"Demons??" I said with complete absence of calm.
I shrank into my seat, realising everyone in the ice-cream place was staring at me. The back of the seat compressed behind me. It was made of a smooth yet plush material, and was an unsightly bright red with square flecks of silver in it. This was of little consequence, but thinking about it helped me ignore my embarrassment. "That cannot be serious," I said, forcing my voice into some semblance of moderation.
"They have some rather wild projects down in Ganayanda. This doesn't surprise me much. It isn't really all that far different from the demons used in chroma. Just not configured for launching a ball across a field, or blocking one, or tripping people. Home use is quite a big leap though. They must be seriously confident in their safety to be considering that."
I processed what Skids was saying, not quite accepting the meaning. "You... You're actually considering that I might accept this," I said, hoping dro would tell me I was wrong.
"Yeah, when you think about it, it's perfect. You settle your debt, or better, without spending much time. It should save you time overall, depending on how intensive the report writing is. And it would be a big help to you in particular."
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
"How so?"
"Well... I won't always be around to lend a hand."
"What do you... Oh." I felt my face twisting into a frown. "I don't need your help, and I definitely don't need a demon pet."
"Charity, I didn't... Look, we don't use money like your people do, but that doesn't mean everything is free. You'll need to find a way to pull your own weight as soon as possible, and you've got many disadvantages, not just your injuries. This project is a great opportunity. Don't dismiss it too quickly, alright?"
It was not at all alright, and I could not dismiss the idea of having one of those things in the same house as me quickly enough. "I need more of that peach ice-cream," I said instead, taking Skids' half-finished bowl and jabbing my spoon into it as if I was spearing a demon.
"Sure, help yourself."
"You weren't going to finish it."
"Just don't drip any on—" Skids' scryer interrupted with a whooshing sound.
I reached down to open the new message as Skids had taught me.
Skids snatched the scryer away. "Not with sticky fingers!"
"But gotta message," I said through a mouthful of ice-cream. "Wanna read."
"My scryer, my rules. Clean fingers only."
"My message!"
"And you've got my ice-cream all over your face and hands again. How about I meet you halfway and read it out to you?"
"Fine."
Skids operated the scryer while I attempted to numb my brain with cold sweetness.
"You sent me a message?" I asked, disappointed. "But how—"
"I didn't send this. I don't know what this is!"
There was one way to possibly find out. "Keep reading."
"Sounds like it's from Sente," I said, having ruled out any other possibilities. "It's good to hear that everyone else is fine. But what's he up to? How'd he get your scryer to send mail to itself? Did he sign it?"
Skids shrugged. "Maybe the hexmages have some idea how this is possible, though from what he wrote, hall might not. Maybe Arbel He will have some idea. But yeah, it's signed.
My reaction to that was probably audible on the surface. Maybe even in the Great Maker's home above the clouds. "Baduk???"
End of Book 1
Choose a pet
