Page 2 of Daemon Master

Adrian picked his way around the office after Seymour, doing his best not to gawk. When the watcher reached the closed door leading to the Arbiter’s office, Adrian’s stomach clenched. This might not be the heroic destiny he’d envisioned as a kid, but it had been hard enough securing this job as a nineteen-year-old with the aetheric might of someone half his age. If the Arbiter fired him, he didn’t know what he’d do.

“Are you sure this is—” he began, but Seymour cut him off with an irritable wave of his hand. He pounded on the Arbiter’s door, then barged inside without waiting for an answer. Adrian reluctantly followed.

Arbiter Janice sat behind her desk, her face wrinkled in concentration. Aether flared around her in crackling blue waves. On the floor across from her, a squat daemon with six spindly legs and a multitude of glowing eyes pulsed with its own aura.

Adrian had avoided the new arbiter since her assignment to Hillvale several months back, so he’d yet to see her daemons in action. What he gleaned with his aethersense suggested some form of mental projection—perhaps a sending technique for long-distance communication?

Seymour strode right up to the Arbiter’s desk and cleared his throat. The aether suffusing the squat daemon dissipated, followed by the Arbiter’s a few seconds later. She leaned back in her chair, her eyes flicking open. If the interruption irritated her, she didn’t show it.

“Ah, Watcher Seymour. And Catcher Adrian. I apologize for making you wait. You caught me in the middle of my weeklycheck-in with the regional office.” She glanced toward her daemon. “Whisperwind is useful for many things, but carrying on an intelligent conversation without my direct intervention isn’t one of them. How may I help you?”

So, ithadbeen a sending technique.

Satisfaction surged through Adrian. His aether might be a colossal embarrassment for someone well past puberty, but at least he could take some small comfort in his unusually perceptive aethersense. He suspected it was this knack for detecting aether that had earned him his appointment as Hillvale’s resident daemon catcher in the first place.

“Arbiter Janice.” Seymour gave the barest jerk of his head. “I’m here to report this catcher for insubordination and conduct unbefitting an employee of Serenity Corp.”

The Arbiter steepled her fingers atop her desk. “And what exactly did Catcher Adrian do to warrant such a charge?”

Seymour hesitated, and despite the growing pit in his stomach, Adrian resisted the urge to roll his eyes.Well, you see Arbiter, this catcher had the gall to talk back to me while I was humiliating him. Such impertinence!

After a moment to gather his thoughts, Seymour said, “He insulted the Watcher Division by questioning our capabilities. Our work on behalf of Serenity Corp is critical to the survival of the League, and we will not suffer insults from…from…” He glanced at Adrian, the corner of his lip curling into a sneer. “From any lessvitalpublic servants.”

Arbiter Janice nodded, her expression unreadable. “Of course, Watcher Seymour. Rest assured, I will take all necessary disciplinary action.”

That seemed to pacify the irate watcher. As Seymour turned to leave, he shot Adrian a smug smirk. Adrian didn’t dare react, bowing until the watcher slammed the office door behind him.

“I-I’m sorry, Arbiter,” he stammered, keeping his gaze down. “I swear, it’ll never happen again. Just please, don’t fire me. Without this job, I’m…”

I’m as much of a failure as Seymour and everyone else in this town already thinks I am.

The Arbiter sighed. “Look at me, Adrian.” He obeyed, forcing his gaze upward. To his surprise, he found her smiling gently at him. “I told that watcher I’d take all necessary disciplinary action, but I don’t think any is warranted today. Do you?”

“N-no, ma’am.” Was she really going to let him off that easily? “Thank you, ma’am!”

She nodded. “I know we’ve barely spoken since my appointment here, but your work thus far suggests you’re an excellent daemon catcher—which, for the record, is as important a job as any other, no matter what a certain watcher might think.”

“If you say so, ma’am.” Seymour had been right in at least one thing—the watchers were the ones out there risking their lives to preserve the League. That was why Adrian had once aspired to join them. But the Watcher Division had no use for a weakling like him. He’d never be able to stand strong against the wild daemon hordes, never live up to what his parents—

He shoved the painful thought aside, forcing his attention back on the Arbiter.

Thankfully, she didn’t seem to have noticed his distraction. She leaned back in her chair, studying him. He resisted the urge to squirm. “If you have any further disputes with Watcher Seymour, or anyone else for that matter, my office door is always open. It’s my job to look afterallSerenity Corp personnel, yourself included.”

Unless you can fix my broken aether, I think I’m beyond your help.

“Thank you, ma’am.” He hesitated, torn between his desire to escape and his fear of being rude to the most influential person in town. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No, I suppose not.” Though the Arbiter’s smile remained, her eyes adopted a commiserating cast he’d grown all too used to since his parents’ deaths. “Take care of yourself, Adrian.” He nodded mutely as she turned back to her scattered paperwork and shuffled through the stacks, muttering, “Spirits above! Am I really out of clean paper already?”

Taking that as his cue to leave, he retreated into the main atrium. Behind him, aether flashed. He looked back to see the squat daemon replaced by a vaguely humanoid one about the height of a child. It traced spindly fingers along a log propped in the corner. Strips of wood peeled loose at its touch, the material thinning into a stack of fresh paper one sheet at a time.

He watched the daemon work until the office door clicked shut, then drew in a deep breath to recenter himself as he headed toward the storeroom. Time to pick up his monthly supplies and escape before the spirits devised some other way to ruin his day.

“Can’t do it,” Quartermaster Gareth insisted, crossing his rough arms over his jutting belly. Behind him stretched the supply room, a long chamber lined with wooden boxes and metal cages. “The rest o’ this lot are already accounted for.”

Adrian strained to keep his voice level—no easy feat after his earlier run-in with Seymour. “I was supposed to receive fifteen bondstones from the latest shipment.”

The quartermaster shrugged. “Sorry. You’ll have to handle the strays with what you’ve got.”