Charlot spoke a word of power, and then the tip of his right finger glowed with brilliant white light. As he spoke, he traced sigils in the air, drawing letters that glowed like fireflies.

"The last offer, and make no counteroffer, shade. It is the absolute or nothing. I hold all the power here. You will pledge to serve me eternally in all realms, all planes, to obey my word as law, and never to harm me, my allies, or my possessions in that order of priority, nor allow them to come to harm through inaction.

“In response, I pledge to free you from this circle. After one hundred years of service, I will offer you a renewal of this contract, banishment to the Yala, or absolute destruction. Should I die for any reason during this time, you will be unmade as if you never were. Speak your true name."

"Emymu."

The eight sigils of the contract turned in the air, and then turned in on themselves, again and again, spinning until they became a ring of white light, a halo around Emymu's head. It slipped lower and twisted around her long neck, and the white light crackled as it bit her flesh, and then there was a sound like stone breaking as the contract was struck.

The spell left an almost imperceptibly lighter circle of skin around her neck. There was no pain, but the weight of what she'd done settled over Emymu's frame like a great load.

"Now, for our circle." Charlot stepped across the rift into the circle of protection with Flaccaro. For another, it would be an act of suicidal overconfidence, trusting an untested contract that had been cast through a circle of protection? Against a demon armed with a powerful relic? Madness! Yet, Charlot had no doubt in his abilities. He could smell her, that sïthur scent of burning metal and dry desert musk. She needed only to reach out an arm and snap his neck, yet he never flinched as she turned her head to behold him, crimson eyes wide at his boldness.

"Shield your eyes," Charlot warned, and after a moment's pause, He stepped forward and drove Flaccaro's butt into the center of the circle with a note as pure as a bell. The ringing note did not fade. It grew stronger and stronger until the whole air of the room sang with reverberation, and then in three words of power, he shattered the ring, and then all was light!

With a roar like the blast of a furnace, the master arcanist vanished in a column of howling power. Without sight or sound, Charlot clasped Flaccaro with one hand and, with the other, conducted the explosion of energy, guiding it into a twisting spiral and drawing it into the staff. It was the rushing force of a flash flood or an avalanche, passing through the ancient archmage, and yet he was its master!

Though the harsh light scoured her eyes, Emymu stared on, aghast and terrified. The whole energy of the circle, a prison meant to last until the end of time, roared through the magician and the gleaming staff absorbed it all.

When it was through, the magician did not fall dead as he ought to, he did not drop to his knees or even tremble. He simply nodded. The task was done, the prison was shattered! Emymu looked at the staff as if it might explode at any moment, aware for the first time of the terrible energies it contained.

"What a stupid circle. Enough power to shatter a galleon, yet I can undo it with three words. Such is the work of pretenders! True understanding shall ever trump brute force!" Charlot proclaimed, and Emymu could not even nod, she was so stunned by the display.

Charlot had gained a step. The channeling would have buried a lesser mage but, instead, it had revitalized him! He saw the comprehension dawning in her red eyes. None of his threats had been bluffs.

"Well, come along. Let us see if my friends have bothered to wait for me. A bit more light, Flaccaro.” The staff burned brighter than the sun. “No! Not that much. You don't know your own strength!"

The master arcanist stepped across the gap once more and climbed up the stairs, stepping on sigils that were now nothing more than scratches in the stone. The shade hesitated, shut her eyes, and stepped across the circle's edge, free at last.

* * *

Once again, Charlot was damp as he climbed down from the rocks. He caught himself moving too surely on the slippery rocks and had to check himself. It would be quite stupid to survive the perils of dealing with a demon only to break his fool neck slipping on some rocks, drunk on the adulation of sorcery!

Climbing down from the steps, he saw at once two heads lift and two sets of ears perk in his direction. For an instant, he thought something had attacked Korak and the wolf, but soon, he saw they'd only overeaten.

The two rogues had overcome their distaste for Yala-burnt meat, and they'd dispatched the two deer that were scorched last night in the accident with the ring. Charlot could see black feathers on the charred ground. No doubt some ravens had been chased off.

"Rise, you gluttons! On your feet, Korak!"

Reluctantly, the silverpaw bear rose to his feet, and then after a moment, the wolf got up as well. He'd been lying on his unburnt right side. The wounded side was a mass of silvery scar that made Charlot wince by sight alone. What incredible pain was written there!

"We have a new ally. She is a bit unusual. You must accept her anyway. Come, Lak!" Charlot called, careful not to utter her true name. He was a bit vexed she had not followed him from the cave.

Instead of climbing down the stones as he had, the mask flew through the waterfall. Though the sun was high overhead, Charlot still felt a chill watching the blank face emerge from the spray. Water dripped from the flawless crystal. The smooth lines of its surface were beaded all over with moisture, and it slid through the air to hang above their heads, some ten feet from the ground.

At once, Korak and the wolf were fixated on the mask with great interest. They stiffened, like hunting dogs staring up at a squirrel.

"Is that your preferred form for travel?" Charlot asked, and the mask turned slightly from side to side. No. Emymu could not speak without a mouth, of course.

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"Show yourself, then! They must get used to you. Korak! Sit!" Charlot demanded, and the bear sat on its backside with a heavy thump. Charlot looked expectantly at the wolf, who turned his head, but he was a wild thing and did not understand. Charlot nodded, accepting that he would have to train the wolf. He'd been spoiled, finding a tame bear!

Black, smoky shadows boiled from the mask, flowing into the demon's lanky form. Korak's ears twitched in discomfort, and the wolf backed away, arching his back. He growled, low and guttural.

"Do not attack, young wolf. I won't save you again," Charlot demanded. Emymu took form, though she was not as substantial as she'd been in the chamber, or even the night before. The hard light of day shone right through her, and she had an aggrieved look on her face.

"The day pains me," she said, speaking with effort. "I am a creature of the night. Please, carry the mask. I cannot fly for long," Emymu begged, and it was no ruse. The touch of sunlight boiled away at her shadowy substance, and she sought shelter beneath a tree.

"Well, this is a problem. Certainly, I'm not going to handle the Asyndagrim. Would be that I had a satchel or a saddlebag to carry the mask in. I shall have to improvise something. You! Wolf! Settle down!"

The wolf's growl had grown into something ugly. He had neither forgotten the pain from last night, nor learned from it. Emymu lowered herself to the ground and curled into a ball, trying to keep as much of herself from the sun as she could.

To the wolf, this was weakness, and he seized his chance, rushing forward with a snarl, fangs bared. Before Charlot could cast a spell, the wolf lunged, but his jaws found only mist. Emymu broke apart into a cloud of whirling shadows. Like a spider's web, they clung to the wolf, and the more he thrashed and gnashed, the tighter they bound him.

The Asyndagrim darted so quickly it was just a black blur and plunged into the writhing mass of shadows. A moment later, Charlot heard a startled yelp, and then there was a terrified whine.

Oh, fool wolf!

The shadows dissipated, and the wolf thrashed on the ground, rolling on his back and clawing at his face with his hind leg. The mask was stuck to his face!

Korak gave a huff of surprise, and Charlot raised his eyebrows. The struggle was wild. The wolf was trying to scratch the mask off, then he was up on his hind legs only, dancing around in a circle, then back to all fours, shaking his head like wild. Yet, the mask would not be dislodged, no matter how he struggled.

At last, the wolf stiffened until his only motion was the heaving of his sides and the droop of his panting tongue. His eyes were blank and glassy behind the devil's mask.

The Asyndagrim had shifted form to fit the contou6rs of the wolf's face, and the holes in the mask's eyes grew dark, and then the red eyes of the devil blinked open.

The wolf's jaws moved, and a horrid sound emerged from its maw, a garbled mismatch of canine and devil sounds. Black mist dripped from its jaws, and its face rippled to something nightmarishly half-man, half-beast. Just as the other form had been, the shade was translucent. Charlot could see the wolf's jaws moving beneath the shadow.

"Wretched beast can't talk," Emymu hissed, and her voice was still more growl than speech, but Charlot could make it out.

"Have you killed the wolf?" Charlot demanded, annoyed that his work might be for naught.

"No…I only control him. It is difficult. The finger of the Laughing Star is upon him. She burns, like acid in my mouth."

"As you were poison in his. It took inanis to save him from your tainted blood. And silver dust to save him from the burn where you threw him in the fire. "

"You spent silver dust on a wolf?" Emymu asked, a bit incredulous. It was strange to hear the reproach coming from the very wolf he'd saved!

"He warned us you were coming. I was grateful," Charlot shrugged, as if it were nothing at all to use the precious dust on a wild animal.

"I will walk as this wolf during the day. You need not carry me," Emymu said, and the possessed wolf walked around in a circle, its steps halting and uncertain. Emymu seemed unpracticed at walking on four legs.

"Can the mask subjugate men as well as wolves?"

"That is its primary function. I have never taken an animal before. The other remains, I merely dominate them. How odd the thoughts of a wolf are!"

"You can read the thoughts of others when they wear the mask?" Charlot was astonished.

"Not simply hear, but I can speak them, change them. There is no mask like the Asyndagrim."

"Gods above and frauds below. Small wonder Ytrios sealed you up! What a tremendous power!" Charlot could not keep a bit of envy from his voice.

What would it be like, to hear the thoughts of a wolf, or a bear, or another person? To know the true unfiltered thoughts of another? A mask that revealed rather than concealed… His desire to take the mask back to his laboratory and tinker with it was almost a physical ache.

"Why is that bear so large?" Emymu asked, nodding the wolf's head at Korak, who raised his own snout curiously.

"Ha! Korak is a silverpaw. He's not even half-grown. He is my companion. Never do to him what you have done to that wolf."

"I prefer not to do this at all. It is very…" Emymu struggled for words, "disquieting. I must flee the touch of day."

The shadow mouth melted away, and the red devil eyes shut. The darkness in the mask's sockets faded so that the wolf's own blue eyes looked out once more. The mask, too, faded away until there was only the wolf, standing unnaturally still.

Charlot's eyes flickered into the Yala at once, and as he suspected, the mask was still there, though it was invisible to normal sight. For a moment, he glimpsed Emymu's true form, and he fought to keep from recoiling, his back stiffening as he summoned his will.

Show no weakness before a sïthur!

"Can you hear me?" Charlot asked, and the wolf's head dipped low, and then rose again. The movement was jerky and uncomfortable. It was plain to see it was the mask pulling the strings. "Can you make the wolf follow us?" Again, the strange nod.

The birds sang and the waterfall rushed, and a sudden clarity settled over Charlot, and he knew he ought to destroy all three, wolf, Emymu, and Asyndagrim, right here and now. He gripped Flaccaro, feeling the power surging through the staff. This was the weakest she would ever be, beneath the midday sun, freshly sprung from her prison.

The bear and the wolf looked at him, and he knew Emymu was watching as well. He had the hair. He could find the boy, and nothing in his contract forbade him from simply destroying the demon outright.

Yet again, he found only excuses where there ought to be resolve. Where was the ruthless duelist who'd slain twenty-one fools? Where was the mastermind archmage who always set the grander scheme before such trifles as betrayal?

Old. He has grown old and soft, half-blind and full of aches. He spends his scrying powder on bumpkin towns and his silver dust on wild animals. He sets free what ought to be destroyed outright, he falls for the ruses of demons, and blunders in the footsteps of runaway boys.

"We've tarried far too long," Charlot announced to the bear and the wolf. "Let us find the boy."

Once more, Charlot bound the shadowcat pelt around Korak's impossibly broad shoulders, setting the deer pelt beneath it for a bit of added cushion. How he wished he had time to make a proper saddle. Jostling all day on the back of a silverpaw bear was taking its toll on his old bones.

At last, Charlot took the hair from his pocket and walked toward the river. The bear and the wolf loped behind him.