Speaks Devil

Davriel clapped, summoning a small, red-skinned
devil from the serving room. It trotted in, carrying a tray
that was too big for it, set precariously with a bottle of
fine Glurzer, a local vintage. The sweetly aromatic wine
tickled Davriel’s nose as he poured himself a cup.
The creature jabbered at him in the clipped local
devil tongue.
 “No,” Davriel said in reply, sipping the wine. “Not
yet.