The Rite (21 page)

Still hard-pressed, the faerie dragon then summoned two gigantic owls. Each bird shimmered out of empty air, swooped, and drove its talons into an abishai.

Taegan had learned that Jivex could only call such allies to his aid about once in every lunar cycle. Thus, it was a weapon to hold in reserve for moments of dire need. That moment surely was at hand.

The owls only survived for a few heartbeats, but acquitted themselves well before the abishais killed them, and by taking some of the pressure off Taegan, enabled him to soar above the roof of the Zhents’ mansion.

He caught an updraft that carried him higher, forcing the remaining devils to follow. Then, without warning, he dived, spitted a black abishai through the chest, yanked his blade free, and veered, dodging a red’s blazing stinger. He wheeled and hacked off one of the devil’s wings. It plummeted.

He killed two more baatezu. Somehow Jivex sent one hurtling down as well, to impale itself on the pointed apex of one of the corner turrets, where it whimpered and writhed for a second before going limp. Taegan peered about, seeking the next foe, and realized he and the faerie dragon had accounted for them all.

Then the vitality flowed out of Taegan all at once, and his wounds ached. Exhausted, he lit on the rooftop and sat there gasping. Jivex landed beside him.

“Did you see how brilliantly I fought?” the faerie dragon asked.

Taegan grinned and replied, “Like Torm the True himself. Still, we were lucky.”

Jivex sniffed. “Speak for yourself. What now?”

“Give me a moment to catch my breath, slave driver.” He struggled to think despite his weariness. “I don’t see how we can catch the chasme now. Rilitar may want to examine the dead devils, if the corpses don’t just melt away. I want to talk to the folk who live in this mansion. But both those things will keep. Right now, let’s return to the House of the Moon. We could both benefit from a priestess’s healing touch.” He smiled. “Especially if she’s as comely as Sureene Aumratha.”

Taking their time, conserving what remained of their strength, they flew back to the temple. Though the chasme had escaped him once again, Taegan tried not to feel frustrated. He’d wanted the traitor to make another move, and the whoreson had. It was possible the cultist was going to suffer for it. But even if that was so, whatever sense of satisfaction Taegan might otherwise have evoked within himself died stillborn when he heard the sounds of lamentation rising from the temple.

He peered through the window into the music room, where Baerimel sobbed. Jannatha held her in her arms and did her best to comfort her, even though, to judge from her anguished expression, the older sister was equally grief-stricken herself. Covered with an ivory-colored cloak, the cause of their pain still lay where she’d fallen. Sinylla had perished of her wounds.

6 Kythorn, the Year of Rogue Dragons

Yagoth hesitated to hit Pavel too often. Ogres were simply too strong, and humans, too fragile. He didn’t want to kill the sun priest prematurely.

What he could do was jerk Pavel up off his chair and give him a good shaking. That was enough to rattle the cleric’s bones, jab pain through his battered body, and presumably, keep him from meditating. Accordingly, Yagoth performed the petty torture every couple minutes, enjoying the way his captive gasped and cried out, until another ogre appeared in the library doorway and gave him a nod, to indicate that the sun had risen completely above the hills to the east.

Every priest petitioned his god for spells at a particular hour sacred to the deity. Naturally, the Morninglord communed with his servants at dawn. Stop a sun priest from making contact with

Lathander at that time, and you denied him the chance to renew his magic.

Yagoth had likewise taken other measures to render Pavel helpless. He’d confiscated the human’s armor and weapons, including the enchanted mace he carried tucked in his own kilt. He’d tethered one of Pavel’s ankles to his chair. His best trick, though, had been to break the sun priest’s leg, splint it crooked, then use one of the few healing spells Vaprak granted him to fuse it in place that way. Pavel couldn’t possibly run with it bent and twisted as it was. He’d be lucky to hobble.

“Work,” Yagoth growled. “Find something useful, and I’ll give you food and water.”

• Pavel sighed. “I already discovered what Sammaster learned here, and shared it with you, too.”

“That’s useless.”

“I explained from the start, the pieces of the puzzle are scattered across Faerűn. We never expected to find the entire secret here, just a portion of it. But if you let me take it back to Thentia. .”

“You’ll profit, and I’ll gain nothing.”

Pavel’s face tightened with pain, perhaps a sudden twinge from the scabby cut and purple bruise on his forehead. “No one will profit, or rather, the whole world will. Stopping the Rage will benefit everyone, ogres included.”

Yagoth grumbled, “Even if you’re telling the truth, that isn’t good enough.”

‘Preserving all Faerűn from devastation and tyranny ‘isn’t good enough?’ That’s insane.”

“Thar was a mighty kingdom once. It’s my destiny to restore and rule it, as great Vorbyx did. Vaprak has given me signs. He guided me to a place of power, and gave me the tools—you and your dead halfling friend—to find and understand the lore the ancients left here. Now you’re going to read every tablet, every parchment. Read until your eyes bleed. Read until you can teach me how to enslave dragons, or give me some other secret to win my throne.”

“What if there’s nothing here that will serve?”

“There is.”

“Just suppose there isn’t. At the end, if I’ve done my best, will you set me free, to return to Thentia and help end the Rage?”

“No. If I can’t have what I want, then let the whole world go down in blood and ruin. What do I care?” Yagoth leered. “But if you help me, you can go free.”

He doubted Pavel believed him, but perhaps the human wanted to. It had been Yagoth’s experience that captives who were suffering and desperate would sometimes seize and cling to any hope, no matter how absurd. In any case, it did no harm to try to motivate the sun priest by whatever ploy came to mind.

“You already rule your tribe,” Pavel said. “If you want to wind up with even that many subjects, release me now, before another dragon flight happens along and massacres them.”

Yagoth scowled, picked up a stack of tablets, and dumped them clattering on the table in front of the human.

“Read,” said the ogre. “Read or go thirsty, and starve. Look for mention of a blue dragon.”

“There won’t be one. I realize the blue wyrm seemed like a portent to you, but it wasn’t. It was just one more drake wandering far from its normal habitat under the influence of the frenzy.”

Yagoth smacked Pavel with the back of his hand. The human flew from his chair. Since Yagoth had tethered him to the seat, the length of rawhide jerked it over, too, to bang against the floor.

Alarmed, the ogre stooped to peer at his prisoner. He hadn’t meant to strike Pavel. He’d simply gotten tired of listening to the human argue, until finally his patience snapped. But if he’d killed the wretch… .

Pavel groaned and rolled onto his side. Yagoth heaved a sigh of relief.

The carved and polished wooden amulet floated at the center of the pentacle chalked on the floor, and Rilitar prowled around it, peering, muttering under his breath, and periodically making a sinuous mystic pass. Each such gesture briefly produced a pattern of multicolored light, hanging in empty air like a chart on a wall.

Taegan watched intently, eager to hear what Rilitar would say. The avariel had worn the pendant under his clothing for some time. According to the elf wizard, the talisman was somewhat akin to a magic mirror capable of catching and holding the reflection of the first demon, devil, or elemental spirit that approached it. Except that the amulet didn’t register an actual image, but rather, truths Concerning the entity’s essential nature. Or something like that.

His iridescent hide still singed and raw in a couple spots, Jivex crouched on a tabletop, among a mortar, pestle, alembic, and jars of powder, iron filings, mushroom caps, and dried leaves. At first, possibly enjoying the displays of colored light, he’d watched Rilitar work with considerable interest. But half an hour later, his serpentine tail switched restlessly, threatening to send a piece of glassware or crockery flying with every flick.

Finally Rilitar plucked the amulet from the air, recited a rhyme, and broke the border of the pentacle with a scuff of his toe. Taegan could tell from the magician’s scowl that his report would be less than satisfactory.

“Is there nothing?” the avariel asked.

“Well,” Rilitar said, “I wouldn’t say ‘nothing,’ but we don’t have what I hoped we’d get. Normally, if a wizard repeatedly used a chasme as his conjured agent, the demon would bear… well, call it his arcane brand. But if it was there, the charm couldn’t read it.”

“So what does that mean?” Jivex asked.

Rilitar shrugged and said, “I don’t know. Perhaps the chasme’s master erased his signature. I don’t know a spell to do that, but maybe he does.”

Taegan smiled wryly. “All this ambiguity makes my head ache. I much prefer thinking about fencing, where one has only so many ways to stick or cut a man, and he, only so many means of defense.”

“Whereas,” Rilitar said, “in wizardry, the possibilities are almost limitless. That’s what makes the Art so beautiful, so magnificent, but it poses problems when you’re trying to solve a magical puzzle.”

“Did the amulet reveal anything else?”

“Yes, but I don’t entirely know what it means.”

Jivex snorted. “What else is new?”

Rilitar chuckled at the gibe. “If it’s any consolation, friend dragon, much as my lack of insight vexes you, it’s a greater frustration to me, because it wounds my conceit. But be that as it may, the chasme’s aura differs from that of any tanar’ri I’ve ever encountered. That’s why wards don’t hold it at bay, and banishments don’t drive it from our plane of existence. The spells don’t recognize it for what it is.”

“That raises a question,” Taegan said. “If Sammaster’s minion can mask a fiend’s essential nature, why not use the same trick on the abishais? He could have sent all his conjured assassins romping through the House of the Moon, the clerics’ protections notwithstanding.”

“Well, he did use the abishais to set up an ambuscade for you and Jivex, in case you appeared to interfere in his plans.”

“But that was just a secondary ploy. His primary objective was to murder Sinylla, and she was a formidable spellcaster. He would have been more assured of making the kill if he’d sent all his servants after her, and really, just as likely to eliminate the dragon and me if we turned up. The point of luring us into the merchants’ garden was to limit our ability to maneuver, but being inside the temple was even more confining. No, I think he failed to disguise the abishais’ natures because he couldn’t. For some reason, he can only work that trick with the chasme.” He hesitated, then grinned ruefully. “A discovery that ought to lead us triumphantly on to infer the traitor’s identity, except that it doesn’t seem to be happening.”

“No,” Rilitar said, “it doesn’t. We have an abundance of curious facts, but no idea what they mean. Perhaps we should go question the Zhents.”

When they exited the wizard’s house, the morning sky was clear, and the air, warm. Crying and singing their wares, vendors pushed carts of marigolds and peonies and glistening perch, trout, and mackerel, through the streets. As Jivex flitted about, the latter kept attracting his interest, and soon he swooped and snatched a fish. Taegan had expected no less, and already carried a coin in his hand to appease the outraged seller.

Afterward, he said to Rilitar: “I feel we’re close. The answer is before us. We just haven’t spotted it yet. We will, though.” “But not in time to help Sinylla.”

Taegan felt a pang of sadness and anger, the latter emotion directed less at the chasme or its faceless master than at his own inadequacies.

“No, not in time for that,” the avariel said. “We came so close to saving her! If only a healer had reached her a little sooner, I believe she would have pulled through. But if only’ does no good. The truth is, I failed the poor lass, after more or less guaranteeing that everyone would be all right.”

“You mustn’t. blame yourself. Knowing the risks, she chose to fight this fight. I’ll miss her, though. She was a true prodigy, at both arcane and priestly magic. I’d never seen her like before, and doubt I will again.”

Which meant, Taegan reflected glumly, that of all Thentia’s scholars, Sinylla might have been the one whom Kara’s venture could least afford to lose.

“Yet for all her talents,” Rilitar continued, “she was blithe and unassuming, full of mirth and kindness. Nearly all her fellow wizards liked her, and you’ve met us, Taegan. Half of us don’t like anybody.”

“That half including Phourkyn,” the avariel said, “but he fought to save her. Perhaps he did save me. He drove the chasme back when it had me down and was reaching for my throat.”

“So we can cross him off our list of suspects.”

“It would appear so. He couldn’t have conjured or psychically directed the chasme at the same time Sureene was interrogating him, could he? But if it isn’t you, him, Firefingers, Sinylla, or Scattercloak, then who? Fat, fretful Darvin in his pretentious robes of white? A supposedly less powerful member of your circle? A stranger lurking somewhere in town? The possibilities rattle around in my skull like dice in a cup.”

“I should have been there,” Rilitar said, “to stand with you and help protect Sinylla.”

“No,” said Taegan, “that’s unacceptable. If I’m not permitted to blame myself, then neither are you. You’re not Helm the all-seeing, and couldn’t know the traitor would strike when and where he did.”

“You’re right,” Rilitar said. “It’s just hard to see Sinylla perish so young and full of promise. Humans live such brief—”

A shadow swept over them, and folk started to clamor. Taegan looked up, just in time to glimpse enormous wings beating, a flash of bronze scales in the sun, and the human figures, tiny by comparison, clinging to the dragon’s spine. Then the wyrm vanished behind a tall building.