by Kate Novak
“I didn’t know you could miss abuse,” Joel said caustically.
“Bane is the embodiment of power, of strength. For him to allow any to question his authority would be a demonstration of weakness. The feel of his power is like this drink, sharp and strong. When he shared his power with me, I was happy. Now that he is in another plane, I cannot call on him for power.”
“You can’t cast any spells unless he’s near?” Joel asked.
“He is strong, but he is only the essence of the god,” Walinda explained. “He cannot send his power across the astral void.”
“He doesn’t know half of what Jedidiah knows about anything. He’s just a banelich using you for his own mad schemes.”
Walinda set her hand down on Joel’s knee and leaned in closer to the young bard. “My lord Bane said you would try to sway my belief in him, Poppin. He knows you are jealous of his power. He is wise as well as powerful.” Her fingers tightened on his knee, her nails poking into his flesh. The scent of the wine about her was cloying.
Joel lifted her hand away and set it on the table. “I couldn’t care less about his power. You were the one who came in to talk to me,” he pointed out. “Could it be that you have your own doubts? Could it be that you’re tired of being the slave of a heartless lich?”
Walinda chuckled. “But the banelich does have a heart, Poppin,” she confided with a drunken certainty. She slid her hand into his shirt. “He keeps it here in a small silver box.” She pressed her fingers against his breastbone and slid her hand along his ribs.
Joel grabbed at her wrist and once again pulled her hand away from his body, then released it.
Walinda jerked her head up and breathed in deeply. “I am prepared to admit,” she said with the exaggerated enunciation of an offended drunk, “that the banelich who holds my lord’s essence is not perfect. It has its weaknesses. The fool has borne your mentor’s insolence because it is afraid we will not succeed without his help. Desperation and fear are weaknesses not to be tolerated.” She downed the rest of the drink in her cup and set it down on the table.
“So why are you helping this weak thing become Bane?” Joel asked.
“When Bane is resurrected, the banelich will not matter. I will be Bane’s chosen priest,” she whispered excitedly. She put both hands on his face and leaned forward.
Joel clenched his jaw, determined to show no reaction to the priestess’s kiss. But Walinda did not kiss him. Instead, she bit him on the lower lip, not too hard, but not gently either.
More than a little frightened, Joel grabbed both her wrists and pulled away. “How do you know Bane won’t choose the banelich for his priest?” he asked. “Suppose it really is Bane’s essence that’s desperate and afraid? Suppose you’ve enslaved yourself to a weak god who is jealous of your own strength? What kind of weak, desperate fool does that make you?”
Walinda stiffened. “My Lord Bane is power and strength. I will not tolerate your blasphemy.” She rose unsteadily to her feet and strode to the door, bumping her shin on the table as she passed. She turned in the doorway. “My only foolishness was expecting you might wish to share in my triumph. When we find the Hand of Bane, you will witness my god’s resurrection and see me exalted as his most loyal servant. Then you will know what true power is. I will ask Lord Bane to take you to your god, Poppin, so that you may see what a poor, cheap thing your Finder is beside my lord.”
Then she spun about and strode out the door toward her own room.
Joel picked up his cup and held it up. “Here’s to you, Finder, you poor, cheap thing,” he toasted, then drained the cup. Finder, he knew, would laugh at the irony.
Joel couldn’t remember falling asleep. He awoke in a dark place, with a throbbing headache, and realized he was bound hand and foot and slung over the shoulder of some great monster. His insides churned, and he heaved the contents of his dinner and Walinda’s liquor down his captor’s back.
The creature growled some unknown word, no doubt a curse, and set Joel down, none too gently, on the ground. A lamp shone somewhere in the distance, silhouetting Joel’s captor. The bard gasped. The monster was one of the bull-headed soldiers of the Celestial Bureaucracy, a go-zu-oni. The bard wracked his aching head trying to figure out what had happened, why he was being carried off.
The go-zu-oni pulled off its cloak and wiped off the garment with the bottom of Joel’s shirt. Joel cried out, and the go-zu-oni stuffed a rag in his mouth, then swung him back over its shoulder.
Joel couldn’t see where he was or where they were going. He was having trouble breathing and only wished that the go-zu-oni would set him down again soon. Joel passed out.
He regained consciousness to the sensation of ice-cold fingers stroking his face. He was lying on the ground. Someone holding a lantern hovered over him. Joel squinted in the light, trying to make out the someone’s face.
“Yes. This is the one,” a familiar voice said.
Joel’s eyes widened. It was the banelich who held the lantern. The undead creature’s lipless smile, which exposed its brown teeth and yellow tongue, was horrible to see. The young bard shuddered.
The banelich set the lamp on the ground and turned away from Joel to address the go-zu-oni who stood behind him. “You’ve done well.”
“Now you will pay me what you promised,” the go-zu-oni demanded.
“Accept your reward,” the banelich whispered and reached out to touch the giant creature.
The go-zu-oni gasped and fell to the ground, its face very near Joel’s. The creature’s eyes were open but unblinking. Blood ran from its mouth, nose, and ears. The banelich had killed it with a touch.
The undead creature bent over Joel again and grabbed a fistful of his hair. Joel tried to wriggle away, but the banelich held him fast. “Now we will see what sort of fool your master is,” it said. “I believe he will do anything to purchase your worthless life.”
The banelich whispered an unknown word, and a black aura surrounded the fingers of its free hand. It brushed aside Joel’s shirt and lay its hand on the bard’s chest near his heart.
A searing cold tingled over Joel’s flesh, and an agonizing pain shot through his lungs and heart. Joel’s scream was stifled by the rag in his mouth.
“I need you alive,” the banelich said, “but you must pay for your master’s insolence.
Unable to respond, Joel glared up at the undead monster with hatred.
“Yes,” the banelich said, removing its hand. “You think you are strong. Torturing you will be delightful. Then I will trade you for the Hand of Bane and still keep your master’s stone.” The banelich stood up. “I must write your precious Jedidiah a note. When I return, we will journey to the astral plane.”
The banelich picked up the lantern and strode off, leaving Joel in the dark. Joel heard the clang of a metal door, then silence.
The chill in Joel’s chest was unbearable. He laid his bound hands over his heart, desperate for warmth. He couldn’t let the banelich use him to force Jedidiah’s surrender of the Hand of Bane. He had to escape, but how? What could he do?
It took him several moments to gather his wits, but finally it occurred to him that first he needed to escape the pain, and to do that he had to cast a spell. That, in turn, meant he must be able to speak. It took him what seemed like an interminably long time to push the rag out of his mouth with his tongue, but he finally succeeded.
He gasped for air, then hastily murmured a healing prayer. Warmth spread across his chest and the pain subsided. Now he was able to think more clearly.
He needed to free himself from his bonds. He wriggled over beside the go-zu-oni’s body and, in the dark, began feeling around the creature for a weapon. Joel could find no sharp-edged weapon on the monster. Its body was colder than its armor.
Metal armor can be heated, Joel thought, remembering the spell Jedidiah had taught him. Concentrating on the go-zu-oni’s spiked helmet, Joel whispered the words that would warm the metal to a searing red heat.
/> The stench from the go-zu-oni’s hair was awful, but Joel managed to burn away the sisal rope at his wrists and ankles without burning his own flesh too badly. Then he crawled in the direction of the door.
He found the door in the dark. There was no light coming from under or over the door or through the keyhole. Joel put his ear to the door. No sound came from beyond. With no clue to guide him, the bard’s only choice was to risk it.
Joel stood up and turned the door handle. The handle turned easily. The door opened soundlessly. Only darkness lay beyond.
With his heart pounding, Joel stepped through the doorway. There was no alarm. He slid along the wall until he spotted a light, not a red light like the lich’s lantern emitted, but a bright magical light with a blue tinge. Joel followed the glow.
Suddenly he found himself in the streets of the palace, surrounded by unrecognizable buildings. The blue light came from an iron lamppost. Joel began running through the streets without a clue where he was heading but determined to get as far as possible from the banelich.
He heard footsteps following behind him, and he ran faster. He missed a step down into a courtyard and landed sprawled out on his hands and knees. The footsteps grew closer.
Joel shouted and rolled over. Shishi’s servant, the old woman in orange pants and robe, stood over him, hissing furiously with her finger over her lips.
Joel grew instantly quiet. The old woman helped him to his feet, then motioned for him to follow. The bard hurried after her as she led him through a maze of passages and streets until they had once again reached Shishi’s garden.
Joel rushed into Walinda’s room, but the priestess was out cold, sleeping off the effects of the beverage she’d served him. Joel could smell it all about her. She didn’t appear to have had anything to do with her master’s plan, but she must have known the banelich hadn’t gone to the astral plane—unless the undead creature had left, then returned to arrange Joel’s abduction.
Joel turned away from the priestess in disgust. He would question her later. Right now he felt sick and exhausted. The old servant stood outside Walinda’s door. On either side of her stood two lion-dogs, not spirits or metallic statues, but flesh-and-blood beasts with sharp teeth and rippling muscles.
“Rest,” the servant said. “You have nothing to fear now. You will not be disturbed again.”
Joel bowed his thanks and slid into his own room. He fell to the mat and was asleep within minutes.
Jedidiah slid Joel’s door open as the Rebel Bard was finishing dressing. “Good morning,” the god greeted him with a look of concern on his face. “I understand you had some excitement here last night.”
Joel nodded. He told Jedidiah all he remembered about his abduction. Jedidiah’s face colored with anger as Joel spoke, but the god listened without comment until Joel finished.
“I was a fool not to expect some treachery from the banelich,” Jedidiah said. “I felt safe leaving you alone in Shishi’s quarters. Poor Shishi is beside himself with shame that this happened to you while you were his guest. He’s called in several favors. The powers-that-be are turning the palace inside out searching for the banelich. The go-zu-oni are desperate to prove their honor in the wake of the shame that one of them was bribed. They’re also eager to avenge their comrade’s death. If the banelich hasn’t fled to the astral plane by now, he’s in big trouble. As for Walinda—”
“I’m not sure Walinda had anything to do with it,” Joel said. “She seemed really drunk last night … but maybe she’s just a good actress. Maybe she brought that liquor over intending to get me drunk so the go-zu-oni could carry me off.”
“The liquor was my fault,” Jedidiah admitted. “I asked Shishi to provide her with some. I sensed she would be amenable to a little bottled warmth. I hoped she might be having a crisis of faith and would admit it to you in a weak moment.”
Joel shook his head. “No such luck. She wanted someone to stand beside her in awe of Bane’s power, to share her triumph with a little celebration. I suggested that Bane—the real thing, not the lich—might be a desperate coward, and she stalked off. If the door didn’t slide, she would probably have slammed it behind her.”
“You don’t think maybe she overreacted for a reason?” Jedidiah asked.
“Because she knew the banelich was listening?” Joel asked.
“No,” Jedidiah replied. “Because she secretly suspects that Bane may not be all she hopes for.”
Joel had to mull that one over for a minute. “I’m not sure,” he said finally. “I just can’t understand why she tolerates the banelich’s treatment of her.”
“If it really holds the essence of Bane, the banelich makes her feel strong, despite its abuse of her. When we first met the banelich, remember how it painwracked Jas and Holly, but you managed to stand against its power?”
Joel nodded with understanding. “I looked at you and felt strong,” he said. “But I didn’t know you were a god then.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Jedidiah said. “You took strength from my presence. Walinda would feel the same in her god’s presence.”
“Maybe she just thinks she’s stronger,” Joel said. “She mentioned that Bane couldn’t grant her spells when the banelich was in the astral plane,” Joel said. “You don’t suppose that Bane has never been the one to grant her spells, do you? Isn’t there some spell that allows a priest to give spells to someone who isn’t a priest?”
“Yes,” Jedidiah said. “But that still leaves the question of who’s giving the banelich its own spells.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Joel said.
“Walinda’s still sleeping. Let’s go out in the garden for breakfast,” Jedidiah said.
Joel followed Jedidiah into the garden. On the little island in the middle of the pond, someone had set a tray with bread and honey and milk and berries. After they had eaten, Joel related in detail his conversation with Walinda. When he mentioned Walinda’s comment about the banelich keeping its heart in a silver box, Jedidiah sat straight up and his eyes widened. A low whistle escaped his lips.
“I never imagined just how crazy the banelich really was,” Jedidiah said.
“Why? What does the silver box mean?” Joel asked.
“It’s his phylactery,” Jedidiah explained. “It holds a lich’s immortality. A lich usually keeps it hidden carefully away. If you destroy a lich’s body, it reforms in a day or so around the phylactery. The only way to really kill the lich is to destroy its phylactery. By carrying it with him, the lich is taking a tremendous risk. If he’s killed, he won’t be able to come back.”
“Then it would be easy to kill him?” Joel asked excitedly.
Jedidiah shook his head. “A phylactery explodes when it’s destroyed. Kills anyone near it. It would definitely destroy the finder’s stone. The lich is so arrogant about its power, it doesn’t believe anyone would dare attack it.”
“Or it could just be too paranoid to give the phylactery to Walinda,” Joel supposed.
Jedidiah nodded. “It wants her completely enslaved to its will. We were talking about the strength Walinda feels when she’s near the lich. I think her longing for that strength is one of the reasons the banelich insisted on sending her with us,” the older priest said. “Despite the talk about her ‘supervising’ us, it has to know she’s no match for the two of us should we decide to take the upper hand. It’s relying on her desire for Bane’s presence to strengthen her loyalty. Of course, it’s playing a dangerous game, risking her soul with heretics like us.”
“Why?” Joel asked.
“Not being a god, the banelich can’t feel it, but the strengthening cuts both ways. Walinda can strengthen Bane with her devotion. Without it, the resurrected god will be weakened.”
Joel looked up at Jedidiah curiously. “Do you feel strengthened by my devotion?”
Jedidiah nodded. “They say that every time someone mentions a god’s name, whether in curse or in prayer, he is strengthened. Without his name being sp
oken, a god fades. But the prayers of the faithful, particularly the prayers of a priest, are much more important. And when those prayers come from the god’s chosen priests, that brings a special power.” Jedidiah paused and looked out over the water. “That’s why I had to stand up to the banelich in the desert when you called on me,” he continued, “even though you used my false name. The strength you made me feel was something my heart couldn’t deny, even though my reason told me I was taking a tremendous risk.”
“Didn’t you care about Jas or Holly?” Joel asked with a stab of irritation.
“Yes, but not enough to risk you. That’s why I’m going to Sigil with you, because I can’t bear to risk having you going in alone.”
“How will you be able to do that?” Joel asked, suddenly uneasy, remembering that Jedidiah had said he had a reckless trick that might get him into the City of Doors.
“First do me a favor. Sing me the tulip song.”
Joel’s scrunched his face up in confusion.
“Humor me,” Jedidiah asked.
The Rebel Bard sighed. He cleared his throat. Then he sang, no longer hesitating over the oddness of the tune or the words. He sang the song with confidence from beginning to end.
“Excellent,” Jedidiah said. He stepped out of the pavilion and pulled the saurial’s half of the finder’s stone from his boot.
Jedidiah uttered some words completely unknown to Joel. Then he began singing a scale, each note perfect and distinct, his voice rising over and over again. As he sang, his body began to steam, just as it had when Joel had watched him store his power into his own half of the finder’s stone. Now, instead of blue, the steam was a myriad of colors, ranging through the whole spectrum, as if a rainbow were flowing from his body and being sucked up by the stone.
Joel watched in fascination until Jedidiah swayed and nearly fell forward into the pond. The young bard leapt up and steadied his god with his hands on his arms. Jedidiah looked exhausted. He also looked old—not as old as when Joel had first met him, but older than he had appeared moments ago. There was something else odd about him. Somehow, to the young priest, he no longer seemed like Finder.