by Ari Marmell
"Come in." The voice was thin, old and on the edge of quavering. It also came from everywhere at once. "Make yourselves at home. But Rebaine, I know what you're capable of, and I know what the Kholben Shiar are capable of, and I assure you I have more than enough power to deal with you both."
"Of course you do." Corvis watched his companions hang their cloaks upon the pegs, ignored their questioning glances when he refrained from doing the same. When they were ready, he led the way into the hall beyond.
Here was all the opulence the manor's exterior eschewed. Fine paintings hung in gilded frames; recessed niches held golden candelabra. More braziers filled the air with a subtle incense, a little cloying for Corvis's tastes but not overwhelming. Even a few of the windows, which had appeared mundane from the outside, showed themselves to be ornate stained glass when viewed from within. Through several of those, Corvis caught glimpses of movement-trees, perhaps, or low-hanging fog-that didn't remotely match the terrain of the estate outside. He wondered where in the world those windows looked. Then he wondered onto which world those windows looked, and then he decided to stop wondering.
Assuming that their host would let them know if they chose wrong, Corvis ignored the various closed doors and smaller side passages to either side of the hall, continuing straight until it opened up into a great room. Bookshelves stood like soldiers at attention along one wall, while a large staircase occupied another. The rest of the chamber boasted plush sofas and small reading tables. A balcony loomed above, and the man staring down at them could only have been Nenavar himself.
He looked, to Corvis, like a vulture masquerading as a man.
"I'm sorry, Nenavar," Salia began. "I didn't really have any-"
He waved a hand in arrogant dismissal. "What's this nonsense about Khanda, Rebaine? My creatures cannot harm me, and I'd certainly never release him from his bonds!"
"If you're so certain of that," Jassion murmured, "why did you let us in?"
"He can't harm you with his magics," Corvis corrected, ignoring the baron (as usual). "But Khanda's picked up some human sorcery along the way. You've no protection from that."
"Perhaps," he admitted grudgingly, "but there's no magic he could master potent enough to defeat me before I could cripple him."
Corvis tapped a finger against his own head. "Not even one of Selakrian's own incantations, Nenavar?"
Even from where he stood, he saw the blood drain from the wizard's face, saw his hands clench on the railing. "You kept one?"
"I did."
"Then perhaps the solution, Rebaine, is to kill you."
"You could try." The old warlord smiled. "Of course, Khanda's already ripped most of it from my mind. You sure me being dead would stop him from getting the rest out of me?"
Nenavar disappeared from the balcony, whether via teleportation or simply stepping back into the shadows, Corvis couldn't guess. He reappeared a moment later through one of the room's sundry doors.
"We've much work to do," he said simply. "I'll require your help in setting up; it'll go much faster than if I do it myself."
"That's it?" Jassion asked incredulously from behind. "No oaths, no threats of what'll happen if we try to harm you, no safeguards? Just 'we have work to do'?"
Nenavar offered an uneven, sickly smile. "Would you like to have a demon roving about our world unchecked, my lord?"
"Not especially."
"Oddly enough, neither would I. Now be silent and either assist or get out of our way."
For half an hour and more, Corvis and Nenavar mixed powders and herbs, drew ornate sigils across the great stone-floored cellar beneath the house. Irrial, Salia, and Jassion pounded constantly up and down the steps, fetching and carrying at Nenavar's decree-some with greater alacrity than others.
"I think," the old wizard told Corvis as the Guildmistress stomped away once more, "that Mavere still does not entirely believe you are telling the truth."
"Why do you?" Corvis couldn't help but ask.
"Because you have not attacked me. Because I do not think you would have revealed that you possess one of Selakrian's invocations just to run a bluff. And because the notion you've raised is horrifying enough that I cannot afford to risk it."
"Perhaps you ought to have considered that before you bloody well summoned Khanda in the first place!"
Nenavar smiled, then winced as he knelt to expand the sigil, his old joints popping loudly in the quiet. "It's what I do, Rebaine. I'm a conjurer. I've never had any difficulties before."
"And you've summoned demons before, have you?"
"A time or two. You've actually encountered my work yourself, you know."
Corvis froze a moment, then continued crushing dried leaves in a small iron pestle. "Have I?"
"Indeed." But he refused to elaborate.
"Why are you even a part of this, Nenavar? What's it all about?"
"Money. A lot of money, and a promise of continued employment in the new order."
"Heh. That's never a good phrase. Tell me."
"Nenavar!" It was Mavere, returned to the cellar with an armload of supplies. "Keep silent!"
But the old wizard, perhaps rattled by his guests' revelations and reluctant to alienate those who stood between him and his errant minion, ignored her command. "What do you think, Rebaine? I'm sure you've got most of it puzzled out already."
Corvis nodded and handed over the powder, watching as Nenavar sprinkled it throughout the corners of the room. "I know it involves Cephira and some of Imphallion's Guilds," he said. "And I know you got Khanda's name from Ellowaine."
"Right… A bit more of this, if you would."
Returning to the worktable and spilling out more leaves, Corvis continued. "It's a power play, obviously. It always is, where the Guilds are concerned. But I'm tired, I hurt, and I'm just a bit worried about Khanda right now." He mashed down on the leaves with more force than necessary, practically bending the iron in which they lay. "So you tell me."
"Nenavar…," Salia warned. Again, he chose not to listen.
"I know not who first came up with the idea, whether it was General Rhykus or an Imphallian Guildmaster. Cephira would conquer the eastern reaches of Imphallion, and the Guilds wouldn't interfere. Most of the eastern provinces are still strongholds of the nobility, so their power would be substantially weakened. Once done, only then would the Guilds move, fielding their own armies to 'prevent' the invaders from moving any farther, perhaps driving them back-but only partway to the border. Cephira annexes new territories, since the eventual treaty would allow them to keep what they'd taken. The Guilds get to be the heroes who saved the rest of Imphallion from Cephiran conquest. Between their new public support and the further weakening of the noble Houses, they would squelch the political infighting between Guilds and aristocracy once and for all, transforming Imphallion into a true mercantile empire."
Corvis was certain he was driving his teeth back through his gums, so tightly was his jaw clenched, and Salia physically recoiled from his fury. He noticed only then than Irrial and Jassion stood upon the stairs as well, having paused in their errands to hear the wizard's revelations.
"Let me see," Corvis growled darkly, "if I can fill in the rest, then. The Guilds had to eliminate several nobles who weren't based in the east, but were too entrenched to ignore. And they needed an excuse to explain why they didn't react to the invasion sooner. So here comes 'Corvis Rebaine,' whose murders accomplish both right nicely." He took a step toward the stairs, his fists trembling. "I am so bloody sick of being used!"
"But it wasn't just nobles," Irrial noted from atop the stairs. " 'Rebaine' butchered Guildsmen, too."
"Oh, I can answer that, too," Corvis told her. "Only a few Guildmasters would be in on this scheme-and some of them probably decided it was too treasonous even for them to swallow. So they had to go, before they could talk. And that also nicely covered up the fact that most of the intended victims were nobles.
"None of which answers my main question: Why
Khanda?"
Salia said nothing, her face stiff.
"Because he knew you well enough to make the murders truly convincing," Nenavar answered in her stead. "Because he possessed enough power to reach the targets no matter what precautions they took, and because it put a neutral third party-that would be me, since I was technically working for both sides-in position to force either the Guilds or the Cephirans to abide by the terms of the agreement, should one or the other attempt to renege. Although any demon would have done for those latter purposes, of course."
"And me?" Jassion's voice shook, making his words almost unintelligible. "Where do I fit in?"
Perhaps sensing the growing fury mere feet behind her, Salia decided that silence was no longer the prudent course. "We had to look as though we were dealing with the threat of Rebaine, and we had to ensure that he didn't pop up somewhere public and put the lie to what we were doing. And in so doing, we would also punish him for the crimes he committed against Imphallion so long ago. Something else," she added bitterly, "that Khanda was supposed to make happen."
Minutes passed, and nobody spoke. Corvis glared down at Sunder, battling a desperate need to kill something.
"I don't believe it," he said finally, tearing his gaze from the demon-forged blade. "Oh, it makes sense, but… Mavere was there, when Audriss summoned the Children of Apocalypse. I saw you," he continued, now turning toward her, "how you reacted. No political scheme would entice you to risk that happening again."
"I was assured there was no risk," she muttered, but she could not meet his eyes.
It was, perhaps unsurprisingly, Irrial who figured it out. "She was afraid."
"Shut your mouth, you godsdamned-!"
But nobody was listening to the priestess at that point. "Of me?" Corvis demanded. "More than she was of a demon? I was bad, but I wasn't that-"
"The demons didn't threaten to take her mind from her, Corvis."
Finally, finally he understood. "You thought you might be one of them," he whispered, marveling. "You figured out that I'd charmed many of the Guildmasters, and you were afraid you were among them!"
"Until you had to hold that damn axe to my throat to force me to bring you here, yes," Mavere admitted, her shoulders sagging. "How could I know otherwise? How could I be sure that any choice I made was my own? I had to know I was free of you, you bastard!"
"Well," Corvis said dully. "Congratulations on your success."
Mavere turned away, and again there was silence.
"We should continue," Nenavar said finally. "We're almost ready." Again he began bustling about, while the trio on the stairs descended into the cellar proper.
"What exactly are we doing, Rebaine?" Jassion demanded.
"A banishing incantation. An exorcism, if you prefer. Nenavar called Khanda, so Nenavar is best suited to send him back. It's no easy spell, though."
"We can't just kill the old man? Isn't that what you did with Audriss, to banish Maukra and Mimgol?"
"I never did learn if it was killing Audriss or burning the book, actually," Corvis corrected. "But no, not all summoning incantations work that way. This one doesn't, it appears."
"Too bad. It would've made things much simpler."
Corvis nodded his agreement. Only then did they glance at each other, horrified to realize how alike they were thinking. Jassion scowled and moved across the room.
"All right," Nenavar said, standing as straight as his aged back would permit, "I need everyone to move away from the sigil, and to keep silent. Once I've begun, I can afford no-"
Corvis recognized the sound from above, the hideous shrieking of displaced air, but the wide-open cellar offered nowhere to hide. Portions of the ceiling burst in a rain of stone as Khanda's pillar of eldritch force slammed into the earth, hurling people around the chamber, dolls caught up in a child's tantrum. Even as he smashed into the far wall, his head ringing, his lungs burning as the breath rushed from them, Corvis could not help but note that neither Nenavar himself, nor the arcane runes upon the floor, were touched.
The old wizard raised his hands, seeking the source of the attack. "Come out, Khanda!" he cried. "You know you cannot harm me!" He clenched a fist in anger, and from somewhere in the broken house above, a voice shrieked in agony.
But Corvis saw, too, a dark-clad figure slipping through the ruins of the cellar, concealed from the others by piles of rubble-a figure that was most assuredly not Khanda.
"Mellorin!" He tried to shout, but his words emerged in only a ragged wheeze. "Mellorin, no! You don't know what he is! You don't-"
For an instant she rounded on him, her eyes blazing. "I know exactly who he is! And I know who you are, Father! I'm just glad I'm here to see you get some sliver of what you deserve."
"No, please…"
But she was already moving. Nenavar had only just heard something, only begun to look behind, when she whipped the pommel of a heavy dagger across the back of his head, watched as he tumbled senseless to the debris-strewn floor.
Corvis struggled halfway to his feet, reaching out imploringly for his daughter, when his ears were assaulted by the shriek of another spell from above. He saw only an instant of the second detonation before he tumbled, limp and senseless, to the far corner.
Chapter Twenty-three
ONCE AGAIN, AWARENESS RETURNED to Corvis's body at a slow creep, accompanied by the sharp pain of rocks splayed beneath him and the throbbing ache of bruised, maybe broken, limbs. Despite that pain, his mouth curled in a faint smile. Any human opponent with a shred of sanity would have slain him while he lay helpless, but for once, Khanda's hellish nature was working for them. So deep did the demon's innate cruelty run, he had to keep Corvis alive as witness to his ultimate triumph.
Of course, had Khanda known that the old warlord would not long remain as weak as he appeared, he might have acted differently.
Around him, Corvis heard the faint patter of falling dust and settling stones, along with an occasional whimper or moan, and knew he must not have been unconscious long. He heard, as well, Khanda's voice, echoing from all sides. It took him a few moments to recognize, with a dull but growing horror, the familiar syllables.
He struggled to focus, to spur his sluggish thoughts into motion. The demon must have been inside his head once more, extracting the last bits of Selakrian's spell, and Corvis was pathetically grateful that he'd been oblivious during this second violation.
For the decay in his mind, there was little to be done, but his physical hurts could yet be assuaged. Corvis forced his breathing to remain steady as the worst of the pains faded-not entirely or even substantially, but enough to become tolerable. His lips twitched in relief, and he wondered what his companions must be thinking as they felt the same healing touch.
Opening his eyes, he could see clearly into the manor's upper levels. Bits of rock trickled down from what remained of the ceiling, and the cellar's stone floor, except for the area circumscribed by the sigil, had fared little better. Great chunks of it were shattered or missing, revealing pits of clay or soil below, filling the air with a rich, earthen scent.
And there, across the room…
Oh, gods. I'm so sorry, I never wanted any of this life to touch yours…
She stood straight, her dark hair plastered to the sides of her face with a light sheen of sweat. In each hand she held a brutal, heavy-bladed dagger, one of which was covered in a spidery array of subtly shifting runes. Corvis couldn't help but wonder, albeit briefly, if anyone had ever before, in all recorded history, wielded two of the Kholben Shiar at once.
She'd grown, these past years, into a striking young woman. He saw a touch of his own craggy features, softened and smoothed by her mother's influence. Yet in her eyes he saw neither Tyannon's gentle strength nor his own burning obsession but something else entirely, a deep well of intensity whose nature he could not interpret-in part because it was largely hidden behind a growing spark of fearful confusion as her world spiraled out of control.
And
Corvis Rebaine realized, with a muffled sob, that he didn't know his own daughter well enough to know if he should be proud of her-but he knew, beyond the sharpest sliver of doubt, that he could be.
/Ah, there you are, old boy! I was afraid you were going to miss the big finish./
It sounded in his mind and soul rather than his ears, just as it had so many years before. He could actually feel his thoughts recoiling from that unholy intrusion like the curling edge of burning parchment. Groaning with only half-feigned effort, Corvis craned around further to glare at the figures beside his apprehensive daughter.
An unconscious Nenavar, bloody head lolling limply on his neck, sat awkwardly before Khanda, propped up by one of the demon's hands. Khanda himself, still wearing Kaleb's shape, knelt upon the floor, chanting Selakrian's invocation without interruption even as his words resounded in Corvis's thoughts.
/Did you know,/ Khanda asked conversationally as the incantation progressed, /that it was Nenavar who helped Audriss awaken Pekatherosh? Small world, isn't it? You ought to be standing in line to kill the old stick, not working with him./
Corvis mumbled something, spat out a mouthful of dirt and sticky, half-dried blood.
/Where is old Pekky, anyway? You didn't send him back to hell-I was waiting-and I know you didn't free him from that silly little jewel./
"Safe," Corvis rasped.
Silence for a moment, and then Khanda began to laugh uproariously-mostly in Corvis's head, but even his physical body convulsed, his mouth bending around a smile that almost, almost mangled the next syllables of the spell.
/Oh, Corvis, you really never change, do you? You stuck him back in the cave on Mount Molleya, didn't you? "Just in case," yes?/
"It held you well enough all those years," Corvis said with a painful shrug.
/So it did, so it did./
Far more quietly, gathering all that remained of his battered will to ensure that none of his words reached Khanda's awareness, Corvis whispered, "Can you do it?"