Luos awoke and made breakfast for himself, chopping a fig and obtaining some goat cheese and honey from his uncle’s larder. If there were three pleasures in his uncle’s life, it was a finely crafted blade, fresh cheese, and sweets. Luos drizzled the chopped fig with honey and scarfed down the fruit and cheese from a wooden plate. As he did, he recalled the discussion with his uncle about making some metal ones.

  “A waste of good metal when wood grows on trees,” he had said.

  Luos hadn’t wanted to argue the semantics. No meant no.

  Asmod caught his eye as he was about to eat the final piece of cheese. The deamon hawgling was staring at him with hungry eyes. The hawgling he had bound the daemon to was cute, in an ugly way. Its tusks, only a hint of what the large teeth would become, poked out of the corners of its mouth. Its hair was not the sparse and coarse stuff of a newborn, but the fluffy down coat of a faun, camouflaged for an environment in which it would never live. If he didn’t know it was inhabited by a daemon, he’d want to pet it. But he could see it there, in the critter’s gaze. It was hungry, yes, but it was also intelligent. Luos couldn’t tell if it was visible to everyone, but he could see the daemon, almost watch the gears of the conniving spirit’s mind turn. It had only been bound recently and wasn’t used to the bondage. It was Luos’ job to teach the creature its place.

  “No,” Luos said firmly. He popped the cheese into his mouth.

  Asmod looked away, shuffling his fore-feet as if shrugging. “I didn’t want it anyway. You chew noisily.”

  “What does my schedule look like for today?” he asked, ignoring the comment. He didn’t really want to know, and he actually did remember what he had to do today. This was just to get the daemon to do something at his bidding.

  “We delivered the figs to uncle,” Asmod said, “and we’ve got more to deliver to master Samsian. There’s the chores left to do there – mucking the stall, organizing paper files, preparing food, doing the dishes, washing the floors – but there could be some things for uncle to do that we can get rolling while we’re here, so it would be good to talk with him before we leave.”

  Luos nodded. “I’m not sure what to tell him about our stop here last night. I don’t think he needs the whole truth, because I don’t want to sell our friend Dover out. Uncle might try to sell him something.”

  Asmod made a little snort at Luos referring to Dover as a friend.

  I don’t want to tell uncle that I almost got beat up by Chuff, Luos didn’t add. He didn’t want to give the daemon a reason to bring things up. “So, what story can we give him? I need ideas.” He listened for the semi-repetitive clink clank of hammer on steel coming from the forge outside. There had been a lull, and he was ready to silence Asmod in case uncle were to intrude. The hammering returned.

  The hawgling huffed, then was ready with an answer. Luos had been shocked at the inhuman speed with which the daemons worked, but Samsian had explained their capabilities to him early in his education.

  “Daemons don’t work the same way as humans,” his mentor had told him, “They mimic us, possibly as a way of lowering our guard and keep us comfortable with them, but they think faster. This makes them invaluable, but we must stay vigilant of the danger they pose to us. You can trick them, but not easily. Spare the rod, spoil the daemon, we wizards say.”

  Asmod said, “Our time in town was delayed by the boor fight. It went longer than expected, or we got interrupted with conversation. We could weave in the talk with Jean and convey the compliments to potentially distract him from the delay. If he brings up the fact we came from the forest instead of the road, we could say we were foraging for mushrooms. We were unsuccessful, obviously. And we were slowed by the figs.”

  “I could also say you slowed me down. That I needed to carry you.”

  The hawgling rolled its eyes. “Yes, I considered it, but uncle is practical. He might suggest you get rid of me.”

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  Luos shrugged, as if that would be no great loss. “When we go out there, you need to run out screaming. Do your business in the grass. Really sell the illusion.”

  “Do I have to keep up the act around uncle?” Asmod groaned.

  Luos looked at the daemon suspiciously. Another attempt to weaken his bond. “Yes you have to keep the illusion up around my uncle. He’s a sharp man, but he’s superstitious. You might not know this, but he throws things at Peezlebub. Or did when he used to come around here.” He had expected the daemon to try and cut him off or complain again, but the hawgling had clammed up. Moodily, but didn’t voice any further complaints.

  When Luos exited to the smithy, Asmod bolted with a shrill, prolonged squeal, as he had agreed.

  “Morning, uncle,” Luos said over the sounds of hawgling and his uncle’s metal hammering.

  There was a hiss of quenching as he dipped the blade into a barrel of water. He replaced the tongs he had used to pick up the weapon-in-process and wiped his hands on his apron. All of this he did before looking back at Luos.

  “Mmm,” he grunted. Luos couldn’t tell if it was an annoyed grunt or one of distraction.

  “I brought your figs from farmer Jean,” he hazarded.

  “I saw,” was all the man replied. He didn’t reach for any tools and made no attempt to continue working. He leaned on the anvil, watching Luos.

  “I can’t stay long. Master Samsian wants me back to do my chores. I’m a bit late in returning.”

  Luos had left space for a reply, which the man left unfilled. Asmod squealed again, zooming across the property.

  “I have some time, though. I could do some chores for you, if you’d like. It’s about time for your bookkeeping.”

  “I’m waiting for you to get to the part where you tell me why you were harassing a village kid in the woods last night.”

  Luos’ stomach sank.

  “You chased him into the woods, you and that –“ he pointed in the direction of the wild and crazy Asmod “- hawg of yours. You did some voodoo magic, whatever evil that Samsian character is poking into you, deforming one of the other kids, then came after Chuff.”

  “Uncle Persimon, you’ve got it all wrong-“

  He was silenced by Persimon who held up a finger. “I don’t want excuses from you, Luos. Did you or did you not use magic on Chuff and his friends?”

  Technically he hadn’t, but as far as his uncle knew, it was Luos learning magic, and Asmod didn’t exist.

  “He chased me,” Luos managed to get out, “He told me he was going to kill me!”

  “Don’t you raise your voice at me!” uncle bellowed. It triggered something primal in Luos. Not his fight response, but that of his flight response, and primal nonetheless. The boy crouched back, fearful if only for a second. Even Asmod stopped and paid attention.

  Persimon continued, no longer shouting, but frustration still tinging his words. “You probably scared him. People will defend themselves when they think they’re in danger. What I’m concerned about is that you didn’t come directly to me about it. Instead, you come skulking in from the dark. What am I supposed to think, Luos?”

  Luos, downcast, said in a small voice, “What did he tell you?”

  “It wasn’t him what told me. His father sent word to me just before you arrived. Goddammit, Luos, I knew that Samsian character was going to be no good for you!” At this last, he slapped the anvil with both hands. He didn’t use his big scary voice, only giving in to a brief venting of anger. “And now you’ve gone and pissed off the commissioner of Hill Hill. When Garret-… When your parents passed, and I took you in, I did it out of love. But I know I can’t be them, but that doesn’t mean you can disrespect me like this.”

  “But what did he tell you?” Luos repeated.

  “He said like I told you. You did something, something unnatural, and it scared his boy. He said you chased him into the forest with threats.” Persimon sighed, looked like he was going to say something else, but didn’t.

  “It didn’t happen like that,” Luos said. He rubbed his face with his hand quickly and his hand came away wet.

  “Who do you think they’re going to believe, Luos?” he put his hands on his hips. “His letter was firm, but I guess it could be taken as a warning.” He rubbed his forehead. “If I lose business over this-“

  “You don’t seem to care that I do the books for you,” Luos almost whispered.

  “What was that?”

  “You said what I did was unnatural. But you know the way I do your bookkeeping is all the same thing?”

  “Now, that’s diff-“

  “No, it’s not. You’re just scared of it when it’s real. The stuff that helps you, the stuff that you can’t see, it’s all ok. You don’t understand it, either, but you don’t have to see it.” The atmosphere of the forge was so tense Luos thought the anvil might crack.

  Persimon let out a huff. “Luos, what happened to your parents-“

  “It’s all the same stuff, and I’m not scared of it. I can master it.”

  “He was my brother, Luos. You don’t know what you’re getting into. You’re just a boy, for Zeich’s sake.”

  But Luos wasn’t listening any longer. He gestured at Asmod, who had been watching the discussion. The hawgling approached like a kicked dog. “We’re leaving for Samsian’s, Uncle.” He dipped inside the house of the smithy, coming back out with what remained of the sack of figs.

  Without another word, he and Asmod left his uncle’s house. After some time, the clink clank of the smithy resumed.