Foreign Devils Read Online Free

intrigued look crossed Secundus’ face and Fisk sat up, quaffing the rest of his whiskey. Rubus left the tent briefly and returned – his blush now gone – carrying a small wooden box wrought with silver pellum wards and threaded with etched intaglios deep in the wood. Waiting until Rubus left the tent, Cornelius flipped the catch on the box’s lid, revealing a velvet interior containing a warded silver knife, a stoppered inkwell, a bowl with a curiously fluted mouth, a stone, and an ornate device. The device itself was small, no larger than a human skull, and resembled the filigreed daemon- light lanterns and fixtures that decorated the Cornelian . Wrought of a detailed webwork of silver, it glowed and the sense of the infernal was strong near it – the device had a sulphuric, charnel smell.
    Cornelius removed the items from the box, placing the inkwell at one corner of the parchment, the knife at another, the box itself on a third and the stone in the fourth so that the parchment remained flat on the table.
    He held the device in his hand, staring into the low light emanating from it.
    ‘This device,’ he said, placing it on the parchment, ‘is the reason for Ruman pre-eminence.’ He waved his hands toward where the legionnaires bedded down in their tents. ‘Not Hellfire guns. Not steamships and mechanized baggage trains.’
    ‘What is it?’ Fisk asked.
    ‘We call it the Quotidian, as a little joke. If you used this device every day, well, you’d be bloodless in a month. It is not a humdrum little trifle. The way I understand it, it is a sympathetic daemon device,’ Cornelius said. ‘Secundus has seen it before—’
    ‘Yes, but it is always fascinating,’ Secundus said.
    ‘It is not a secret, by any means, but it is very valuable and expensive to create.’ He looked at the thing sitting there on the desk and then his gaze returned to Fisk and his son. ‘Eventually, you both will possess similar devices. Or more than one. Indeed, the higher you rise in life, the more Quotidians you will possess. It’s rumoured that Tamberlaine himself has hundreds.’ Cornelius sat down at the desk again and lifted the knife. ‘Currently, I have five.
    ‘I don’t know how it works, truly. I leave those matters to the engineers to devise. But I’ve been told that inside of this,’ he said, looking at the device, ‘is a one of a pair of daemons that are inextricably linked.’ Cornelius looked around the tent, as if reluctant to begin. His gaze fell upon me. ‘You, dwarf. Come here.’
    Suddenly uncomfortable having a senator holding a silver knife with an infernal device in front of him, I stepped forward slowly.
    ‘You’re always loitering about? Eh? Well, this time it’s to your loss,’ he said, face becoming grim. I’ve oft remarked how Rumans – and Cornelius in particular – can swing from comical to deathly serious in a moment’s notice. And I’m eternally surprised that neither state lessens the impact of the other. ‘Put out your hand.’
    ‘My hand?’
    His jaw tightened, lips pursed.
    ‘Go on, Shoe,’ Fisk said. ‘There’s nothing for it but to do what he says.’
    I extended my hand. Quick as a mink, Cornelius slashed my palm – slashed deep, too – then snatched up the bowl and began to collect the blood pooling in my cupped hand. Rumans will always take deep and fast when offered. I’ve known that since I was a brawling little brat on my mother’s mountain.
    When the senator was satisfied there was enough of the red stuff, he unstopped the inkwell, added a measure of the ink into the still warm blood and swirled it about. When it had mixed to his satisfaction, he repositioned the Quotidian device on the parchment, unsnapped a small latch on top of it revealing a mouth to what I could only think was some sort of reservoir, and poured the unclotted mixture of blood and ink into the device. I motioned for Lupina to bring me a wrapping for my hand, and when she was slow to move, I