Great. Perfect. I noticed Ephraim listening from a few rows over and forced a smile. “Yup.”
Professor Isserlis squinted like she wasn’t sure what to do. I could practically see the thoughts running through her mind: Humans didn’t date demons. But I was from the distant high plains, and who knew what people did there? Also, students were untrustworthy, and we could be pulling an elaborate prank or using “demon” as slang.
She decided, as so many adults did, to ignore us. “How…open. Perhaps you should discuss it on your own time. As I was saying, this differs from modern Ena-Cinnaian’s use of the construct state because instead of changing the end of a noun, we usually add a preposition. Though as you can see on page 104, this is not always the case…”
~~~
When class ended, Ihurried out, hoping to escape more questions. The breeze was cool as I crossed the Linguistics Quad. Morning glories added a splash of purple to the white marble buildings rearing against a painfully blue sky. Something felt off, though, and it took me a moment to figure out what: There were no warblers, no terns, no birds of any kind.
Eerie.
Dozens of food stalls lined the main lunch courtyard. Back home, I’d mostly eaten local food: beans and barley, artichokes and turnips, berries and mint. A few shops in Port Naborre catered to sailors from the Taro Islands, the first land you reached when sailing east—they had rich rice dishes with seafood and cold soups made from blended vegetables. Otherwise, I hadn’ttried much from beyond Ena-Cinnai. The variety of food in Talum had thrilled me: stews with spices I’d never tasted, fruits I’d never heard of. Today I bought a carton of cold sesame noodles with shredded cucumbers and carrots, then made my way toward the corner where my friends usually sat.
My attention caught on Daziel waving his arms from an otherwise empty table. Of course. The surrounding tables were also empty, but beyond those students gathered. People craned their necks and whispered. Apparently the vaunted Talumizan indifference only went so far.
“Naomi!” Daziel called, as though maybe his waving and existence had been inconspicuous. “Over here!”
I made my way over, grumpy. I could find a professor and make a fuss, ask them to help me banish him—and thereby annihilate my tale of a demon betrothed. Or…I could try to pretend in public this was normal and Dazielwasmy betrothed. Then I could banish him later. It would strengthen my ruse so completely no one would ever bother me about meeting my aunt again.
Trying to act nonchalant, I carried my noodles to Daziel’s table. I eyed the gyro he ate as I sat. He had a whole spread of food lined up: breaded mushrooms, fries, fruit salad, and a tiny cake. “How did you pay for these?”
He took a huge bite of the gyro, tzatziki smearing across his face, and gave me a wide-eyed shrug.
“You’re supposed to give them money! After you order but before you take the food.”
“Iknowhow money works,” he said haughtily. But he did peer very closely at the coins I pulled out.
Once more, I wasn’t sure whether to be amused or annoyed.But the situation was ridiculous, and the more I watched Daziel cover himself with tzatziki, the more hilarious it became. My shoulders started quaking, and then laughter burst out. I folded my arms on the table and hid my face in them, shaking with amusement.
“Are you all right?” Daziel sounded genuinely concerned.
“Who’s to say.” I couldn’t stop laughing. I’d done this to myself. No—my aunt had! No, I would blame the School of Government boys, so obsessed with meeting a member of the Sanhedrin that they’d driven me to this.
“Oh my god.”
I lifted my head at Leah’s voice. My friend stood a few feet away, her braids coiled around her head, her mouth parted.
I smiled weakly. “Hey.”
Daziel beamed at Leah. “Hello. I’m Daziel, Naomi’s betrothed.”
Leah came from one of the many silk farms lining the shores of the Lersach River, so I hoped she’d be less nervous than city folk about demons. Sure enough, she dropped down beside me without hesitating, fixing her gaze on Daziel as she pulled her lunch from her satchel. “What’s happening?”
I offered a wry smile. “I’ve made a terrible mistake. I’ve summoned a demon, and I can’t get rid of him.”
She unpacked a neat box filled with small bites and dipping sauces. “Explain.”
I tried my best. Daziel pouted as I did, which left him looking particularly boyish. His shimmer, I realized, had lessened, though not enough anyone would mistake him for human.
“What kind of demon are you?” Leah asked him.
“The best kind.” Daziel flashed her a smile full of sharp teeth.
There were between three and twelve types of demons—scholars couldn’t seem to agree. But essentially, there were (1) the mazzikin, (2) wild demons, and (3) high demons. The mazzikin were small spirits: thousands of invisible creatures up to no good, bound to make you trip or give you zits or infiltrate your bathrooms (bathrooms were always getting infested with mazzikin). I’d dealt with their symptoms plenty of times back home.
There were high demons, rare as mazzikin were numerous. They ruled over the rest and struck treaties with humans; they were said to look human, too, save more beautiful and terrifying.
Then there were wild demons. The common citizens, if you would, able to shape-shift into human form but not as well as high demons. Some were cruel, some helpful, some morally ambivalent. They were mischievous and pesky and confusing. Daziel’s black eyes and talons, the faded feather pattern on his skin, made it clear he was a wild demon—but whether he belonged to a specific type was beyond me.
