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The demon opened itself just a little, setting its trap. It felt the man’s psyche prod gently, seeking to enter his mind. To enter, and with the help of those others, to possess and rule him.
“Give yourself to me,” the man whispered, “and I shall give you power and joy such that …”
For just a moment the demon felt itself lured, but not fooled. Instead it struck like a moray, grasped the reaching prodding mind and “heard” it “scream.’ Subdue! was the demon’s thought, its purpose. Hold, overcome, subdue! Subordinate and control!
But the man did not collapse or submit. For a long minute they struggled, the others pouring power into the desperate man who had called himself God. Against their combined power, the demon could not hold him; not yet. For though its access to power was potentially greater, it knew too little how to use it.
Then the demon subsided, leaving its near-victim reeling, physically and psychically. And in the instant of letting go, saw the Sanctuary as if with 360 degree vision, saw people, furnishings—all of it. There was one in that room who, even in that brief flash, imprinted on the demon’s mind, and for a minute afterward it examined the imprint. The being was an ogre, taller by far than any of the men there, manlike but not human, with close red fur. It wore a breast plate, and carried a sword that surely few men could even raise. Also the demon sensed far more than human strength there.
Beyond that—Beyond that there was something vulnerable about it.
The demon lay back now, his attention totally on the swirl that was the ogre. It left with the man he’d wrestled and nearly subdued, and in the Sigma Field, the demon followed them, staying as far from the interface, the boundary, as it could and yet follow.
How to gain access to the red-furred creature? At length and cautiously, the demon approached the interface again, closely enough to look. It saw a bedroom, large and luxurious; the man’s. Clearly he was a great
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king. Just now, three attendants fussed over him, and by the door the red-furred ogre stood guard.
The demon subsided, and lay in wait until the ogre left, replaced by another.
Again he followed it. It showed no awareness that he was there, thus the demon stayed close enough to watch it visually. The ogre went to a barracks where others like it slept on thick, grass-filled tickings on the floor. There, after relieving itself in an adjacent latrine, and washing, it lay down to sleep.
Carefully the demon probed it in its sleep, it and some of its fellows. Before he subsided again, he knew considerable about it. It was called Maamo, and thought of itself that way. Maamo was more and different than his fellows, in a wav the demon did not understand. There was no doubt that Maamo was dominant, not just because of size, strength, and intelligence, but for some deeper reason.
Throughout the night, as Maamo slept, the demon probed, exploring ever more deeply, absorbing a sense of the creature’s mind and body in as much detail as it could.
He learned too that Maamo was like the emperor’s dog: he had his trust. At times, to strengthen the bond between them, the emperor had even entered Maamo’s mind to caress his pleasure center, as a man might pet his hound.
Also, Maamo—indeed all the Yeti Guard—had had a command of loyalty installed, loyalty to the emperor. The demon was familiar with posthypnotic commands; as a human he’d used them. His Christian tribe had never entirely given up shamanism and its knowledge. And he had no doubt that, given the power of his present position, he could remove or override that loyalty command.
Perhaps, the demon thought, it would not need to wait long. As a man, patience had been difficult for it. It still was. Action was its natural mode. Perhaps through Maamo it could still capture the great king’s mind, be-
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come his mind, and through him rule, until it had mastered its own, greater resources and mode.
Meanwhile it seemed there was danger in where he was, and that danger was the circle of wizards and the one who led them. Indeed, so far as he could see, the circle was the only threat he faced, the only hindrance. Without its help, the great king dare not wrestle him again. Therefore he’d have to destroy the Circle, and there too it seemed that Maamo could be his tool. Maamo and his furry brethren if necessary.