Dance of Demons (18 page)

"He envisions ill, Gord," Leda whispered as the towering demonking halted to confront them at a short distance.

"That he bodes so is certain," Gord concurred in like voice. Then he regarded Graz'zt and spoke loudly to the demon. "Put aside such thoughts, Graz'zt the Abat-dolor. The brand you so treasure would not withstand the first touch of Courflamme's edge. Neither will the thousands who skulk to either hand suffice to equal the might of Lord Gellor and Lady Leda. We have come in good faith. Let us treat so!"

Those blunt words set the demonking back on his heels. That the small man could know so much sent a chill down the tall demon's iron spine. What to do? Screening his thoughts with the aid of the Theorpart, Graz'zt sent out an urgent call for the albino. Telepathically, the demonking relayed the situation and commanded the immediate presence of Vuron. That took but a few seconds. Then he spoke as if he had been pondering the man's words. "What assurance have I that you do not plan to assault me?"

"Observe the docile brutes who follow us as if they were hounds," Gord replied, knowing he was but playing a game of Graz'zt's making. If the demon wished to gain a little time, then there was no disadvantage to the three in allowing that. It was Vuron who was being summoned. That might actually be what was needed. "Had we desired assassination, mayhem, warfare, we could well have used them and more to bring other than a nonhostile call to discuss certain prospects with you, king. As a gesture of our sincerity, we offer the dozen monsters we have in tow for your pleasure. At my behest, each will go into your menagerie docilely."

"You give oaths?"

"Of course, just as you like. Within bounds, for we are your peers." Gord relayed that clearly, standing straight as he spoke.

"No word from that traitorous imp of Eclavdra could ever— "

At that instant Vuron stepped from behind the ranks of guristhoi guards arrayed just behind Graz'zt. "Your forgiveness for the intrusion. Majesty," he intoned, pretending he had been somewhere to the rear all along. Perhaps the albino thought that would deceive Gord and his companions; possibly he came forward thus only to appease Graz'zt and allow the demonking to believe that his urgent call for Vuron's assistance had been unnecessary, because the albino was already on the way. It was impossible for Gord to tell the motive, for perhaps Vuron was unaware of just how much the champion of Balance knew about whatever transpired around him. Vuron continued, "After hearing what you have justly said, and these humans replied, I have additional details which might be useful to all concerned."

"You have my leave to speak. Steward."

"The small, gray-eyed man with the dark brows is none other than Gord, my King. It was from his hands that I accepted Unbinder as a gift to you. Leda has always been linked to him — by bonds stronger than those known to demonium, I think She came to Mezzafgraduun and served well for a considerable time. For that she might be heard. The third of these dwellers on the mundane sphere, my Liege, Is not well known to me. His aura is plainly that of a determined and strong hero, albeit one who supports the middling way and has fought against the will of the netherrealms often and with success."

"I see. , .." rumbled Graz'zt. still taking his time.

"I counsel that you make truce for a brief span of time. The parley of these three can be heard within the safe confines of your chambers, Majesty. Then decide on the course you will decree."

Graz'zt cocked an eyebrow at the albino, then stared at the three figures opposite him. "Very well. Order outlying troops to return to my palace. We here will go together into the Soul of Mezzafgraduun."

The trek to the central portion of the stratum was made in virtual silence. Graz'zt went with closed mouth, and Vuron dared not speak. The hulking guristhoi took their cue from the ebon demonking, for despite their looks and propensity, the fierce monsters were aware of their master's mood. One slip always spelled death, and Graz'zt was obviously near rage. If he restrained himself with respect to the three outlanders they escorted, then so much the worse for the demon guards should they irritate the huge monarch.

The party passed through the jungle-like park of dark foliage and brilliant fauna that surrounded the huge palace. Leda shuddered upon seeing the delicate little animals and birds that huddled into fearful immobility at the scent and sight of the troop. The so-called "sport" that Graz'zt encouraged was so sickening! That thought made her wonder why she felt any shred of responsibility regarding her office in the demonking's court, question her remaining sense of loyalty toward Vuron. After all, as steward, the pale demon was just as culpable for many of the horrors.

"What troubles you, my sweet?" Gord asked in a whisper.

"You should be able to read it clearly enough," Leda snapped back, taking out her aversion and disgust upon him. "Aren't you spying on my thoughts now?"

He looked hurt, but quickly masked the emotion with a stolid expression. "No. That would be an intrusion of . . . No." Without a further word to her, Gord turned to Gellor. "Your sense of this place, old friend — is it all as it seems?"

"You ask me?" There was actual surprise on the bard's face, for he had progressively come to think of Gord as near-omniscient. "That was stupid of me," Gellor then grumbled with self-irritation. "It is rank with violence and deep evil. Some of the more gorgeous forms of foliage are actually nasty carnivores, things with almost-minds, crazed thinking. The 'splendors' of the gardens are indeed fit for demons."

"And of falsehoods?"

"None — save the falsity of demonium itself."

"Then we face next the grand audience. Tell me, lady," Gord said, speaking again directly to the dark elven priestess, "What are we to expect once . . ." The time was soon sped past thus; the palace of the ebon demonking was at hand, and the three entered.

Because the enemy commanders were absent from the field, and with them their Theorpart, Graz'zt assembled his chief nobles in the grim audience hall. He sat alone on his dais of mirror-bright obsidian, but there were tall chairs of state for Yeenoghu, Kostchichie, Nergel, and the rest. Vuron stood behind the demonking's throne. The long chamber was ringed by demon guards. Graz'zt pointed Unbinder at the three humans who stood, small and impotentappearing before the terrible masters of the Abyss.

"You have come to surrender that relic you hold. Just as you sheepishly turned this one over to my steward, Vuron?"

There were sneers and sniggers at those words. Only a weak and stupid fool would have parted with such a prize. Their lord was letting them know that and putting the puny mortal in his place.

Gord smiled blandly and replied with a mild tone. The gift was appropriate at the time, Graz'zt," he said, carefully stressing the name without honorific. "Perhaps you have noted that Lady Leda now wields Initiator. To make things absolutely clear, she will continue to ply its energies on behalf of Balance until I request otherwise. But rest assured that we have not come here to take back the prize you hold, demon. Not now. . . ." He paused to allow the emphasis to bear its full and heavy meaning to Graz'zt and his henchmen.

The ebon demonking was grinding his fanged teeth, trembling with anger at such statements. "Then you have come to die!"

"No. We have come to offer our assurance that your demon-foes, Iuz and the witch-mother too, are in the palm of your mighty hand — should you choose."

"That is assured now," Graz'zt nearly roared, unable to keep his own counsel regarding his latest move. "I have sent for the Princess Elazalag and her warriors. She will fetch me the Eye of Deception too, and with those forces I will crush the fragrant fawns who dare to oppose me!"

Gord shook his head. "Even if all that transpires, Graz'zt, the addition of Elazalag and the Eye will but give you parity. You face a protracted war, and Iuz and Iggwilv will never cease the struggle until they are unable to carry it on."

"That will occur when I slay them with my own hands!" At that shouted proclamation, there was pandemonium in the hall as nobles and demon guards alike bellowed their approval and glee at the thought.

"I am unconvinced," Gord said loudly as soon as there was a lessening of the din. "With Theorpart opposing Theorpart, the opportunity to have your revenge is most improbable." There was a move by Kostchichie toward the three when Gord said that The guristhoi and skuda guards too made as if to attack Graz'zt was tempted, but he saw the one-eyed man's fingers touch the glittering silver of the kanteel's cords, the drow's knuckles tighten as she held the artifact ready, and the strange sword of the little man who dared to speak thus to him actually pulse as if with inner joy at the prospect of such an event.

The massive demon waved his black six-fingered hand. The lesser demons subsided, and the champion who faced him resumed speaking. "We are here to offer you the opportunity of stripping your adversaries of their ability to so oppose you."

"How?" Graz'zt asked simply, but there was ferocious sarcasm in his growled question.

"When your forces take the field against the foe again, the three of us will be there as well. You will mask our presence with Unbinder, and I will use our own powers to confuse the enemy too. With the Eye of Deception also in play, they will be uncertain as to just what is happening."

"The presence of forces such as you, the Theorpart and the rest — no veil will mask those emanations," Graz'zt said uncertainly.

"And what of the artifact held by Iuz, my King?" Vuron hissed.

Graz'zt ignored the urgent advice. He could guess well enough, but there was time for such things later. He would not let such thoughts into his mind now.

"Enough, Vuron. I will demand your words when I want them. Be silent," he admonished with a distracted tone. "Well? What of the enemy's awareness of your force?"

Gord noted the exchange and waited for the demonking's full attention. "You inquire most rightly, Graz'zt, but there is more than veiling possible. The presence of all portions of the relic is broadcast through the Abyss. It is evident everywhere in the multiverse. With effort, though, the many energies jointly commanded by us can give false readings as to the exact whereabouts of even a Theorpart. If we cooperate, the enemy will be duped into false assumptions. They will come out with all their force to do battle, and when that happens, I will be there to see they don't escape."

There was much discussion, but eventually Graz'zt silenced his counselors. Vuron was opposed, as was Palvlag. All the rest favored the plan. The demonking liked it as well. At the moment when the man was locked in combat with Iuz — or whichever of his trollops happened to be using the Theorpart — Graz'zt would intervene. It was a plan that would require the cooperation of Elazalag and the use of the Eye. Well, for the gain, he could give up a little. When the two sides were weakened and locked, then would Graz'zt strike. The whole of the eldritch relic would be his! The rest were scraps that his dogs could snarl and snap over.

"It is decided, champion of Balance. I command the whole of my demon hordes to take the field against the enemy. See that you and your . . . helpers don't fail!"

"When your forces are ready, Graz'zt, you can be certain that we three will be fully prepared," Gord said unsmilingly. "Many surprises lie in store."

Graz'zt did smile. He was quite in agreement with those last words, but he hid that concurrence most artfully.

Chapter 11

THIS WAS TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE!

"At last! The fool is actually coming forth to meet our advance!" That thought and cry of glee came from the cambion. Iuz was watching as his mother, Iggwilv, created a vIvid scene in the deep basin of the pool.

"Silence while I scry," the witch snapped. Her offspring was a trial, but she needed Iuz to further her ends, and all in all he was controllable — too much so, actually. She would have to watch that slut, Zuggtmoy, closely once the second portion of the artifact of Tharizdun was safe in their grasp. "You know, my dear Iuz," Iggwilv hastened to add sweetly, "I must concentrate so that you will have the most accurate picture of what the lumps of dung who dare oppose you are up to."

That mollified him somewhat, for what the ancient witch said was true. Being a half-demon had many advantages, but there were one or two minor drawbacks as well. Iuz couldn't properly scry — "see" what had occurred, was occurring, or would occur — even with the power of the Awakener. "I demand you show me the outcome, then," Iuz said with a sniff and a petulance that belled his bulk and demoniac visage.

"Leave your mother alone," the demon queen Zuggtmoy purred. "She is doing her best Come, let's amuse ourselves while she works." Instead of her monstrous, fungoid form, Zuggtmoy appeared as a billowy-bosomed human garbed in seductive raiment, and her suggestion was obvious.

"No! Get away! I will see all she can conjure up in the pool," Iuz said with irritation. "Time enough for such frivolity later," he added, seeing the frown on the demoness's painted face. "Lend her your assistance," he told Zuggtmoy with only a little of his usual despotic arrogance in his words. "I — we — should savor the scenes of our coming triumph."

"This troubles me," Iggwilv interjected, addressing the demoness. "The sneaking scum called Gord is here somewhere, but I am unable to pin down the location. See? the witch snapped, pointing to the abstract of planes and twinkling motes that now played above the inky stuff in the pool's recess. "There. There. And there, too! Three depictions, but two are mere phantoms, while one shows the true locale of the three and their Theorpart. Which?"

"Pish, dear Wilva," the demoness said with a wave of her hand. "You have the measure of the little man well. This time he will not manage to win," Zuggtmoy added, recalling the other time Gord had opposed them. Obmi had been lost then. That treacherous dwarf was of no consequence, but losing at all was annoying. "See there? That can't be where he and his two dupes finger. Tschyrtollkya is Kostrochie's sty. No reason to be there at all."