From the moment of his abrupt wakening, Songtsan Gampo had known what the cause was. Tenzin had said the demon was inside the fabric of the Tao, a position of great potential power. Clearly it was learning to function sooner than they’d expected, and he had not yet established himself as its god.
He waited till the phenomenon had passed. Then, without closing his eyes, he focused his mind on Tenzin Geshe and began to question him. After a minute he brought his attention back to his bedroom. The geshe’s mind had been tired and shaken. Not a good sign. Not a favorable condition, considering what they had to do now.
Nonetheless—Stepping to a gong, the emperor struck it firmly. Time, it seemed, was one luxury he didn’t have.
The demon in the Sigma Field hadn’t known what to expect. It hadn’t even known, really, what it was doing. It had expected power when, as a man, it stood beside the makeshift altar in the village and wielded the sacramental knife. Now, it seemed, it had that power. So it had flexed its muscles, in a sense, that was all. Thinking of the Great God, the mountain, it had flexed its muscles to see what would happen.
It thought of its condition much as Tenzin did: It was like an infant, in this instance a huge and mighty infant, poorly coordinated, its perceptions ill-defined, grasping its situation only vaguely and partially.
Also like an infant, it wanted what it wanted, without qualification.
Certain things it did know, automatically, as a function of its bodiless existence. Thus it had found in itself the ability to cover its thoughts—to “screen”—a development that disturbed the man who probed it. That man, the prober, would have been more disturbed if he’d known that the demon could recognize him. For Tenzin and the members of his Circle had ceased to be mere swirls in the Sigma Field. The demon not only recognized each mind, but now saw the faces and figures that accompanied the minds. Even though its new perceptions had nothing to do with electromagnetic radiation. Thus it perceived the geshe as a human would: a man of slender frame, small-boned and narrow-faced.
The demon had not yet learned, though, to find and connect with a mind whose owner was outside its field of focus. The owner must first come to it and enter that focus.
But once affixed to a consciousness within that field, the demon could follow it. Once it had followed a servant out of the gomba, and after a bit through the Great Gate and out of the Dzong to a market in Miyun. There it had lost the servant in a crowd, and for a few minutes of worry bordering on panic, had feared it couldn’t find its way back to the people of power. Where it sensed that its opportunities lay. But after a time, Tenzin had reached to probe again, and at the touch, the demon had snapped back to the House of Power as if on some giant elastic band. Or more correctly to the Sigma Field location congruent with the House of Power.
Subsequently its field of focus had been a bit larger, as if the adventure had broadened its range. And it had decided to bide its time—to wait and learn, growing in knowledge and power. Though by its impatient nature, that would be a hard decision to stay with.
Now Tenzin touched it lightly. But firmly, not tentatively; shaken though he was, the geshe knew better than to be tentative. The demon lay still, waiting, sensing that something unusual, perhaps pivotal, was about to happen. It coiled itself, so to speak, ready to withdraw further from the interface. Or to resist, or attack.
Tenzin too was wary. Adept though he was—superbly adept—he was not, in his soul, a master. In fact he was fearful. He valued and guarded his physical life more than any true master would.
The demon sensed this fear—it was not the sort of thing that screening hid—and briefly was tempted to strike and hurt. But it let be. The prober was its principal contact and teacher, and also he wasn’t sure what revenge, if any was possible to the man’s allies. None, he suspected, but lacked confidence in it.
Then there came another, unfamiliar touch! And a thought with it: “My child, I am your god come to guide you, and to make you my right arm.”
The demon focused, looked, and what it saw was human. A tall strong man, still rather young, with a shaven head, long jaw, prominent cheekbones, rich brown skin with a pink undercolor, eyes slanted beneath black tufts of eyebrow. In its way a handsome man, by the demon’s own past cultural concepts and many others. And clearly a compelling, potent man, a magician, a wielder of powers. Before the Great God had transformed him, he would have been strongly impressed by such a man. Now—Now he was the stronger! But the other ruled; he sensed that. He ruled outside, in the material world. Ruled with the help of those who sat in a circle. If he could possess such a man . . .
The demon coiled more tightly.
“Do not fear your god, my child,” the thought went on. “Open yourself to me.”
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 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 way 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, become 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.