Vhok had been angry about abandoning the alu since Tauran made the decision. In fact, he had refused to entertain the possibility at all when the angel suggested it. Tauran was forced to explain the direness of the situation in terms that magically coerced the half-fiend to acquiesce. Vhok had fumed for the three days since, constantly uttering disparaging remarks, often under his breath, about every move the angel made.
“No more,” Tauran said to Vhok. “You made your objections clear the day we left, and I’ve heard enough. Keep your silence.”
“What? You think I’m some child you can scold and discipline?” the cambion said. “You may compel me to assist you in stopping Zasian, but you hold no sway over what I say.”
Tauran closed his eyes and swallowed. He did not open them as he spoke. “Perhaps,” he explained, “but if you do not cease your complaints, it will hinder my ability to think clearly, and we might not be successful in denying the priest his scheme.”
He opened his eyes again. Vhok tried to say something, but he could not form the words. The harder he worked at it, the more his eyes bulged. Veins in his neck stood out from the exertion of trying to defy the geas upon him. When he finally stopped, he just glared at Tauran and then moved off a few steps to pace.
“That was clever,” Kael said, keeping his voice soft so that Vhok could not hear.
Tauran sighed. “I didn’t even mean for it to work that way,” he said. “I merely wanted him to understand how maddening his comments have become. I’m losing control, Kael. Everything is slipping through my fingers.”
The knight cocked his head to one side. Tauran could see the worry in the half-drow’s eyes. “You’re just weary and frustrated,” he said, trying to sound encouraging. “You know we’re close. And I’m here to help. Just tell me what we need to do.”
Tauran took another deep breath, thinking. He wanted to tell Kael that the champion’s trust in him was misplaced, that he had led them all on a big, frolicking adventure to a dead end and had managed to ruin all their lives in the process. Instead, he said, “We need to find a way to get inside the rotunda.” He pointed to the dome at the top of the Hall of Petitions. “That’s where my vision happened. That’s where Zasian and Kashada will steal Azuth’s staff. You saw it, too.”
Kael shook his head as if trying to shake something free. He scrubbed his hand across his face. “I saw it, too,” he said. “It’s just so hard to believe that such a thing could happen. As powerful as they are, there’s no way that Zasian and Kashada, two mere mortals, could sneak in there and steal the Old Staff right out from beneath Azuth’s nose.”
“If I had told you before all this started that Tyr would slay Helm, would you have found that easy to believe?”
Kael stared at the ground. He shrugged. “No,” he admitted. “It would have seemed preposterous. I suppose I just can’t imagine how they’re going to pull it off.”
“That’s not important,” Tauran said, laying a hand on his companion’s shoulder. “Whatever Cyric’s intentions are, no good can come of it. And if we can warn Azuth—either directly or through his most trusted advisors—we may never find out what the Liar planned. But if we don’t get past all this bureaucracy and actually stop him, Zasian will succeed.”
Kael nodded. “Maybe we’re going about this all wrong,” he said. He turned toward Vhok. “Half-fiend, come here.”
Vhok turned and frowned. “You do not give me orders, whelp,” he growled.
Tauran started to intervene, but Kael held his hand for the angel to wait. “I know, but we need your expertise.”
Vhok grimaced, but he rejoined the two of them. “What?”
Kael smiled. “We need to figure out how to break in there”—he pointed to the dome—“and we figure you’re just the clever fellow to come up with a plan.”
Tauran tilted his head, looking appreciatively at Kael. Very good, he thought. Draw him in, get him interested again.
Vhok stared at the imposing edifice for a few moments. “Very well,” he said. “What do we know about it?”
Tauran shook his head and interrupted. “Not here,” he cautioned. “Let’s get off the avenue and talk about this somewhere private.”
The trio turned and headed away from the Hall of Petitions. They found a private spot within a stone garden and sat down together beneath a series of crystalline columns to discuss things.
“This is where that arcane magic you like to look down your nose at might just come in handy,” Vhok said to Tauran as they began to plan.
This isn’t going to work, Kael projected. They must have safeguards in place for tricks like this.
Kaanyr would have smiled if he had a mouth, but he had rendered his body insubstantial and nearly invisible through the use of some of his favorite magic. In gaseous form he glided along the roof of the lowest floor of the Hall of Petitions. He angled toward a wall surrounding the next level of the edifice. Behind him, Tauran and Kael moved in similar fashion.
You’d be surprised, the cambion said. Everyone expects the flashy magic—the teleportation, the invisibility—but no one ever thinks to watch for a near-transparent cloud of gas. Just stay low, against the surfaces, and you’ll be fine.
Kaanyr’s plan had also called for them to link mentally to one another. He needed a few simple items from a vendor in the streets to pull it off. He was proud of its simplicity.
Well, this may get us to the rotunda, but getting inside will be another matter, Kael said. There’s bound to be a whole host of protective spells there to keep us out.
We’ll deal with that when the time comes, Tauran interjected. We only need to make them see the threat. Even if they catch us, at least we’ll have gotten their attention and can explain the dire situation to them.
A thought had been plaguing Kaanyr, one that he had stubbornly shoved to the back of his mind. He didn’t want to think about it, but he could no longer ignore it. How do we know Zasian hasn’t already succeeded? he asked.
I think we’d have noticed if something had happened, Tauran replied. His thought conveyed wry amusement. You don’t steal the Lord of Spells’s staff without a bit of noticeable backlash.
Kaanyr had to admit that would be true. Still, he argued, Zasian and Kashada might already be up there, getting ready.
Perhaps, Tauran said. But even if that is so, we are not too late—yet.
Recognizing the angel’s sense of urgency, Kaanyr focused on getting the three of them to the dome as quickly as their magic would allow. He led them up and over the wall, where they encountered a colonnaded porch. From there, they climbed to another level and drifted past windows and balconies until they reached a great plaza that surrounded the dome.
The cambion spied sentries everywhere they moved, both archons and angels, dressed in the livery of Azuth and keeping a watchful eye on the surroundings. He led his two companions between the guards, through places where they would best blend in with the architecture. They traveled along corners, glided up columns, and at one point they even seeped through a series of cracks in the stonework, passing right between a hound archon’s feet.
Kaanyr thought of Aliisza. He wondered again why she had not returned to the docks to meet them. He remembered the grizzled guide at the docks and his suggestion that some never returned from their journey.
Is that what happened? he wondered. Are you trapped there forever? The thought made him remarkably sad. He felt a brief surge of renewed anger at the angel for leaving her behind.
In his own way, Kaanyr knew he loved her. She could be insufferable at times, strong-headed and too cunning by half. But they had shared much together, and he missed her.
If you could see me now, the cambion thought wryly, helping these two like this, you’d smirk and tell me I was letting my human side get the best of me. He shrugged. Maybe I am.
The real conundrum in Vhok’s mind was, he didn’t know if he was doing it because Tauran had compelled him or because Aliisza would have insisted on it if she wer
e there. Kaanyr sighed and swore yet again that, when they were finished dealing with Zasian and when the angel released him from his servitude, he would return to the Eye of Savras and find her.
What now? Kael asked, drawing Kaanyr our of his thoughts. We’re almost to the rotunda.
Kaanyr had led them all the way to a narrow railing that encircled the great dome. Narrow windows pierced the surface of the dome at regular intervals there, too small for most creatures to fit through.
Through the gaps, Kaanyr instructed. And we’ll see what we see.
He moved to slip through one of the windows and felt a trigger of magic. He had disturbed some arcane barrier.
Uh-oh, he projected. I think I tripped an alarm.
I can sense it, too, Tauran answered. Too late to worry about now. Is something barring you?
Kaanyr tested the window and discovered that it was not blocked. He told Tauran and Kael as much and glided through the gap.
The cambion emerged into a large, curving hallway that clearly surrounded an inner chamber within the dome. Deep azure carpet covered marble floors, and graceful sweeping arches ran from the floor to the ceiling along the outer wall in between each window. Farther down to Kaanyr’s left, a set of double doors led into the interior of the dome. In the opposite direction, he could see a pair of archons and a green-skinned, bald-headed planetar approaching. They moved rapidly, clearly in a hurry.
I think they’re coming to investigate us, Kaanyr projected. Whatever we’re going to do, we’d better do it fast. They won’t overlook us now that they’re wary.
You two keep going, Tauran instructed. I will confront them. I will try to stall them so you can get inside and warn someone, but whatever happens to me, don’t stop.
That’s not wise, Kaanyr said. You’re an angel, more reputable than either of us in these parts. You should be the one to keep going. They’ll listen to you inside. Let me hold them off. A cambion trying to sneak into Azuth’s inner sanctum may seem like suicide, but it will also be a reasonable explanation for why we’re sneaking in and not knocking on the front door. They won’t think to look for accomplices quite as fast.
He’s right, Kael agreed. Speak the truth, and they will listen to you. But we don’t belong here.
I can’t let you do that, Tauran said. I am the one respon—
To the Hells with that, Kaanyr decided. He’s not coming up with some coercive reason to make me obey. Before Tauran could finish, the cambion banished his spell of gaseousness and materialized in front of the oncoming celestials.
Beside Kaanyr, Kael appeared just as suddenly. I guess we had the same idea, he said, grinning.
You two are both fools, Tauran said.
Kaanyr smiled back at the knight as he raised his hands in supplication. I couldn’t help myself, he answered. It just occurred to me that it was the best chance to succeed, and it happened on its own.
You’re a liar, Vhok, Tauran said. Thank you.
Just go, Kael said. He, too, had his hands in the air. Stop Zasian.
The celestials approached the pair of half-fiends warily, their eyes wide. “Unbelievable!” the planetar said, raising his enchanted sword. “How dare you defile this holy place of magic, you fiends!”
“We surrender,” Kael said. “We must spea—”
Kael’s explanation got cut off as the planetar spoke an all-too-familiar word of power.
The resultant blast of holy energy knocked Kaanyr unconscious.
Kael watched Vhok crumple to the floor beside him and then turned back to the planetar in disbelief.
The emerald-skinned creature watched them both, and when he realized that his divine attack had not affected Kael, he brought his sword up and began stalking forward.
“Wait!” Kael said, his hands still raised in the air. “We are surrendering!”
“You are intruders defiling the sacred inner sanctum of Azuth himself, and you shall be slain!” the planetar replied. He kept coming.
Behind him, the two archons vanished. Kael assumed they had fled to seek help.
With a growl of frustration, Kael dropped his hands and grabbed his own sword. He raised it into position and stepped in front of Vhok. “I don’t want a fight, but I won’t let you just cut us both down,” he said.
The planetar raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You think you have a choice in the matter?” he asked. “I don’t remember offering one.”
The celestial swung his blade at Kael. The champion of Torm countered the stroke with his own weapon. The two swords clanged together and sent shivers down Kael’s arms. Sparks flew from the grating edges. Kael grunted at the force of the blow.
The angel swung again, and it was all Kael could do to get his defenses up in time to parry the attack. The power of it forced him back. He had to mind his footwork so as not to stumble over Vhok.
Fool angel, Kael thought. As bad as Micus and the High Council. “Why won’t you listen to me?” he demanded. “I am not your enemy!”
The emerald creature said nothing but continued to press his attacks.
Again and again the planetar attacked, and each time, Kael barely managed to deflect the strike. The creature was simply too strong. He would wear the knight down in only a matter of moments.
I’m not afraid to die, he thought. But this is wrong. Such a waste.
“You have the power to tell if I’m lying,” Kael said. “Use it! I’m here because of a common enemy. Tell me how to prove that, how I can win your trust.”
The planetar struck again, and the force of the blow knocked Kael’s blade completely to the side. He was exposed. The celestial attacked once more, slicing into the half-drow’s arm. The plating there split in half and the sword sliced deeply into the flesh beneath.
Kael grunted and stumbled down onto one knee. “Come now!” he shouted. “Do something smarter than just kill me, you idiot!”
But the planetar drew back for another, killing stroke.
Tauran let his flowing, vaporous body drift beneath the heavy doors. The moment he got beyond the portal and into the chamber, he dismissed the magic keeping him insubstantial and returned to his solid form.
A chill went down the angel’s spine.
He stood in the rotunda, the same one from his vision. It was identical in nearly every detail, only everything appeared sharper and clearer to his eyes.
A set of columns stood in a circle halfway between the surrounding wall and the center of the room, rising to the domed ceiling, which was cloaked in darkness overhead. A few candles set in holders on those columns kept the chamber dimly lit, leaving plenty of gloom around the perimeter.
The angel saw one difference between the real version and his vision. No gods stood within. He did not feel the presence of anyone. There was no staff to steal.
He had expected to find celestial beings—solars, perhaps—to convince. He had imagined the chamber serving as a council room, such as what he was used to back in the House of the Triad. But Tauran stood alone within the rotunda.
True apprehension crashed through him, one of the few times in the angel’s long existence that he felt such.
Very well, he thought. I’m here. Tyr has abandoned me, and I seem to be playing right into Zasian’s hands. Now what?
The deva took a few steps forward, staring into every shadow. He strained to spy what might be hiding behind the columns. He sought other doors or windows, any means at all of entering the room. No one seemed to be there, nor did it appear that they could slip in without sentries noticing.
I did it, Tauran reminded himself. But perhaps I am the first to arrive.
He walked farther into the chamber. His footsteps echoed within the confines of the round wall until he stood within the exact center, where every sound bounced back to him in perfect clarity. Even the deva’s breaths returned to his ears. They sounded unduly rapid, nervous.
If someone else were there, he would hear them.
But Tauran was no fool.
“Zasian,�
�� he called. He kept his voice soft, but the word came back to him from every direction. “I know you’re here. You cannot hide forever.”
Tauran heard a faint rustle of cloth and turned to see a tall, handsome man dressed in black with highlights of gold in his tunic step out of the shadows beyond one of the columns. He stood a few paces away from the angel, smiling. His dark hair hung down his back past his shoulders, matching the color of his flowing moustache. A pendant hanging from a chain around his neck, a silver skull, marked him as a priest of Cyric.
Zasian Menz.
“Very good,” Zasian said. “You figured out my little secret.”
Another rustle, quieter than Zasian, reached the deva from his right. He spotted a form of darkness and shadows emerge. He glanced at it and confirmed that it was Kashada the Nightwraith. Her figure remained swathed in shadow, indistinct. Midnight eyes smiled at him from above her veil.
Tauran swallowed his worry. “Your welcoming party at the dryad village told me all I needed to know,” he said. “But then, you knew it would, didn’t you? You wanted me to figure all this out.”
“Down to the last little detail,” Zasian replied. “And you performed admirably.”
“But why? Whatever my role is supposed to be in your plan, you cannot truly hope to steal Azuth’s staff,” Tauran said. “Bringing me here was a mistake. You know I will try to stop you.”
“Oh, I’m counting on it,” the priest said. “You’d be surprised what a little distraction will do for Kashada’s chances to succeed.”
As if that were a signal, Kashada stepped backward and vanished into the deeper shadows of the chamber. At the same moment, Zasian moved toward Tauran, his pendant in hand.
Micus stared across the plaza at the Hall of Petitions. “You are certain?” he asked the zelekhut beside him. “Tauran is within?”
The centaurlike construct nodded. “Indeed,” it said in its flat, mechanical voice. “Within that dome at the highest point.” It pointed to the apex of the cavern.
Micus frowned. “Now, how did he manage to pull that off?”
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