Chapter Text
King Solomon painstakingly sketched the final rune that (he hoped) would complete the summoning circle.
The instant the last two lines came together, the circle exploded in his face.
“Well, there go my eyebrows,” he sighed, as he stomped out a half-dozen fires around the room. “At least it didn't blow out a wall this time, so that's something, I guess.”
Attempt fifty-nine had taken out the wall. Sixty-four had melted a crater through the floor. Seventy-one had filled the whole palace with fumes so noxious that the whole experiment had to be put on hold for a week.
He cast an accusatory glare at his shiny new ring. “You know, having the wisdom to know what I have to do would be a lot more useful if you gave me a hint or two about how to actually do it.”
His ring had nothing to say.
“Typical,” he sighed. “Well, let's try this again. The ninety-eighth time's the charm, right?”
An hour later, he held one hand over his eyes as he completed the final rune (again), then scrambled backwards to keep from losing the rest of his hair, too.
The circle didn't explode, or melt, or start smoking.
It glowed.
Rainbow-colored light traced its way across the outlines of each rune, first one, then three, then five, then
The circle erupted in a cloud of lavender-scented rainbow smoke.
Coughing and waving the smoke away, Solomon frowned. “Oh, my. This doesn't look right either. Excuse me, Sir? Forgive me such an odd question, but… are you by any chance a demon?”
The strange man looked as confused as Solomon, and not a bit like a demon. He had no horns, no fiery tail, no tainted black wings or extra heads. He just looked like a man, dressed head to toe in the finest, murex-purple robes that were all the rage among the Phoenician elite these days.
The man blinked, blew a bit of lingering smoke off his hands, and looked around. “What on earth just happened? One minute, I'm browsing the jade auction, the next… I'm here? Where is here, exactly?” He turned to Solomon and planted a hand on his hip. “Of course I'm a demon, silly human. Could any mere mortal ever look as good as this?”
“Oh! It… it finally worked!” Solomon breathed a sigh of relief that was one wall, one floor and two eyebrows overdue, and smiled warmly. “Of course they couldn't,” he agreed, being gifted with the wisdom to know that stroking a demon's ego was the best way to keep it from tearing your spine out through your mouth. “The legends tell of only one gifted with such otherworldly beauty as I see before me, so… Ashmedai, I presume?”
“Oh, nobody calls me that anymore. Asmodeus is fine. And you are?”
“It's a pleasure to meet you, Asmodeus,” said Solomon, with a respectful bow. “I am King Solomon, son of David, ruler of the United Kingdom of Israel.”
“Well I'll be damned,” he chuckled. “I've actually heard of you. The humans speak very highly of you, King Solomon, son of David.” Asmodeus gave the king a critical once-over, then nodded his approval. “A respectable ensemble, but we're definitely going to have to do something about your hair. And your, uh… eyebrows,” he frowned. “Here, I have just the thing for-" He took two steps, then cried out in pain when the circle at his feet flashed an angry red light. “OW! What the hell was that about?!” He looked down, frowned at the smouldering circle, and carefully positioned himself back in the very centre. He pointed at the circle and glared daggers at Solomon. “And this is…?”
“A magic circle,” Solomon frowned. “It's how I summoned you.”
“Well, good for you and your fancy circle,” Asmodeus snapped. “Now let me out!”
“I'm afraid I can't do that. I need to be certain I can control you, first.”
“You? Control me?” His eyes flashed with a dangerous orange fire. “Now listen here, human; I've been very patient with all this ridiculous nonsense, but you're starting to get on my nerves. Release me at once, or I'll dissolve your mortal soul into lubricant and fuck your soulless shell of a body with it,” he growled.
“Oh… oh my… that's definitely not something I'd like to experience,” Solomon frowned. “Listen, I think we got off on the wrong foot here. It's not so much that I want to control you, per se; I just need some assurance that if I let you go, you won't kill me, or… do that other awful thing you just mentioned. That's all.”
“Well, if you're that worried about dying,” Asmo scoffed, “then maybe summoning demons isn't the best hobby for you.”
“You're certainly right about that,” Solomon sighed. “But unfortunately, I have no choice. I need to build a temple, one grand enough to house the greatest treasure mankind has ever known, and no human hand has the strength, nor the skill, to do it.”
Asmo rolled his eyes. “Then ask an angel. If you anger one of them, the most you'll have to worry about is a swift and merciful decapitation.”
“I did, actually, but… well, as it turns out, angels aren't really fond of being bossed around.”
“Neither am I,” Asmo dead-panned. “Besides, do these look like the sort of hands that would be any good at,” he shuddered at the appalling thought, “manual labour? Ugh! Just the thought of it makes my skin crawl! Do you have idea what laying even a single brick would do to my exquisite nails? Absolutely out of the question. Now send me back.”
“…Alright,” Solomon sighed. “You win. You're absolutely right; the glorious Asmodeus should be sharing his beauty with the world, not scraping mortar and cutting stone!” He even managed a nervous laugh. “I don't know what I was thinking.”
“Exactly,” Asmo purred. “Now you're getting it! So you'll break this pesky circle of yours, then?”
“Um, well, I can't break it,” he lied, “but if I don't channel any more power into it, it will fade away on its own in… oh, about an hour or so.”
“An hour?! I can't be trapped here for a whole hour! All this dust is murder on my complexion!” The irritated demon crossed his arms in a huff, looked around the bare stone room for anything that might help him escape (or murder someone) then just… sighed. “Well, this is perfect. Don't ever summon me again,” he grumbled, as he hiked up his robes, brushed as much dirt out of his tiny prison as he could, and sat on the floor. “Do you at least have any lipstick over there? Or a touch of powder? If I'm stuck here for an hour, I might as well make the most of it. And by ‘it’, of course, I mean ‘me’.”
“I'm afraid I don't,” Solomon frowned. “But I do have something for you, of course. I had it made especially for you,” he continued, as he rummaged through a dusty trunk in the corner, “to thank you for your patience, and your time. Here.” He stepped up to the edge of the circle and tossed his captive a wine skin. “I hope it's to your liking, Asmodeus.”
Asmo narrowed his eyes, even as he uncapped the skin and sniffed it. “What is it?”
“A brand new drink, distilled from the rarest and most beautiful flowers in my kingdom. They only grow in the deepest depths of a single cave, where the sun never shines – yet they grow, nonetheless. I call it ‘Demonus', in your honour.”
“Hmph. Don't think you can bribe me with a bit of cheap alcohol,” he muttered, as he took the tiniest sip. “Oh… it isn't half bad, actually. Very well. I accept your offering, human – but make no mistake,” he smiled, “I'm still going to kill you in an hour. So, until then,” he took a healthy swig, this time, “sit with me, and I'll at least do you the favour of examining that awful hair of yours.”
“It would be my honour,” Solomon beamed. “My absolute honour.”
The first skin was empty after twenty minutes, but the Wise King had come well prepared. The second was empty after an hour.
(The circle never disappeared.)
(Asmo never noticed.)
“So the only proper way – hic! – to harvest murex shells without… without sacrificing any of the – hic! – the… the pigment, is…”
The fourth skin went down all at once, and minutes later, so did Asmo.
Solomon crept across the room and dug down to the bottom of the trunk, under twelve more skins (wise or not, it was anybody’s guess how much alcohol it took to knock a demon out), and pulled out a sparkling golden shackle.
With one quiet word and a simple wave of his hand, he dismissed the lingering remnants of the magic circle, knelt beside the snoring demon, and locked the shackle around one of his ankles.
The shackle, and the Ring of Wisdom, both began to glow with a soft, golden light.
Chuckling to himself, he gently shook Asmo's shoulder. “Asmodeus. Asmodeus, wake up. It's time to get to work.”
“…Huh? Where am… Get to work on what?”
King Solomon favored his captive demon with a sly smile. “You have a temple to build.”