember you. I was punished for thinking of you! I was told I had imagined you.”
She’s smiling now. She looks so happy. “That’s it! Rada! Don’t you see? You clung to the thought of me! It was what you held onto to remember who you were! Oh, that’s so romantic, Rada!”
Can mortals truly be so easy to deceive?
I stand. “You cannot be real. I was told you were not real. Over and over. Is this some trick to test me?” I try to reach out to touch her but, of course, my hand cannot leave the barrier created by the circle. “No, just a vision that deceives me.” I turn away from her.
“Rada!” I am turned away, but I can sense her drawing very close to the circle. “You cannot breach the circle. Nor can I. There’s still… too much risk. I’m so sorry. So sorry for everything. We must be patient. Soon we’ll be able to hold one another again.”
I would rather embrace one of the hounds. Rather an imp, even.
But I don’t say as much. “It is difficult,” is what I say. “I don’t understand what is happening.” I reach over my shoulder and point at my little wings. My cute wings, Mistress said. “This liquid, can it help me with these? I was… was made to grow them. It hurt so much. They feel so wrong. They still hurt me, every moment. Will you help me be rid of them, please?”
Her servants float another phial to me.
I sigh.
“I cannot reach my back…”
“Oh…” She sounds torn. Unseen to her, I smile. She vacillates for a few moments. “Yes, Rada. I’ll do it. If it will help you, I’ll do it. But that mantle will be in the way, won’t it? Give me a moment.”
I watch as she attends to the circle. Reinforcing it and channeling renewed energies into it. But the vulnerability I identified in it remains, unnoticed by her. Triumph feels so close. I focus on giving no sign of it.
“There. That should give us more time. I shall reach in and work the liquid into you. Soon those hideous changes she has worked on you will be no more than unpleasant memories.”
She pours the fluid onto her hands. It certainly doesn’t seem to burn her.
“Although,” she wonders aloud, “what do you think about what she’s done to your breasts, Rada? I can’t help but wonder… I don’t think I would really need to do anything about those, would I?”
I shake my head. Let her interpret that as she wishes. Mortals display so many weaknesses.
“Now, come close to the edge. That’s right, let me see your back. Did she make you taller?” I feel her lift the weight of the binding mantle from my shoulders. “There. I know this must be hurting you a little, Rada, but relax: let’s make everything that’s befallen you fade away like a bad dream.”
Her hand touches my shoulder. “You see, Rada? I am real! You’re home!” She cannot see my grim smile.
Swifter than any mortal, I turn around and seize her arm, dragging her bodily into the circle. She yelps, startled, but I have just begun. With a tendril of power, I reach out to exploit the weakness I noticed in the design of the runes: I activate the circle’s spell of return.
Again, I feel that strange foreign force tug on me powerfully. But this time it is anything but unwelcome. I lock the mortal in a tight embrace, keeping her with me in the circle.
“Foolish mortal,” I hiss in her ear. “I care naught for your ‘Rada’! My true name is Desiderata. Come with me to hell!”