Free The Child Eater by Rachel Pollack

demon to eat him?
    They had lost interest in him and were about to walk past—and Matyas was about to get down on his knees—when a dry, precise voice called down from above, “I will take him.”
    In one motion, the four all turned and stared up at the top of the tower. Matyas could make out a small figure in the single window. The man with the staff said, “Veil?”
    “Yes, Lukhanan. You have identified me correctly. Your studies are progressing. Now, if you can keep the boy entertained long enough for me to come and get him, he can begin to work for me.”
    “But Mistress,” Lukhanan said, and he appeared genuinely confused, “he’s filthy. He’ll steal everything the moment you go to sleep.”
    “Then I will have to stay awake. I will think of you, Lukhanan, and laughter will drive away drowsiness. Now hold him for me.”
    Matyas’ mind jammed with thoughts. A woman. What could a woman teach him? He called her “Mistress.” That’s like a Master. But maybe she’s a demon . When the gate swung open again, there was neither demon nor powerful sorceress, only a woman a little taller than Matyashimself. Her face was sharp and finely lined, with a wide mouth and narrow nose, eyes that looked very alert inside wrinkles, and gray hair pulled tightly back and held with a silver clasp. She wore a long, straight dress, as severe as a shroud, brown with gold and silver threads.
    She looked at Matyas for what felt like a very long time, while he squirmed but managed not to look away. Finally, she turned to Lukhanan and said, “There. You see?” as if she’d won some contest.
    Lukhanan rolled his eyes. “Look at him. He can’t even read.”
    Veil turned back to Matyas. “What is your name?”
    “Matyas.” He almost said “Master” but stopped himself.
    “Can you read, Matyas?”
    “No, ma’am. Mistress.”
    “Wonderful. Then you will not need to unlearn anything. Or at least not as much.” She turned and walked back through the gate, with Matyas running after her.
    When they started up the narrow stone steps, Matyas said, “I dreamed of this tower.”
    “Did you? And does it look the same?”
    “Well, I only saw it from the outside.”
    “Oh, from outside all towers look the same.”
    Matyas soon found it hard to keep up with her. After only one flight, he began to breathe heavily; after a second, his shoulders sagged and he had to pull himself up by the plain wooden banister; after a third, his legs wobbled and he didn’t know if he could continue. Veil turned and looked at him as if to say, “Tired already? What use are you if you cannot even climb a few steps?” On the fourth flight, he thought for sure he would faint, and almost begged her to stop so he could catch his breath. No. He would not give her any excuse to send him away. Or laugh at him. With all his might, he managed to keep going. Finally they came to a low wooden door, unadorned, with a simple brass handle. Matyas almost wept when Veil opened it herself, for he had no strength left even to release a latch.
    The moment they stepped inside, all Matyas’ energy returned. He could stand again, and breathe easily. Curious now, he looked around. If he’d expected to see demons in cages, or angels trapped in circles of candles, or maybe eagle feathers as souvenirs from flights above mountains, he had to settle for a simple room with wood walls, two plain, unpainted chairs and a small white rocker, a rough wood table, a small fireplace and books, books, books, some on shelves, some piled on the floor.
    Wedged in among the books were various objects, like small bells and thin gold sticks, along with various boxes and pouches, small statues of people and animals, and for some reason a lumpy black stone in a corner. A little, red wooden box, plain and faded, looking as old as Veil herself, sat all alone on a low wooden table. And that was all there was. No other furniture, and certainly no wondrous creatures. Two alcoves extended from the