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Chapter 5: In Tongues

Tuco was nervous to speak to anyone as they got ready that morning lest they notice his change. He didn't know why at first, but he felt instinctively as though he should hide it. Surely the black color or the long tips would be easy to see when he spoke, and he found himself mumbling in the hope of concealing it. But if anyone noticed, no one said anything. Pike was quite affectionate that morning and informed him that since he'd had such a late night, if Tuco wanted to sleep in, he would cover for him, but Tuco didn't see how he could possibly sleep any later.

He made his way down the hallway to the washroom to clean and wash his face, and when he had a spare moment and it seemed like no one was looking, he sidled over to one of the mirrors and opened his mouth wide. Sure enough, his tongue was still smooth and black, and though the tips cupped together, he could easily see the separation down the middle. He tipped his head back a little, trying to see how far down his throat his tongue went, but couldn't make it out.

"What are you doing?" someone asked right behind him, and he nearly jumped out of the towel around his waist.

"Oh, I, uh, have a sssore throat," he managed hastily. "I was just trying to see."

"Oh. You want me to look?" The speaker was tall and rangy, and had extremely long arms and fingers with dark, webbed flesh, like bat wings, connected to brown-furred shoulders. Tuco had noticed him crouched upside down near the ceiling the previous day.

"Uh, no thank you. I didn't see any red."

"You went out late last night," the apprentice said. His eyes were small and dark, and fixed on Tuco intently. "With Brother Melvin, I think?"

"Yes. But... I'm not supposed to talk about it, Lord Krastor said. Sorry."

The apprentice gave him a searching look. "You returned quite late."

Tuco nodded.

"The Brothers don't come for us in the middle of the night like that..."

"I wouldn't know. I only got here two days ago. I don't suppose I would know what kind of things are supposed to happen."

"Well, you look normal enough," the apprentice said doubtfully.

"Thank you?"

Seeing that he wasn't going to get anywhere, the apprentice scowled and wandered away. Tuco slumped in relief. He was glad Lord Krastor had instructed him not to speak of the events of the ritual. They were unpleasant even to recall, but of course thinking about it made the images jump into his mind again: the dragon's parted jaws, and Brother Melvin dangling above swordlike teeth and a black... forked... tongue.

A chill surged through Tuco. His tongue. It looked the same as the one in the mouth of Sathanus. But how could that be? Had the ritual done something to him? Was he possessed in some way? He would have to tell the Brothers as soon as he could--this was too important. After his lessons, he decided, he would ask the instructor and beg to be taken to see Lord Krastor.

The tips of his tongue poked briefly between his lips and tasted the scent of the washroom: fresh linens, water, mildew, and all around him, the desire of men.

---

Breakfast was a strange affair; his new tongue moved strangely in his mouth when he ate, tending to curl around his food as he chewed. The thought of Brother Melvin being dropped into the dragon's jaws came to him again, and he wondered if Sathanus's tongue had curled around the monk like that, and briefly imagining that made him feel guilty, as though he had been responsible for that death.

He bit his tongue several times while chewing; though he had no idea where the full length of it went when retracted, it still felt too large for his mouth, and one of the two forks always seemed to be sliding between his teeth. Everything tasted different, too, though he couldn't quite understand how. It all was good, but the flavors were more complex. He could taste that the flour in the bread had been sitting in a canvas sack; he could taste the musky hint of the mice that had nibbled into it. In the grapes was the flavor of hot soil and dusty leaves and the grasshoppers that had crawled across them; though now there were autumn rains on the air, in the grapes he could taste the memory of summer.

And all around him, every time he opened his mouth, his tongue caught the flavors of desire hanging in the air around the apprentices: the yearning for the familiarity of a breakfast like back home, the wistful hope for a few hours more sleep, the hope that something interesting would happen today, yearnings for companionship, for adventure, for escape. The room was packed with desire, just waiting for the right demons to come along and answer them. Tuco wished he could help everyone.

Instead, he finished his breakfast and made his way to lessons. All around him people were talking about Brother Melvin arriving in the middle of the night, but whenever they asked Tuco what happened, he explained that he had been told not to divulge this. They began with reading lessons that morning, those who didn't know their letters splitting off from the main group of apprentices, who went to prayers. Tuco dutifully practiced writing them on his slate and then reading them aloud with the rest of the group. He worried that when they reached the letter S his tongue would hiss again, drawing everyone's attention, but it never happened. Maybe, he told himself, he was just growing accustomed to its new shape.

After reading lessons, they were rejoined by the main class and taken to one of the ritual rooms where working desks--large, heavy-looking wooden things with many drawers--had been set up for each of them, nearly two hundred in total. On each had been assembled parchment paper and a variety of vials, candles, and tinder-boxes.

Pike made sure to take a desk near Tuco's. "This will be ritual practice," he explained. "You'll go through all the steps of summoning a demon minus the actual summoning. Better to try it in a safe environment before having to do it for real." He gave Tuco a sharp look and dropped his voice to a whisper. "Though I suppose you're more versed with it than most neophytes, hmm?"

Tuco shook his head. "All he had me do was stand in a sigil and recite an incantation," he whispered back. "I didn't have to do any setup or anything like that."

"So what actually happened? You have to tell me sometime, you know."

Brother Stetmeyer's voice rang out over the classroom. "No talking! You all should be taking this deadly serious. Some of you must think yourselves old hats at this, hmm? Would someone who has performed this exercise many times care to explain why they are still here?"

A very long, very thin arm went up. It was pale, with outstretched fingers that reached nearly to the twenty-foot-high ceiling.

"Yes, Long Jeremy?"

A thin, flutey voice answered, "When summoning a demon, every time is the first time."

"That's right. Did you hear that, everyone? Every time is the first time. But what does that mean? It means," he continued, ignoring the hands that went up, "that every summoning is different. Every demon is different. They will trick you in unique ways. They will search for new weaknesses. They will all try to escape their bindings using their own particular skills. And you must never become comfortable with summoning. You must never tell yourself that you know this, that you understand how it is done. Confidence leads to sloppiness, and sloppiness leads to possession, or a trip to the Throat from which you will not return. Am I understood?"

"We're not actually going to summon a demon, are we?" Tuco whispered to Pike.

Brother Stetmeyer's gaze fixed on Tuco sternly. "You there. New boy. Did I not just instruct you not to speak? What did you say?"

Tuco felt himself turn bright red. "Nothing, sssir." He heard the hiss. His tongue tips curled briefly against his bottom lip as they slid from his mouth.

But instead of seeming angry or alarmed, a look of puzzlement passed over the Brother's face. "Didn't you? I could have sworn I heard... Ah well, never mind."

Pike peered at Tuco, his eyes narrowing.

"Now then, we will not be summoning actual demons, of course," Brother Stetmeyer continued, "as only a confirmed and sanctified Brother who has studied and trained for many years may perform such a ritual without certain damnation. But all the other parts of the rite you may be responsible for in one capacity or another, and so it is imperative that you familiarize yourselves with every aspect of the summoning. I have written your instructions on the slateboard here." He pointed to a large, black rectangle of stone on which he had outlined a series of unintelligible instructions in yellow chalk. "Those of you who cannot yet read, ask the assistance of your neighbors. Do not fear that this ritual will succeed; all summoning of demons requires either sacrifice or the force of command, and you will have neither today. Are there questions?"

Tuco had many, but he figured it would be better to ask Pike than to bother the Brother again. Pike ran down the list of instructions for him and together they began making small summoning circles on their desks. They had to start with preparing the surface, which had to be scrubbed with salt in order to scour away impurities that might leave an opening for demonic influences. Then they had to dip their hands in holy water and recite special prayers to ready their souls for an encounter with a demon. A sigil had to be drawn carefully; exact circles could be shaped using a bit of string and a center rod. Often blood was used to create the sigil, but here they were using hot red wax applied using a kind of glass needle. The sigils had many different symbols, runes, and lines which all had to be duplicated exactly. Each one, Brother Stetmeyer explained, was like a word in a very complex sentence. Just as changing or omitting one word--or even pronouncing a word incorrectly--could change the meaning of a sentence, so any change to any part of the sigil could mean that it drew the evil into it instead of keeping it out.

At intervals between each step, they were required to stop and offer up prayers to God for protection and sanctification, and then they could begin inscribing the next arc of a circle, the next letter of a rune. Tuco found the whole process interminably dull, but he supposed that was part of the trick; demons could not be avoided without patience, care, and regular prayer.

When he had finally finished, his sigil on the parchment was less than two feet in diameter, but he thought it looked accurate; he had copied every part of the example diagram perfectly. He had spilled wax twice and had to clean it from the parchment, but this was apparently normal, and a little cleansing mantra was required after each spill. After this, five candles were lit, one for each of the wounds of Amanuel, centered around the sigil. If the ritual had been crafted correctly so far, Brother Stetmeyer told them, the candle flames should burn steady and clear, without flicker.

Tuco lit his own candles and they burned with even, unwavering flames. He looked over at Pike and saw one candle wavering slightly and pointed it out. Pike thanked him and began poring over his sigil, looking for errors or interruptions.

Next, dab with holy oil in three equidistant spots outside the candles, one for each aspect of the Holy Trinity, and then the incantation. Sometimes gestures would be used, Brother Stetmeyer told them, but those were highly specific to each of the twelve Abyssal domains and would have to be studied and learned one by one in the coming days.

Tuco memorized the Raw Latin incantation after having Pike read it to him a few times, then focused, cleared his mind, sent his prayers to the Almighty God for purification and protection, and spoke the words of the ritual. Again, as with the night before, once he began speaking, the words seemed to have an inevitability to them; they poured off his tongue as though they wanted to be spoken. He feared that his tongue would slip and hiss, spoiling the incantation, but his speech was sure, and as he spoke the final words, a yellow light began to blaze through the lines of his sigil.

Surprised, he looked around to see if anyone else was getting this effect, but everyone was either hunched over their desk, still focusing, or had stood back, apparently finished. He watched the yellow light spread along the lines of his sigil until the whole thing was glowing, and then the space between the lines seemed to fall away, as if into a warm circle of fire.

Then something crawled up out of the circle, first one clawed hand, then a second, clambering up as though from a deep hole. It was very small, perhaps only four inches tall, and it looked like a rat had somehow combined with a wasp--it had four clear, insectoid wings that buzzed erratically at its back, a long, slender pink tail with a thatch of fur and a black barb at the end, chitinous antennae, two eyes like orbs of broken mirror, and a long muzzle. It stood in the circle, looking around, and then glared up at Tuco balefully, baring pointed incisors.

Tuco cast about, looking for help--he had been told this wasn't supposed to happen. "Shoo!" he told the thing, waving at it with both hands. "Go away."

The demon made a very rude gesture at him, and then, with a buzzing that sent its wings invisible, lifted clumsily up out of the circle and flew off into the corner of the room, where it crawled onto a rafter and disappeared.

Tuco put his hand up in the air immediately.

"Yes, new apprentice?" came Brother Stetmeyer's weary voice.

"Sir, what are we supposed to do if we accidentally summon a real demon?"

The room erupted into mostly quiet laughter--some apprentices had deep, bestial voices and at least one sounded like breaking crystal when he laughed.

"It is unlikely ever to happen, but should you make a terrible mistake and actually succeed at it, you should summon a Brother immediately."

"Only, my ritual actually worked, sir. Er, something came out of my sigil. It flew off over there, sir." Tuco pointed to the far rafter.

The Brother scowled, going beet-red above his bushy beard. "What is your name, apprentice?"

"Tuco, sir."

"Apprentice Tuco, this is neither the time nor the place for jokes. They are not appreciated here."

"But I'm not joking! A... a thing came out of my--"

"That is impossible. You were not given the ingredients. If you persist in this little prank, or whatever it is, I will have you remanded to the custody of Lord Krastor, where he will decide what to do with you. Is that clear?"

"But sir, I--"

"That is enough, Apprentice Tuco. I have only been this lenient with you because you are new, and because the Brothers have been made aware of your... unfortunate encounter last night." A hubbub of whispers slithered through the room at this. "But leniency goes only so far. Return to your work."

"Yes, sir," Tuco answered miserably, and stared down at his desk.

"What are you doing?" Pike whispered at him. "No one will find that funny."

"I told you, I'm not jesting! Something came out of the sigil. I swear it."

Pike stared at him a long time, then shrugged. "There are stray demons in the walls, of course. Like the one you saw in the bath. Perhaps one of them was trying to deceive you."

"Perhaps," Tuco said doubtfully.

"Don't worry about it. The Brothers are old hands at this sort of thing. They wouldn't have you practice a ritual that was dangerous."

Tuco gave him a flat look.

"I mean, not as an exercise. In a room full of other apprentices, no less."

"Well, can you hear any danger? In the walls, maybe? It went over there."

Pike raised a skeptical eyebrow and then perked his ears, focusing on the walls. "Nothing more than usual. Not that that signifies very much, you understand. Like I told you--"

"Everything here is dangerous," Tuco answered. "I know. But I wish you believed me."

The rabbit-man leaned closer and lowered his voice. "I believe you saw what you saw. But listen, you don't want anyone thinking you're summoning demons on your own. That could wind you in much trouble."

"But if it is real, should not the Brothers know of it? Supposing something happened to me last night, something that no one understands yet." Tuco's tongue suddenly felt too large for his mouth. It wanted to come out.

Again Pike's lilac eyes narrowed. "Did something happen to you?"

Tuco took a deep breath and then let his tongue push open his lips--

And heard an eardrum-scraping, raucous, horrible, soul-wrenching scream. He nearly bit through his tongue in shock. At first he thought it was Pike, but the rabbit had folded those enormous ears back and was clutching his head in both paws. The scream continued, never waning or fading. It was difficult to tell with the sound bouncing off of the stone walls and reverberating throughout the room, but it seemed to be coming from the hallway. Many of the apprentices seemed to know what was happening, and they had already begun clustering around the doorway to peer out into the wide corridor.

Tuco gave Pike a pitying look, but there was nothing he could do for the poor rabbit, so he hurried to the doorway himself, trying to see. "What is it?" he called, but no one heard him over the noise. He tugged on the armfur of an apprentice named Braxus--a large creature rather like a centaur, but with the features of a giant wolf instead. Braxus also had his ears back and appeared to be in pain. "What's happening?" Tuco shouted.

"That's one of the Gasen!" Braxus growled back through clenched fangs. "It's seen a demon."

It could only be his demon, the one he'd summoned. Tuco pushed his way slowly to the front of the crowd. It wasn't easy, but he was smaller and less oddly featured than most of the other apprentices, so he was able to wriggle his way through some of the tighter spaces. None of the apprentices had ventured beyond the threshold of the classroom, though curious heads poked out of other rooms. Tuco stumbled out into the hallway.

Rigby was there and also two Brothers, both hooded. One of them was lighting a censer and the other was hurriedly paging through an enormous, brown tome. The Gasen above them had moved; its hollow eyes were staring wide, its fanged mouth gaping with its horrible scream. It had risen from its sitting position and now hunched partway down the wall, its thick leonine arm extended and pointing toward an apprentice who was huddled against the stones.

Tuco didn't recognize the apprentice; his body had long, feathery appendages all down his sides and the rest of him from head to toe was covered in green, fleshy-looking spines. Despite his alien features, though, he looked visibly defiant.

One of the Brothers took a pouch from inside his robe, leaned down, and poured a small pile of glittering black powder onto the stones of the floor. Almost immediately, the Gasen went blessedly silent. Tuco rubbed at his ringing, aching ears and nestled back into the doorway as the enormous carved beast stretched down, its hind feet still clinging to the crossbeam, its forepaws touching the floor with the scrape of stone against stone. With a rasping sound, it began licking up the powder from the floor. Its expression had gone peaceful, almost rapturous, its hollow eyes closed into slits.

The two Brothers were talking to each other. Tuco couldn't make out what they were saying, the horrible screech still resonating in his ears, but they both pointed to the green-spined apprentice. One nodded and reached for the apprentice, who bared his teeth and spread his arms, all those feathery appendages spreading wide and waving.

An odd but sweet scent of roses drifted through the hallway, and as soon as Tuco smelled it he began to feel drowsy, a pink fog creeping through the edges of his vision, but the Brothers acted swiftly--one of them dipped his fingers in the little fonts of holy water that were found in every hallway and flicked droplets at the apprentice.

The sound came back to Tuco's ears just in time for him to hear the apprentice scream in apparent pain. Wherever the droplets hit, orange and yellow light blazed through the boy's skin--he darted down the corridor, but stopped in apprehension before passing the next Gasen, much to Tuco's relief.

The hooded monks strode down the corridor toward him. "Give it up, demon," one commanded. His voice was strange, both muffled and lisping, as though he spoke without lips. "Surrender the body you have stolen."

The apprentice bared his teeth again, and then made a rude gesture, one that Tuco had seen very, very recently. He turned toward the other Brother. "Give me another body, then," he hissed. "Give me yours. I will make you strong. Make you beautiful."

"I am already strong. I am already beautiful," the Brother said sternly. "I am as my Maker made me."

The apprentice's eyes darted from side to side, seeking a way around them that would allow him to avoid the Gasen. "Your Maker betrayed you," he snarled. "He made you weak, so you would need him. He made you flawed, so you would beg him to heal you."

"Enough of your lies, demon." The first Brother seized one wrist in his still-wet hand. The apprentice screamed again and yanked at his arm, blazing light pouring out wherever the water touched. "Exorcizo te, omnis spiritus immunde, in nomine Dei," the priest chanted in modern Latin, and as he spoke, the apprentice pulled at his arm again and again, screaming until his voice went hoarse, screaming as the light blazed out of him, until nothing came from his mouth but a rasping hiss, and then there was just the chant of the priest. "Tu autem effugare, diabole; appropinquavit enim judicium Dei." The apprentice flailed at the end of the Brother's grip again and again, and then there was a sudden snap, and he dropped to the floor, his arm twisted at a strange angle.

A creature clambered its way out of the apprentice's mouth. Tuco had seen it before, not even an hour ago; it was the rat-wasp thing that had crawled up out of his sigil. Before it could do anything, the other Brother snatched it up and plunged it into the holy font. Orange light blazed out of the water as though it opened into a furnace. There came a sound like the buzzing of a thousand flies. And then it was gone.

The two Brothers shared a weary glance and then slumped in relief.

The apprentice on the floor blinked up at them in naked confusion. He tried to speak and then coughed. "What--what happened?" he whispered, and then he winced and clutched at his broken arm. "Aaagh!"

"We'll take you to Brother Hofstaed," a Brother said. His voice was hard and angry. "And then you will have some questions to answer."

"But it wasn't his fault!" Tuco protested from the doorway. "I saw that demon in the classroom. It was already here. He didn't call it!"

"Whether it was here or not already is irrelevant," growled the strange-voiced Brother. "A demon cannot possess the unwilling. This boy let it in." He turned and stalked toward Tuco. He was a large man, and powerfully built, and his approach was like the charge of a bull; Tuco shrank backward. The man grabbed the front of his robe and bent down, and now Tuco could see inside his hood, and icy veins of terror crept through his flesh. The monk's head was entirely eyes, a mixture of them, large and small, blue, red, brown, solid black, segmented, barred like a ram's. They pulsed and throbbed beneath the hood. In the center, where his nose must once have been was a circular mouth, filled with layers of needle-like teeth, all of them curving inward. "What do you know of this demon?" the mouth hissed. Droplets of spittle sprayed into Tuco's face.

And now he could think of nothing but the screams of the exorcised apprentice, his broken arm, his flailing as the demon was wrenched from him, the terrible inquiries that surely awaited him for consorting with a creature of darkness. Several dozen eyes throbbed and rolled, seeing through him, seeing everything about him. And his tongue, his black, forked tongue, the tongue of Sathanus, filled his mouth, swelling, eager to show itself.

He tried to pull it back into his throat but there was no place for it to go; it was too long and thick to possibly fit inside him.

"Well?" the eye-headed brother demanded. "Answer me!"

His tongue tips prodded at his lips, demanding to be shown, pushing their way into the world. They would use the holy water on him. They would torture him.

He couldn't hide it any longer--his lips parted and his tongue slid out. For a brief moment he tasted the Brother's desire, desire for vengeance against the demons that had misshapen him, desire to be recognized among all others as a paragon of righteousness, to take his place among the upper echelons of demon-hunters. He was bursting with needful pride.

"Nothing," Tuco lied. "I ssswear it."

The Brother tilted his head. "I--I see," he said. "Very well, then." And he stood and headed back to the other monk. "He doesn't know anything," he said.

And the two of them returned down the corridor, dragging the groaning and shaking, but newly exorcised apprentice between them. Tuco stared after them in shock. And to think he had been about to talk to the Brothers about what had happened to him! He still felt warmly toward Lord Krastor and Brother Hofstaed, but Brother Stetmeyer had refused to believe what Tuco had seen with his own eyes. If he went to the monks now and told them of his change after the ritual, would they believe him if he claimed not to have been tempted, not to be possessed? It seemed likely that they would not, and that any hint of demonic taint in him could result in torture or expulsion. It would be better to keep what had happened to himself for now, at least until he was certain it represented a threat to him or others.

The Gasen contentedly scraped up the final grain of black powder, raised itself back into the rafters, and settled into its still and immobile form, its hollow eyes staring sightlessly once more.

---

Tuco was sprawled out on a sofa in the parlor when Pike came to him. The afternoon light was warm and soothing, and without saying a word, Pike dropped his robes away, revealing his lean, naked body. He came closer and unwrapped Tuco's own robes.

"Out here?" Tuco asked. "In front of everyone?" But the objection was a faint one; he could detect the odor of sex throughout all of the Abbey, so who would mind?

Pike crouched and planted a warm, fuzzy kiss on Tuco's mouth and Tuco kissed back eagerly, his tongue sliding against Pike's broader, pink one. No, part of his mind shouted to him, he'll notice what's happened to you! But it was a tiny part of his mind, and Pike didn't seem to notice anyway, so he ignored it. His shaft throbbed, lifting at the intimacy of the kiss and the taste of lust in the air. Pike looked down and smiled, lowering his head, his long whiskers tickling down Tuco's chest and belly as he sought out his erection.

Clambering up onto the sofa, he straddled Tuco, one knee to either side of his head, the heat of his ready tip, the scent of him right before Tuco's mouth. Tuco slid out his tongue and tasted his hot flesh with both of his tongue tips just as Pike took his erection into his own muzzle, enveloping it in wet warmth. Tuco groaned around the taste of his friend; this was a new sensation. Where before, having Pike sit atop him had been intense, firm, squeezing, this touch was softer, more delicate, yielding all the way around. He felt as though he was about to climax immediately, his whole body tensing, but then the immediate flush of sensation eased. The soft fur of Pike's belly brushed against his nose and he buried his face into it, swallowing at his cock. The taste of desire almost overwhelmed his senses. His hips began to rock of his own accord; his fingers found Pike's soft, muscled thighs and slid through the fur, gripping, tugging the rabbit's hips toward him as he suckled at his cock.

Unconsciously, as of its own, his tongue began to wrap around and around Pike's shaft, encircling it like a python constricting its prey. He knew he should stop, that Pike would surely notice this, but he couldn't help himself; it was as though his tongue were a separate entity.

"Tuco!" Pike called to him, but he ignored it; maybe if he just teased the rabbit's shaft a little more, he wouldn't care about how strange it felt. But Pike called his name again, and that was strange, because Pike's mouth still enveloped Tuco's erection, still sucked at it, constricted--

Tuco started awake. The room was dark, and he was lying in his bed. He had been dreaming. Drool ran down his chin and neck. And his aching erection was still warm and wet. And he could taste it. His tongue extended from his open mouth and had coiled around his shaft in his sleep.

"Tuco?"

He tilted his head to see Pike staring at him, eyes wide.

"Ebf map--" he began, and then remembered how to control his tongue, releasing his erection with an erotic ache of pleasure as his tongue uncoiled from it and retreated, slipping back between his jaws.

"That's a new one," Pike muttered.

"Thiss isn't what it looks like," Tuco hissed, and clamped one hand over his mouth.

"As you say," Pike answered. "But, er, what is it then? And what has happened to you? When did temptation take you?"

"It didn't!" Tuco peered into the gloom. Not everyone slept at night. "Can we go somewhere to talk?"

"It might be wise. Follow me." Pike shrugged on a robe and made for the door, his furry soles making no sound on the stone floor.

Hotfaced, Tuco clambered out of bed, still erect, still thinking, I can lick myself whenever I want. And then thinking, I can't keep from licking myself in my sleep. He pulled on his own robe and, not half so silently as Pike, followed after.

They made their way down the lit corridor to the main cloister and into the large refectory, where the Brothers took their meals. Tuco had never entered this room. It was huge, far larger than it needed to be, and dead silent but for the crackle and pop of the ever-burning torches on the walls. It was also filled with the scent of delicious food of all sorts: warm bread, sweet cocoa, spiced ham, rich cakes, buttery potatoes, things grilled and fried and baked to tantalizing perfection. There were two long tables stretched down the middle of the room and they were heaped with a feast that would have pleased royalty. It was the most sumptuous spread Tuco had ever seen, and made the apprentices' meals look paltry by comparison.

Tuco stared in amazement. No wonder Charo, the lark-winged boy, had sneered at their lunch. "Why is there all this food in the middle of the night?" His voice was small and echoed in the enormous stone room.

"Enchantment." Pike said. "The demons got the Brothers back all right for that one. Regular meal supplied endlessly, but every day they're faced with the Temptation of Food. More than one has been lost to it in here. That's why we're not supposed to enter."

Tuco's mouth watered. "I feel like I could lose myself to it now."

"Then don't think about it," Pike instructed sternly. "Tell me about that tongue of yours. What happened? I know you weren't just sucking yourself off with a devil's tongue in your sleep, so what was it?"

"That's--that's exactly what I was doing," Tuco said, a little shame-faced.

Pike rolled his eyes. "No, you weren't. I know you weren't, because you said that you--"

"Yeah, of course, but I was just surprised and scared. Look, that night of the ritual--"

"We will get to that, but first tell me what you were doing, all right?" His mouth was a hard, insistent line.

Tuco stared at him, bewildered. "But I told you, I was... in my sleep, I was dreaming that--that--anyway, I was having a nice dream, and when I woke, my tongue was curled around my erection. It... it was what it looked like."

"But you said it wasn't."

"Yes, but.. That wasn't true?"

Pike shook his head. "This doesn't make sense. None of what you're saying makes sense. You--you said that it wasn't..." He frowned, and clutched at his head. "I don't understand. It hurts when I try to understand."

And Tuco thought about what he'd said, and how the demon's changes often came with strange abilities, and how there had been that little hiss. And he thought about yesterday, when he'd hissed speaking to the Brothers, and the Brothers had got that same strange, confused look that Pike had now.

"Pike... Pike, I think my tongue might make me able to lie. Lie so well that you believe me. So well that anyone does."

The rabbit-man straightened up, and some of the fog seemed to clear from his eyes. "You mean it's magic? When you told me that before, you used magic on me? To make me believe it?"

"Not intentionally." Tuco thought back to every time he'd accidentally made that little hiss before, and every time... "I think it happens by itself. Whenever I lie."

"That would be a strange ability indeed." Pike clucked his tongue thoughtfully. "But I did notice it yesterday when you were speaking to the Brother. You made a hiss at him, like a serpent, and then it was as though he lost interest in you. I thought it odd." He took a deep breath. "Try it on me now. Something that should be impossible to believe. Tell me... the sky is purple."

"The ssky is purple."

Pike frowned. "Okay, that was a bad example. Let's go with something else. Something blatantly untrue."

Tuco stared at him again. "But... Pike... that wasn't true. The sky is... well, it's lots of colors, I suppose, but right now it's probably black. With stars in. Perhaps very dark blue."

The rabbit-man shook his head irritably. "No, I know it is usually, but you just told me that it was..." He trailed off, his ears lowering slowly. "Did it happen again?"

Tuco nodded.

"The sky isn't purple?"

"No."

"And I... believed you."

Tuco nodded again.

"That's amazing. And... a little terrifying. Do you know what you could get away with if you set your mind to it? You could--you could tell everyone that you were emperor! That they were all in love with you! That they owed you all their money!"

"I don't think it works that way," Tuco said doubtfully. "It seems like mostly it just makes people forget about the thing I lied about. Not think about it. You didn't panic about the sky being purple. You didn't say it was a terrible omen or demand more information. You simply lost interest. I suspect that happens with everyone."

"And the sky isn't purple, correct?"

"Very sure. The hiss doesn't happen except when I lie."

"Have you been lying a lot?"

"Only since the ritual," Tuco admitted, and then he told Pike everything that had happened since then: how in the middle of the night he'd grown the tongue, how it hid itself, but tried to make itself known when he felt like he was in danger, and even the dream he'd been having.

"Well, we could make that last part true," Pike said with a wink. "Although from the looks of it you won't need me anymore, not with that enormous thing. Let me see it."

Obligingly, Tuco opened his mouth and extended his long, black tongue. It undulated in the air like a serpent, the tips waving up and down. To his surprise, he could taste Pike's lust in the air. Who could be attracted to that?

"I never heard of anyone here changing without being tempted. Are you sure you didn't see a demon? Hear its thoughts tempting you?"

"Ahl'm whah."

"No hiss," Pike said with a wink. "Suppose that means you weren't lying. Very well, you might as well put that thing away before you put someone's eye out. You know what it looks like?"

Tuco licked his lips dry. "Sathanus's tongue. Just like the devil dragon that came after me during the ritual."

Pike stared at him. "What?"

Tuco cringed. He'd completely forgotten. "I wasn't supposed to tell you. I was instructed not to speak of it to anyone by Lord Krastor himself."

"Well, it's too late now. You should probably go ahead and tell me everything." When Tuco hesitated, he threw up his paws. "Oh come on, you can trust me. I won't tell anyone. And if I did, you could just--just hiss-lie to them and they'd forget all about it." He gave Tuco an earnest smile. "You have to trust someone here, pal. Especially with everything that's happened to you. Either keep Lord Krastor or one of the monks in the loop, or tell me. You can't go this alone. And I'm your friend. I swear it."

Tuco looked into his eyes. He wanted to believe him. But how could he, in a place this dangerous? Maybe there was a way. Pike trusted him because he didn't hear danger from him, didn't he?

Tuco let his tongue slip from his lips, the serpentine tips curling in the air. The scent of the food was almost overwhelming, but above it, he tasted Pike's desires. And Pike wanted... sex, but he supposed Pike always wanted sex. And he desired many other things. The spectrum of temptations radiated from him. But above all, he yearned for love and belonging. So Tuco took a deep breath, and told him everything.

His friend listened with a mixture of worry, perplexity, and horror as the story of the night in the ritual room unfolded, and at the end, clasped him in a rough if silky-furred hug. "I'm glad you told me," he said, his whiskers tickling Tuco's face, and he leaned back. "I swear to you that I will guard your secret jealously. But it troubles me that we still don't know Brother Melvin's intent for that ritual. Nor what the results of its failure were. It does sound as though he intended to sacrifice you, which is terrible. For that reason alone I understand why Lord Krastor wished you not to speak of it. I will try to learn something about what the elements of the ritual might have been suited for. Rigby has been here longer than any other apprentice, and perhaps he knows something. And you will tell me if there are any further alterations, won't you?"

Tuco nodded.

"I know you said that the devil you saw looked like Sathanus, but we can be nearly certain it was not."

"Why is that?" Tuco asked.

"Because of the Scriptures. Don't you recall? They say that once Sathanus has been released from the prison of the Abyss, he cannot be returned. That would mean..." Pike gave him a troubled stare. "It would mean if he had been let out... he would still be here."