And it was especially exciting because this was the Millennium, the year A.D. 1000. Otto III was Holy Roman Emperor, and there was much contesting between his German followers and the Italians who supported the local candidates. The Roman nobles were regularly up in arms against Otto, and there was continual attack and rout. It wasn’t safe for a human to walk the streets after dark, and there were perils even by day. Bands of lawless mercenaries roamed the streets, and woe to man or maid who fell into their hands.
Azzie flew in just at dusk, when the sun was setting over the Adriatic, illuminating the domes and towers of Rome with brightness while the terra-cotta rooftops were already darkened with evening gloom. He flew low over the twisted streets, dipping down to take an appreciative look at the Forum and the Colosseum. Then he gained altitude again and soared to the Palatine. Here there was a very special cemetery, the Narbozzi, and this was the place where the demons, since time out of mind, had been holding their annual poker games. With luck, the game would be held here again this year.
The Narbozzi cemetery, stretching for many hectares along the undulating northern limit of the Palatine, was covered with marble sarcophagi, stone crosses, and family tombs. Azzie wandered among the Narbozzi’s overgrown grassy ways, which became clearer to him as the sun went down, for demons see better at night, it being their natural medium. The cemetery was large and he feared he might miss the location of the game altogether. He hoped not. He had his good-luck amulet, Rognir’s felixite, securely wrapped in parchment with a sign of King Solomon on it. Also in his pouch were the gemstones of Rognir’s heap, his stake for the coming game.
He hurried along, and soon the twilight had given way to full night. A horned moon appeared overhead, and Sirius the Dog Star glowed red in the heavens, a fine omen for evil. There was a sound of locusts and a throbbing of frogs from the nearby swamps. Azzie began to wonder if he had come to the wrong cemetery – Rome at this time held the world record for cemeteries of high antiquarian interest. It would take him too long to check them all out, and he didn’t even have a complete list.
He was just starting to curse himself for his lack of preparedness- he should have gotten in touch with the Supernatural Convention Committee to find the exact location of the game-when he heard a sound, reassuringly unhuman. He moved toward it, and it distinguished itself as laughter. It was coming from the east side of the Narbozzi, the side known in antiquity as “the Accursed.” As he came closer he heard oaths being sworn, and then he made out the tremendous kettledrum laughter of Newzejoth, one of the great lords among demons, the sound of whose voice was unforgettable. Swiftly he flew to the source of the sound.
The demons were camped in a little hollow between the great marble sarcophagus of Romulus and the more recent tomb of Pompey. They were in a small grove surrounded by a circle of ilex trees. Although they had been there no more than a few hours, the area already showed the signs of chaos and squalor which characterize demon gatherings. Huge vats of ichor had been brought in for refreshment. There were fires here and there, and kitchen familiars roasted people-parts of many different nations over hot charcoal.
Azzie was soon made welcome by the other demons. “Light meat or dark?” a succubus asked him. But Azzie had no time to eat, delicious though the young humans appeared to be, all golden brown from the spit.
“Where’s the game?” he asked.
“Right over there,” the succubus told him. She was an Indian demon, as Azzie could tell by the ring in her nose and the fact that her feet were turned backward. She smiled at him seductively. She was indeed beautiful, but Azzie had no time for dalliance right now, nor the appetite, because gambling fever was raging in his veins, and he hastened toward the circle.