The Crystal Mountain (23 page)

sentences, perhaps only banishment. For the half-fiend and the priest, the outcome is—”

“He is no priest,” Tauran said. “The soul of Pharaun Mizzrym, drow wizard of Menzoberranzan, occupies that body.” I’ve got to make them understand! “He did nothing against this House. They must set him free.”

“So he has claimed,” Garin replied. “But the truth of it will come out at the hearing. For now, we must assume the worst.”

The worst, Tauran thought, despair filling him. I’ve brought this on all of them. It turns my stomach to think of facing my fate, but they do not deserve this. He let his gaze drop to the floor. “So much pain I’ve caused,” he murmured.

The other angel took two steps until he was right before Tauran. “These are grave times, my friend. You are in deep trouble. The entire House is in danger of dissolving. Tell me what happened. Maybe I can help. Where is Micus? What part did you play in Mystra’s death? Help me help you.”

Tauran looked at the other angel. He understood all too well the celestial’s perspective. In another time, that might have been him standing there, in Garin’s place, pleading with someone—perhaps Aliisza—to work with him, to cooperate. But it felt so different to be on the other side, facing the recriminations. He chose his next words very carefully. “I will answer your questions, though it will make no difference. I do not regret my actions”—I don’t!—”nor those of my companions. Not because I desired any devastating outcome, not because I wished I’ll upon the House, but because I do believe, in my heart, that we were trying our best.

“Everyone is fallible, Garin. Even gods. Unfortunately, too many of us can’t see that until it’s too late. So I suspect will be

the case this time. If the House suffers as you describe, then punishing my guilt will not assuage that. The trouble runs much deeper, my friend. I understood that, even from the beginning, but no one—least of all Tyr—would listen. I fear that it is happening still. None of you will see the Tightness of my actions until it is too late.”

“Such words will not help you when it comes time to face the High Council, Tauran.”

Tauran sighed. “I never said I expected it to. I merely want to make you understand that I am content with my fate in this matter. I don’t need you to save me. I stand by my decisions to defy the council.”

Garin’s shoulders slumped. “So be it,” he said. He turned away, toward the door. When he reached it, he stopped and turned back. “You know, Micus always told him that he considered you one of the wisest, most dedicated friends he had. Thar was before, of course, but he said it often. I’m struggling now to see in you what he did. I want to, I really do. But it’s difficult.”

With that, Garin pulled the door open and departed.

Tauran sat for a long time, staring at where Garin had been. He turned his many thoughts over and over in his mind.

It was dark when they came to get him.

A rush of fear crashed into Vhok. His knees went weak enough to buckle, and he sagged. He stared at the glossy black floor before him, feeling the intense heat rising from it. He was certain the baleful creature across the room intended his death, had only to realize Vhok was there before giving the command. Or striding across the floor and delivering the death blow himself.

Stand up, you fool, he thought. Do not cower. He is just another demon.

But a balor was not just another demon, and despite the many long years the cambion had spent in the company of lesser fiends, palpable terror drained the power from his limbs as he gazed upon the fearsome being looming before him.

“Get up!” snapped his guard, yanking Vhok by the shoulder to his feet. “Do not make Lord Axithar come to you!”

The thought of displeasing the balor made Vhok convulse in fear and delivered a sudden, hidden reserve of strength into his body. The cambion scrambled up again and stumbled along, following his jailer deeper into the chamber.

As Vhok and his escort drew close, the balor turned its eyes toward him. “You,” he said. His deep voice rumbled through the chamber, making the very air vibrate with its power. “You are the one that traveled with the angel.”

Vhok swallowed once, afraid of admitting the truth, terrified of lying. He didn’t trust his voice, so he nodded.

The balor frowned. “And you have been to their plane? To the stinking heavens known as the House of the Triad?”

Vhok nodded again. “Yes,” he gasped. “I went there to deceive and steal from them.” And it was a big mistake, he thought, thinking of what he would look like, impaled within an alcove.

Lord Axithar smiled. “Good,” he said. “Tyr’s ‘glorious’ domain is in chaos. I wish to take advantage of his vulnerabilities. You will tell me all you know of the place.”

Vhok swallowed as the guard backed away and left him there to face the powerful demon alone. “Of course,” he said, struggling to regain some composure. He clasped his hands behind his back as if he were about to begin a lecture. “On what subject do you wish to know more?”

“The House,” the balor replied, snapping his whip. “The land, the fortress. I wish to know everything. You will describe it all in exacting detail.”

Ah, Vhok thought, warming to his task. Perhaps… “I know much, great lord,” he said, “as I explored much of the House personally.”

“If you are lying, I will flay every inch of your skin from your body,” Lord Axithar growled. He rook one step toward Vhok, making the floor of the chamber bounce.

Despite himself, Vhok dropped to one knee. “I would never consider crossing one of your stature, great lord,” he said, staring at the balor’s black, cloven hooves. “I wish to curry your favor in whatever way I can so that I might receive something in return. I will offer you what information I have, and I vow that it is the truth.”

The balor chuckled, and it sounded more like a deep-throated growl than anything to Vhok. He risked another glimpse up at Lord Axithar. “Already vying for power,” Axithar said. “At least you are an honest fool.”

Kaanyr winced, fearful that he had angered the beast.

The demon stroked his chin with his coiled whip and began to stroll around the chamber, pondering. The other demons in his presence scurried to keep out of the way. A dretch that did not move fast enough wound up skewered on the point of the balor’s sword. The wretched creature screamed and wriggled for a moment.

Kaanyr winced again. Sending a message? he wondered. No, he admonished. You are worth more to him alive. You can be valuable. Prove it to him.

The demon lord flicked the dretch away and turned back toward Vhok. “If I find your information to my liking, I might give you great boons,” he said. “Then again, I might choose to rip the information from your mind and not give you another thought.”

“True,” Vhok said, choosing his words carefully, “but I could prove to be such a valuable resource in other ways. It would be a waste to expend my talents so quickly.”

“A waste?” The balor growled, a sound that made Vhok’s midsection buzz. “Do you accuse me of frivolity?”

Vhok shook his head vehemently. “No, Lord Axithar. I only wish to make you aware of how useful I can be.”

“You think highly of yourself, cambion. You are dangerous.”

Vhok felt his breath grow short. He was ruining it.

Prove it to him.

With every bit of his willpower fighting to keep from turning and fleeing, Vhok gave the balor his full gaze. “Make me dangerous to your enemies, Lord,” he said. He hated how much pleading there was in the tone of his voice, but he pressed on. “Let me serve you in myriad ways.”

“What exactly is it you want for this magnanimous service?” the balor asked, turning to stroll across the chamber again. The flames writhing upon its body glowed brighter. “Tell me quickly. I grow tired of you and your game.”

“A command,” Vhok replied, hoping against hope that he was not pressing his luck too far. “Give me a command of my own and let me use it to pursue your enemies. Not just during the attack on the House, but across the multiverse.”

The balor laughed again. “Are you a general?” he asked. “You do not look like a general.”

“Where I once dwelled, I was,” Vhok said, trying to hold himself a bit straighter, even though he still knelt. “I commanded an army. I could serve you well in this way.”

The balor continued to pace, circling Vhok. The cambion could feel the fire radiating from the towering demon as he drew close. The fiend leaned his head down so that it was right next to Vhok.

“We shall see, cambion,” Axithar said in a low rumble. “For now, tell me what you know.”

Vhok began reciting anything and everything he could remember about the House of the Triad. He described the lands, the floating islands, and the Court. Lord Axithar listened attentively and asked many questions, and when the cambion did not know an answer, he admitted it. Vhok gave more than just facts, though. He offered his opinions on the weaknesses of the realm’s defenses. He described how he might attack the Court, how he would divide his forces, and what he would expect the angels to do in reaction to such an attack.

The description became a discussion. Lord Axithar debated details with Vhok, nodded when he liked what the cambion offered in the way of strategy and tactics, grimaced and stomped around the room when he did not. Vhok was careful to remain deferential, but as the hours stretched on and he grew more comfortable that the balor believed him knowledgeable, the half-fiend relaxed, became more assertive with his theories.

When he was finished, Vhok’s throat was parched, but he was certain he had satisfied Lord Axithar’s demands to prove himself worthy.

“Go,” the balor commanded at last.

Lord Axithar motioned for the ram-headed demon that had brought Vhok to come forward. “Give him guest quarters,” the balor instructed. “See that he has every comfort. Food, wine, female companionship. Do not leave him wanting for anything.” He looked at Vhok then, who was trying very hard not to grin. “Rest, prepare. You will have your command.”

Vhok bowed deeply before Lord Axithar. “I am most grateful, my lord. You will reap the rewards of this wise decision.”

The balor waved him away, and Vhok left the searing throne room, following the ram-headed demon back down the wide hallway. This time, the cambion hardly noticed the tormented beings writhing in the alcoves.

Aliisza stood, as her companions did, in the center of the semicircular chamber of the High Council. She wore a simple robe of white cloth. Though she had already been compelled through Garin and Nilsa’s divine magic to cooperate, she had been restrained with manacles that she could sense would prevent her from doing any sort of magical travel.

They remembered my trick with Kaanyr before, she thought, feeling morose.

Beside her, Kael, Pharaun, and Eirwyn stood similarly attired and restrained. The drow appeared in his true form, as he had the night before, in the enchanted garden. Aliisza had blinked when he arrived in such a state and had given him a quizzical look.

“A bit of divine intervention,” he explained with a mock whisper, “the granting of a small request.”

The only one they were waiting for was Tauran.

The chamber felt different to Aliisza. She could sense an undercurrent of chaos mingled with the officious, businesslike manner of those in attendance. Much had happened since she and her companions had departed, and little of it appeared good.

Nothing was more evident of that chaos than the absence of four of the High Council members, including the High Councilor. The bench upon the dais sat half empty. The group of solars who were in attendance looked concerned, agitated. Their behavior was much more animated than Aliisza remembered, and their pearly white faces and golden eyes wore expressions of disquiet. They constantly leaned close to one another, whispering and gesturing.

The collection of hound archons hovering around the defendants only added to the air of perturbation. Indeed, the sheer number of guards amazed Aliisza. The celestials had assigned no fewer than three guards per prisoner.

They are taking no chances, Aliisza realized. We really must have put a scare into them.

For a moment, she felt a swell of pride at having flustered the haughty angels. It was a fleeting emotion, though, overwhelmed by despair. And anger. Her sense of betrayal at the hands of the celestials had grown since her discussion with Kael and Pharaun in the garden, and she was finding that her sense of helplessness to do anything to convince the angels of their good intentions was beginning to enrage her.

Why do they have to be so damned disciplined? she

lamented. Their rigid code is going to be their downfall, and they’re taking us with them.

It didn’t help Aliisza’s mood, imagining Kaanyr somewhere distant, laughing at her.

Why did I come back? she asked herself yet again. Why did I talk myself into thinking this was a good idea?

It wasn’t a good idea, it was the only option, she told herself. It was this or die. You made your choice. Even back when you agreed to follow Tauran. You could have left all this long ago, when you first woke up in the storm dragon’s lair. So too late for regrets now, fool girl.

She heard that final comment in Kaanyr’s voice. It made her wince. Fool girl, indeed, she thought. Kaanyr was right. This place did change you.

Aliisza cast a quick, furtive glance at Kael, who stood next to her. He stared at the floor, apparently deep in thought. A frown filled his mien, and she could see his hands clench and unclench. Her heart went to him.

He’s watched so much of what he believed in crumble. He struggled so hard to embrace this life, this world. He would have done anything to serve the angels. Tried to impress them with his loyalty. Some thanks he’s received. But why does it hurt me so much? she wondered. Because they disillusioned my son.

Bastards, all of them.

On the knight’s other side, Pharaun gazed around in fascination. The drow seemed almost delighted to be there, witnessing such events.

Aliisza felt a hint of a smile cross her face, watching the wizard. So typical, she thought. No matter how dire the circumstances, he never sheds that clever glee. Does he ever feel