-awake. Luos caught himself teetering, stumbling back upright before falling outside of the circle. Samsian made no move, neither to catch him nor retreat should the boy break the circle, but he could feel a tenseness in the old man.

  “I’m alright,” he said. But there was no response.

  The room was different now. The avatar of operation was gone, just as mysteriously as it had appeared. Mingling with the carbon scent of smoke was also a scent of sugar, sour, and early rot. The citron, its metal rods no longer sparking, was a blackened and desiccated husk of its former rich plumpness. And just beyond the wasted fruit, the hawgling was moving.

  No longer was it squealing in animalistic fear. Now its bound movements were more delicate, almost curious. As Luos watched, the creature tugged its forelimbs methodically, seeming to test the bonds of the rope. Its flat ears flopped as it looked at the ropes, tilting its head this way and that. Luos had never seen such intelligence in an animal, apart from Peezlebub.

  “There,” said Samsian, “the beast is possessed.” Luos quelled a joyous shout at the confirmation from his master. First impressions were important, and especially critical with spirits such as daemons. He remained cool and collected, not responding to the old wizard.

  “Now comes the real work,” Samsian said, mirroring Luos’ own thoughts.

  Luos took a breath, then boomed as heartily as a twelve year old could, “I am addressing the daemon Asmod. Is this the entity which inhabits this creature?”

  The hawg ceased examining its bonds and looked at Luos. Then it looked at Samsian. It refused to reply.

  “I repeat, is this the daemon Asmod to which I have bound to this creature?”

  Again, Luos was met with silence, but Samsian had prepared him for noncompliance. Daemons were fickle things, sometimes unyielding. To get around this, wizards had developed tools of encouragement, to gently prod the entity into cooperation.

  “Three times I ask, is this the daemon Asmod? Beware! Should I not be satisfied, I should invoke the Silver Barbs to loosen your tongue.”

  Luos would have completed the threat on a confident note, had Samsian not coughed politely to draw his attention. The old man was pointing at his own mouth, inscribing a circle around it in the air with his finger.

  “Umm… Belay the warning, daemon. First, I give permission only for the removal of the metal wire about this vessel’s snout.”

  Luos, though caught off-guard by forgetting he would need to grant the creature permission to speak, chose his own words carefully. Had he only given permission to “remove bindings”, the daemon could possibly extend the permission to the ropes about its legs. Or possibly even to the circle itself and return to the spirit realm, considering their interview over.

  Once granted the verbal permit, the hawg slackened. This unnerved Luos, who considered the possibility he had unwittingly allowed the daemon leave, despite his careful wording. But a few heartbeats later, life returned to the hawgling. The wire began bending of its own accord, as though by an unseen hand, straightening and therefore loosening the vessel’s jaws. It clenched and unclenched its teeth unspeakingly a few times. Luos thought he heard it mutter, “Why would I make it so tight?”

  “Now, daemon. Assent, tell me if I am speaking to the daemon Asmod. Truthfully.”

  “Yeah, I’m Asmod,” it said dejectedly.

  Relief and satisfaction welled up inside Luos, almost too much to contain. He had done it! He had summoned his daemon with no hiccups, and especially no major failings. Thoughts of failure and rejection evaporated and his shoulders lightened.

  There was another cough, this one less polite, instead sharper. It was Samsian’s admonishment cough. Was it directed at Luos for getting caught up in the moment? No, it was-

  “I sense derision, daemon. Do I need to squeeze glad compliance out of you with Nanden’s Constrictor?” Without having intended it, he had threatened punishment. Was that really something he was okay doing? Samsian had drilled into him the seven coercions, the eight admonitions, the nine perpetuities, the rite of imprisonment, and the banishment. But he had not until now considered the weight of the responsibility, of causing harm to something under his control.

  Samsian’s words came back to him now. “As children need the switch, daemons more need the guiding influence of the spells of punishment. But I say even moreso, as these are measurements of safety as well. A child cannot reduce you to cinders with a column of fire, nor can a baby strike a spring of water in your air soul, the means by which you and I breathe. A daemon can. In the end, their comfort is your destruction, and we cannot allow them to go unbound.” Now was the time for Luos to harden himself, for his own preservation and for the restraining of this source of power, the spirit daemon he himself had summoned.

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  To Luos’ satisfaction, the daemon didn’t like this threat. It fought its bonds with some of the hawgling’s old animalistic panic. “Are you serious?” it quailed, “I’m complying! You asked and I answered!”

  Luos folded his arms. “I do not argue or haggle, daemon. I only demand. If I’m not satisfied, then I get angry.”

  “What a load of pomp!” the daemon hissed, “I would have never taken myself for such a bully. You’re blind, Luos! He’s teaching you lies! I could show you such things I had never considered before, which you still cannot-“

  The daemon’s words subsided into a flurry of groans as Luos activated Nanden’s Constrictor.

  The spells of punishment for summoned spirits required no daemon, as they were used to exact desired behavior from the daemons themselves. As spurs and rope were used to break wild ekwodillius to the saddle, wizards had their own tools for breaking daemons to their binding.

  While there was nothing outwardly indicating the Constrictor, the effect was purely spiritual, suppressing the spirit’s energy and inundating it with painful inputs. Still, the hawgling vessel heaved with labored breath, gently writhing in the summoning circle. After a few seconds, Luos ended the punishment.

  “This could be the last time this happens to you, daemon,” the boy said temptingly. “No more outbursts, no more beguiling, and no more demands from you. I know it is your nature to lie, but know that I know this and will not be fooled or misguided.” With these words, he couldn’t help himself. He glanced back at Samsian for confirmation. The old man only nodded, but it was enough.

  “You’re making a mistake,” the hawgling gasped. “You have to believe me. You don’t know the truth. I’m-… I’m not really-…”

  Luos angrily cut off the spirit’s words. “Are you not Asmod? Did you wriggle your way out of my demands for the truth when I ordered you to name yourself?” He at once activated the Constrictor again, sending the hawgling into bouts of agony for a moment, and then ended it again at once. “Are you Asmod, daemon, or do I need to banish you?”

  Luos heard a tapping coming from behind him that sounded like Samsian tapping his foot impatiently. What did the old man want of him? He was busy bending this daemon to his will.

  Once again in control, though its words and behavior were tinged with fear, the daemon stammered, “I’m Asmod, but-“

  “But what, daemon? Are you, or are you not?” Another few seconds of Constrictor were applied.

  “I am!” the creature gasped, “I am! No more. Please.”

  Luos’ mouth curled, a smile enervated by the feeling of power. “Good. I’m glad to hear it. And if that is the case, then we have a long relationship of mutual benefit before us. I bid you, daemon, be my servant, and to be my guide in the spirit realm of the machine.”

  He found the hawgling’s gaze and held it. The two stood there, with Luos’ gaze of granite and Asmod’s quivering, wet, porcine eyes.

  And then another voice boomed, the stone floor quaking and the candles flattening from the force of the voice, “Comply!” Both Luos and Asmod looked to Samsian, his arms raised and eyes ablaze, “The Order of High Administrators, the Jurors on the Five Pillars, the Circle of Occult Reason... None suffer a wild daemon! Comply, or face utter erasure! Comply!”

  Luos went pale from the shock. Not only was the sheer power in his master’s words a thing to behold, but he feared even Samsian feeling the need to intervene at all. His knees felt weak as he stared at the roaring wizard, the words shaking him to his core. He felt a slight trickle flowing down his legs. So too was there a puddle slowly growing in the hawgling’s circle.

  When silence had swept away the last reverberations of Samsian’s command, shortly it was once more disturbed. This time, it was a small shuddering voice.

  “I speak truthfully. I, Asmod the daemon, comply. I will serve Luos as guide and companion as long as he will have me. I will do as he commands lest I draw his ire, on this I solemnly swear on threat of the seven coercions, the eight admonitions, the nine perpetuities, the rite of imprisonment, and the dreaded erasure.”

  “And what of the Laws of Landuke?” Samsian intoned.

  After a moment’s thought, the hawgling continued, this time mechanically as though reading a card.

  “I will not knowingly harm or set in motion events to harm any sentient being. Excepting to the first law where commanded to do so by the one to whom I am bound or proper authority invested in a representative thereof. So similarly will I not knowingly steal or set in motions events to procure property not belonging to the one to whom I am bound. Nor will I falsify or misrepresent the truth to the same under the conditions as the first and second law.”

  Luos had no clue what the Laws of Landuke were. Much less the Order of High Administrators, the Jurors on the Five Pillars, or the Circle of Occult Reason. Luckily the daemon did. He would have to look those up later.

  When the daemon had finished its litany, Samsian grunted.

  “Boy, the daemon is now bound to you and contained.” He didn’t sound pleased. Had he messed up the binding in some way? He would have to revisit the conversation later, as it seemed Samsian was eager to leave, and needed something from Luos.

  “Break the circles, mop the floors, and put out and store these candles.”

  “Yes sir, I’ll get Asmod to-“

  Samsian rounded on him. “You will do this yourself,” he said firmly. “You’re not ready to use this daemon you so shoddily bound, and until then your chores are your own. We will see when you are ready to resume your training.”

  “But I-“

  “Another word earns you a cuff, boy, now get to it.” And with that, Samsian strode out the door.

  He waited until his master was truly gone before he let out a frustrated huff.

  “I’m used to being ordered about by now,” he said, scuffing the circle with his foot to break it, “but this mood he’s in is rude.” He bent to wipe away the rest of the circle with the hem of his robe, then moved to work on the circle the daemon was in. The hawgling silently watched him as he did.

  “What are you looking at?” he demanded. The hawgling looked away.

  “Yeah, I thought so,” he mumbled as he pulled his knife from its sheathe. “I’d order you to cut your bonds yourself, but I guess I’m not allowed to.” He held the hemp in one hand and sliced through, freeing the hawgling’s feet. Once free, it rolled off its back and got up shakily. Luos watched it as it walked tentatively about the room.

  “Don’t go far. Stay in this room with me,” Luos chided. The hawg began hopping, giving no confirmation, for some reason enraptured by its own four feet.

  Luos began the tedious task of extinguishing and collecting the hundred candles, wondering if by some terrible celestial will, he got a defective daemon.