Marquis

This marquis of the Ars Goetia procures feuds between friends and then reconciles the quarrels he started, which is the whole of his office and runs in both directions at once. He comes as a flame-vomiting wolf with a serpent's tail, or else as a man with a raven's head.

Marked in the Goetia as dangerous to the operator himself, which almost nothing else in the book is: handle him carelessly, the text says, and he will kill the man who called him along with his assistants. He arrives raven-headed on a black wolf with a drawn sword.

Teaches geometry and every kind of measurement exactly, makes men subtle in astronomy, and turns them into birds. He announces himself as a peacock making a great deal of noise, and is ranked marquis in the Ars Goetia.

Given a territory rather than a subject: the Goetia has him ruling every spirit in Africa. He also teaches grammar, logic and rhetoric, finds lost and hidden treasure, and makes men valiant in war.

Appears first as a star inside a pentacle. His office is birds — their virtues and those of precious stones, and the trick of making them fly before the operator and stay, singing and drinking exactly as real ones do.

His gifts are entirely social: languages, rhetoric, a good reputation, and the affection of enemies as readily as friends. The Ars Goetia makes this marquis a great sea-monster, which fits none of it.

An archer dressed in green with bow and quiver, ranked marquis among the demons of the Ars Goetia, who starts battles and contests. He is also given one precise and nasty speciality: making wounds from arrows go septic.

The Goetia records something of him that it records of nobody else: he told Solomon he hoped to return to the seventh throne after twelve hundred years. Otherwise he is a fire-breathing wolf turned man, a strong fighter, and a truthful answerer.

His work is the restoration of standing — he makes men eloquent and gives back the honours and offices a man has lost. Among the demons of the Ars Goetia he is one of the least alarming to look at: a black crane fluttering about the circle, speaking hoarsely.

Teaches the virtues of the stars and the mansions of the planets — the most explicitly astrological brief in the seventy-two. He rides with a great hissing serpent in each hand, lion-shaped with a serpent's tail.

Arrives as a phoenix singing sweetly in a child's voice, which the Ars Goetia expressly warns the operator not to heed. Past the singing he is a marvellous poet, willing in obedience, and sound on every science.

Fortifies what Vepar sinks — high towers, castles and cities, furnished with armour — and inflicts the same worm-filled sores, over days rather than in three. He rides a pale horse as an armed soldier with a lion's head.

Asked about the souls of those who died in sin, he gives an account of them — an office no other spirit in the seventy-two is given. He arrives as a small horse or donkey, and becomes a man if the operator asks.

Strips sight, hearing and understanding from whoever he is set upon. The Goetia calls him a great deceiver who lies outside the triangle, and gives him one of its strangest promises: money taken from a king's house comes back after twelve hundred years.