The war room. Plain concrete walls, stiff chairs, maps spread out over several tables, a few curiously detailed figurines used to represent entire armies, and the occasional shower of plaster dust from a ceiling rocked by distant artillery fire. Tanya had been in many rooms just like this one. It was almost comfortingly familiar. No matter how many centuries passed, some things never seemed to change.
Around the room, there were many of her advisors and high-ranking subordinates: her best fighters and the leaders of her armies. But not all of them. She knew better than to provide an easy target for a decapitation strike.
Currently, Ran Va Daath was leading an army tasked with causing as much chaos and confusion to the enemy as possible. She was the Serpent Queen, savage and bestial, who happened to be Etrigan's mother. In exchange for her aid, Tanya had agreed to recognize her territory and then leave her alone, provided that she didn't torment any poor souls who didn't deserve it. Their alliance was a tentative one. Instead of giving orders that might not be obeyed, Tanya had found it prudent to point her in a particular direction and encourage her to do what came naturally. It had worked out fairly well so far. Ran Va Daath was a blunt instrument, but such things had their uses.
Tanya's largest army, led by General Hastur, was playing a more defensive role. Hastur was fanatically loyal and could be trusted to carry out her orders without question, which meant that she had come to rely on him a great deal. So far, he and the forces under his command had repelled a few probing attacks. The Triumvirate wouldn't commit to an all-out assault until they'd found a weakness they could exploit – and they seemed content to wait until a weakness presented itself to them – so Tanya had plenty of time to refine her own overall strategy, which she hoped would win her the war.
As she glanced around the room, she saw Chantinelle the succubus, who commanded a squadron of flying demons. She was was in conversation with some of the other succubi, discussing recent combat losses and what reorganization would need to take place. Her mother, Triskele the Wyrm Queen, had sided with the Triumvirate, so Tanya wasn't entirely sure she could trust her. Still it wasn't as if she'd had many other options; most demons were ambitious, conniving and deceitful, to the extent that it was difficult to find one that wasn't, so there were barely a handful she felt she could trust without reservation.
Rumour had it that one of Chantinelle's previous plans to advance herself in Hell's hierarchy had backfired, resulting in her disgrace. Apparently, she had attempted to seduce an angel and it hadn't gone well. Exactly how and why it hadn't gone well, Tanya didn't know; there were several different and mutually contradictory reports of what had happened and she wasn't curious enough to ask Chantinelle for the truth.
As Tanya passed by, the succubi saluted her one by one. She saluted them in return.
Chantinelle was one of the last to salute and didn't seem pleased to do so. Perhaps because of what she'd been through, she was different from the other succubi Tanya had met: like the rest, she was beautiful, but her beauty was harsh and unyielding. Unlike her sisters, who wore seductive smiles and come-hither glances until they'd thoroughly ensnared their prey, she was stern and no-nonsense, with an impatience she didn't bother to hide.
"Don't let me interrupt you," said Tanya, moving on.
Next, she saw Etrigan, which came as something of a surprise: he was a skilled warrior who exulted in battle and could usually be found where the fighting was fiercest, so she'd assumed he'd be with his mother's raiders.
Advancing towards him, she asked, "You're not injured, are you?"
"You've got a plan," he said, with a fanged grin. "And I'm your biggest fan. Whatever you're going to do, I want to go with you."
"If you've got something important to say, don't waste time trying to rhyme." She paused and uttered a frustrated sigh. "And now you've got me doing it."
"A display of wit. Good fun, isn't it?"
"Very well, you may accompany me on my next excursion," said Tanya. She wasn't sure why he'd assume he had a plan ready-made, but knew better than to contradict him. It was preferable that he should believe she was infallible. "You may even survive the experience."
"How generous, your Highness," he replied, still grinning.
Although he was exceedingly strong, a potent spellcaster and tough enough to survive leading from the front, she wasn't impressed by his leadership skills. In battle, he led by example, seeking out and vanquishing the most fearsome opponents, but otherwise he treated the forces under his command as if they were an audience whose job was to marvel at his accomplishments. Occasionally, he would tell them to 'charge' or 'stand fast' – or something else they were already in the process of doing – but more often he would leave them to their own devices. It would be better if she kept him close to her, she decided, where she could throw him into combat against some of her most dangerous foes and he could enjoy himself without needing to think about what anyone else was doing.
She'd heard that Etrigan had once been the ruler of Hell, but only for a day. The demon who'd relayed this to Tanya seemed to think that the most unbelievable part of the story was that he'd managed to persuade Lucifer himself to surrender without a fight. However, Tanya disagreed: she suspected just about anyone could have persuaded Lucifer to surrender if he thought it would give him even a moment's reprieve from his immortal ennui. Still, the story had confirmed to her that Etrigan was one of Hell's most formidable demons: monstrously powerful, cunning and treacherous, with a keen eye for opportunities he could take advantage of, despite the weaknesses that had resulted in his being deposed almost immediately. She was glad he was on her side, though she wondered for how long that would be the case.
As she moved on, it irritated her to see lesser demons scurrying about the place catering to the whims of Agares, Paimon and Vassago, three dukes of Hell who seemed to think that siding with her would be more fun than the alternative. Mindful of the potential security issues they could cause – because any of their lackeys could turn out to be a spy – Tanya wanted to banish them from the room, along with their overlarge entourage, which consisted of servants, flunkies and assorted hangers-on. However, the three dukes were her most influential backers, without whom she wouldn't have much of an army, so she was wary of offending them. Despite the fact that they had no interest in military matters, leading troops into battle or making themselves useful in any way whatsoever, she tolerated them because they'd placed their armies at her disposal; there were thousands of demons loyal to them who would fight for her at their behest.
They reminded her of Lucifer, the former ruler of Hell who'd chosen her to be his successor. Like him, they were bored immortals who spent their time trying to amuse themselves as best they could. She suspected they too had once been fallen angels, but there was little evidence of that now.
Agares looked like a withered old man, Vassago was pretending to be a distinguished gentleman in old-fashioned finery, and Paimon was wearing what might have been the national dress of an ancient civilisation: a sleeved cloak, high-heeled leather boots, baggy trousers gathered tightly around his ankles, a woollen felt cap and a braided beard. All three of them had chosen their own insignia, which they wore proudly and on full display, stitched into their clothing: Agares' was a man riding a crocodile and holding a hawk in his fist; Paimon's was a man wearing a crown and riding on a camel; and Vassago's was a nude woman lolling on a pile of gold coins. Privately, Tanya suspected they'd deliberately made them as ridiculous as possible and were waiting for someone to comment.
"For you, my lady," said Vassago, with affected gallantry, offering her a bouquet of red roses. This wasn't the first time he had attempted to flirt with her: on several previous occasions, he had offered her gifts and extravagant compliments. She had done nothing to encourage him, but neither had she made any particular effort to rebuff him so long as he was polite, respectful and didn't blatantly proposition her. However, when he had given her a music box operated by a tormented soul that was trapped inside it, she had proceeded to smash it to pieces in front of him while explaining exactly why she considered it to be an inappropriate gift. Since then, his gifts had been rather more blandly romantic.
"Not appropriate. Neither the time nor the place," she warned him.
"But they're so pretty. Good for morale." He gave a careless shrug, put the flowers in a vase he'd conjured out of seemingly nothing, and handed it to one of his servants who placed it in the centre of the nearest map table.
"If you really wanted her to fall in love with you, you'd have given her a new artillery piece," said Paimon with a smirk. All of his minions guffawed and slapped their thighs at this 'hilarious' joke.
"That might have worked," Tanya agreed. Hell had some fantastic artillery pieces left over from previous wars: one that erased things from existence, one that rained hellfire down upon the enemy, and some that had even more esoteric effects.
"All the ladies love cannons, so I've heard," said Agares, in the tone of one imparting a philosophical truth.
There was a pause. Tanya took the opportunity to gather her thoughts and consider who she was speaking to. In all honesty, she wasn't sure if Vassago was making a serious attempt to romance her or if it was just part of the role he was currently playing, as a way of staving off the endless boredom of his eternal life: he was a courtier and she was the queen he was playing court to. If it meant that he – and, more importantly, his army – were supporting her, she didn't mind. And sometimes it felt nice to be treated like a queen. She knew Paimon was loyal to Lucifer, which meant he had sided with her because she was his designated successor. Presumably, if Lucifer came back and said he'd changed his mind, Paimon would immediately switch sides. Agares' motives were more difficult to discern, but she suspected he would follow his friends' lead, no matter what. There was nothing and no one else he cared about.
"Can we do anything for you, Lady Tanya?" asked Vassago, tentatively, when the pause had gone on for long enough to be awkward.
"Unless you plan to take part in the next battle, I'd be obliged if you would leave the room. I have important matters to discuss with my commanders," she said. "On the other hand, if you would like to fight alongside me, you'd be most welcome."
They gazed at her with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. "As you command, we will go from here," said Paimon, tonelessly.
He sloped away. Agares went with him. Vassago delayed for long enough to give Tanya an extravagant bow before hastening to join his friends. Their followers scurried after them.
With a heavy frown on her face, Tanya watched until she was sure they had all gone. She was appalled by the three dukes, by their apathy and listlessness and lack of enthusiasm for anything but their momentary pleasures, and she wondered why they had bothered to declare their support for her if they weren't going to make any kind of effort. If they were eager to die and had joined her because they thought she was doomed, why didn't they join her in battle and deliberately throw their lives away? Moreover, if Vassago had agreed to fight alongside her, it wouldn't necessarily have improved his chances with her, but it would at least have suggested that his attempts to flirt with her were more than a hollow pretence.
It frustrated her to think of how much power and prestige they had, amassed over countless millennia, which they carelessly squandered as if it was worthless. Of all the demons in Hell, they were some of the most eminent, but that didn't seem to matter to them. They were renowned for their at-times excessive generosity, which meant that any lesser demon who caught their eye had a chance of being given immense power and elevated to the upper ranks of the demonic hierarchy. That was why they had endless numbers of minions eager to serve them, all of whom saw it as an easy path to advancement, despite the fact that the probability of any of them being the recipient of the dukes' generosity was vanishingly small. When she'd heard that, Tanya had toyed with the idea of instituting a public lottery with a prize that would have made the dukes' gifts look rather paltry. Perhaps if she'd made more of an effort to turn that idea into reality, most demons would have found it diverting enough that the Triumvirate would have been forced to delay their rebellion until later. Or it could have made matters worse, when the newly-empowered lottery winners sided with her enemies. There was no way to know what would have happened, if she'd done things differently.
Unlike most demons, Agares, Paimon and Vassago seemed to take no pleasure from cruelty, brutality or the torture of innocents. Callously indifferent they might be, but sadism had lost its savour for them. Viciousness was a vice they no longer indulged in. Their passions, loves and hatreds, fears and desires had been leeched out of them, one by one. Eternity had unmade them.
Tanya was unsure if she should be worried about the possibility that someday she would be just like them. There were many other thoughts with which she could occupy her time more fruitfully, so why waste time worrying about something that wouldn't happen for thousands of years? And yet, having lived so many lives on so many different worlds, she found it difficult to care about certain things like she used to. Things she had once fanatically opposed – Communism, for example – now elicited no reaction from her other than amused contempt and weary resignation. Eventually, she suspected she would lose the capacity to care about anything. And then Being X would have won. Or would he? By then, what would it matter?
"I should drag them outside and force them to do a few training drills," she muttered to herself. It seemed unlikely that there was anything she could do to shake the three dukes out of their malaise, but forcing them to dodge artillery fire would at least make her feel better. However, there were limits to what she could order to them do. They weren't soldiers or part of the military command structure, so they might object to being treated like raw recruits in need of a little discipline. Even an absolute ruler had to make an effort to keep their subordinates happy, or face rebellion. And she already had a rebellion to deal with. Best not start another one.
Once, she'd been a stern disciplinarian, but that had been eons ago. Since then, she'd gone soft. All too often, these days, she felt like she was just going through the motions. When this war was over, she would make a serious effort to recover what she'd lost and rebuild herself anew. A great many improvements would have to be made before she could become the boss Hell needed.
Crowley was standing by the map table, looking dapper as ever, deep in conversation with one of the demons whose job was to relay messages back and forth. Most of the time, they used communication spells, but there was a possibility that these could be intercepted by a sufficiently skilled sorcerer, so they delivered certain messages by hand. It was left as an exercise for the enemy to decide if any of these might be important and worth the effort of trying to intercept.
She waited until the conversation came to a close and messenger demon had departed before making her presence felt. "Crowley," she said, giving him a nod.
Several weeks before, he'd persuaded her to give him the kind of cushy rear echelon posting that had once been her fondest dream. His talents were many and varied, but they weren't best-suited to frontline combat, so she'd given him the role of intelligence officer. Because of his logistical skills, which had enabled him to jam every mobile phone in London for a considerable amount of time on multiple occasions, she suspected he would have made an even better quartermaster. However, demons needed very few supplies: they didn't eat or drink, they had no use for sturdy boots or spare uniforms, and only a few of them used weapons that required ammunition. So, she'd had to find something else for him to do: collating reports, sifting through data and keeping track of troop movements. Unglamorous but necessary work. He seemed to thrive on it.
"Lady Tanya," he said, giving her a perfunctory salute.
"No need for that," she replied. "Anything I should be aware of?"
Pointing to the map he'd been poring over, upon which a misshapen, vaguely humanoid figurine was standing alone, he said: "Beelzebub seems a bit exposed. Their army was mauled in previous battles and their allies are nowhere nearby. A tempting target, right? Almost as if it's deliberate."
"That's probably because it's a trap," said Tanya.
"Probably. Still, it's the sort of thing you need to know about, right?"
"Indeed." She stared hard at the map, as if by doing so she could intimidate it into divulging its hidden secrets. For want of something to do with her hands while her mind was busy, she picked up the figurine that was meant to represent Beelzebub, felt its reassuring weight and noticed that someone had gone to some trouble to paint it. "Who did this? It's quite nicely done."
"He did," said Crowley, indicating a fat, oleaginous demon with stubby wings, whose job seemed to be to fetch and carry anything that might be needed. "His name's Scumspawn."
"And why is he here?" asked Tanya, rather sharply.
"Relax. He's harmless." Crowley gave a small shrug. "Kind of pathetic, really."
Being pathetic, harmless and barely noticeable was the perfect camouflage for a spy, Tanya knew. Her suspicion deepened. "You're absolutely sure of that?"
"Yeah, of course. What do you take me for?"
"I don't expect you to be omniscient," said Tanya. "Vetting potential employees isn't one of your responsibilities, so it wouldn't surprise me if you didn't know everything about him. Nevertheless, I would hope that someone has investigated him thoroughly, just to make sure he can be trusted."
As if in answer, Crowley waved to Scumspawn and called him over. "Lady Tanya was just admiring the models you've painted," he said, by way of introduction.
"Oh yes? Do you like them?" asked Scumspawn. His eyes were wide and hopeful.
"Very good," said Tanya. "You've worked hard on them, I can tell."
"I did! But I enjoyed it!" he assured her, with breathless enthusiasm. "I live to serve!"
"I'm pleased to hear it," she said, giving him a nod. "Thank you, that will be all."
After she'd dismissed him, he walked away with a cheerful grin spread across his face. Also, his skin seemed to glisten wetly, as if it were coated in a sticky film.
"He's always been like that. For as long as anyone can remember," said Crowley.
"That doesn't mean he isn't a spy," Tanya pointed out. "Maybe he's incredibly good at hiding it."
"In that case, you should send him to spy against the enemy. They'd never see it coming," Crowley slyly suggested.
"Good idea, but I suspect it would take too long to train him."
They shared faintly amused smiles, for a few moments. Then, Tanya returned the Beelzebub figurine to where she'd found it.
"If it is a trap, I'm curious as to how it's meant to work. They would need overwhelming force to be confident of success – and I'm not sure where they'd get it from – their other armies are too far away. Even if they've prepared the terrain in advance, it won't matter: I can rearrange it at will. Unless they're hiding the equivalent of a nuclear weapon somewhere…" She paused, gave a dissatisfied 'hmm' and continued, "Ambushes rely on the element of surprise. But if I know that I'm walking into an ambush, I can get ready to fight back, strip away their cover and create some of my own, and then they'll be the ones being ambushed."
"What if they instantly teleport several of their heavy hitters to where they can attack you all at once?" asked Crowley.
"You haven't seen any evidence that they can do that, have you?" asked Tanya, frowning at him.
"If they could, I suspect we'd have lost this war already. But I thought I'd mention it as a possibility, just in case. They're obviously planning something."
"Obviously."
There was a pause while Tanya carefully considered her next move. And then all that care and consideration was tossed aside. It was time to take decisive action. "I want to spring the trap," she said. She'd have liked to believe her reasoning was sound and logical, but even as she spoke she wondered if she'd been seized by a spirit of wild recklessness.
Crowley was visibly taken aback. "Exactly what the enemy expects you to do? That seems… bold of you."
"When fighting a war, it's good to be unpredictable, to confuse your enemies and keep them guessing about what you'll do next. But if you always try to surprise them, if you never do what would normally be expected, that makes you predictable, at least to an extent," Tanya tried to explain. "It means there's at least one option your enemies know you won't take. To be truly unpredictable, sometimes you have to do exactly what people expect."
"Bluff and double bluff. If they think they've got to expect the unexpected, you'll do the opposite," said Crowley. "Sounds complicated."
"War is like that, sometimes."
He hesitated for a moment, sighed and said, "Do you think maybe you're overcomplicating things? The Triumvirate aren't exactly master strategists. And I don't think they've been fighting you for long enough to have a chance of being able to predict some of your cleverer moves."
"There is another possibility," said Tanya. "We've suspected for some time that the Triumvirate plan to turn on each other as soon as they've won this war. But what if they've decided to start a little early? Right now, Beelzebub is in a vulnerable position, with only a small army by their side. Bait for a trap, maybe. They're probably expecting reinforcements to come in the nick of time. It would be easy for them to come too late, after the battle's already been fought and Beelzebub's been defeated. And then the Triumvirate will have become a duumvirate, Azazel and the First of the Fallen can congratulate themselves on having disposed of one of their greatest rivals, and the war will go on as before."
"Except they'll have lost one of their most powerful allies for no real gain, when they've nowhere near won the war yet. Seems like a stupid plan. Why would they do that?"
"They've left Beelzebub in a seemingly vulnerable position, for what reason we have yet to discover. Bait for a trap, a mistake they've yet to notice, or a deliberate betrayal? There's only one way to find out."
"I'm sure there are plenty of ways to find out, but most of them would probably take too long." A wry smile vied with apprehension for dominance over Crowley's face. "Are you sure you're doing this for the right reasons? And not because you're eager for a big, fiery confrontation where you'll be forced to fight all of our most dangerous enemies at once?"
"I'm not a warmonger. My reasons are as logical and rational as they ever have been," said Tanya. However, even as she said it, she wondered if it was truly the case. Once, it might have been true, but demons were renowned for their ability to lie. Was she such an accomplished liar she could even lie to herself? Had she already become so bored with immortality she was willing to throw it all away for a few cheap thrills? She'd be disappointed in herself if that was the case.
"Of course they are," said Crowley. If he was rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses, she had no way of knowing. Nor did she care. He was entitled to his opinions.
A little while later, after conversing with the rest of her general staff, Tanya had formulated a plan of action: she would lead a small strike force to attack Beelzebub's seemingly isolated and poorly-defended position; Etrigan would command the reserves, who would attack the enemy reinforcements whenever they arrived; and Chantinelle would lead their air support, whose job would be to harass and confuse the enemy as much as possible. General Hastur would stay behind to lead the bulk of their forces while Ran Va Daath would continue with whatever she was doing, wherever she was. There was more to it than that, of course, but those were the salient details.
Everything was ready. Before long, she would find out if she'd made the right choice. Was she looking forward to it? She couldn't tell.