Queen of the Demonweb Pits

mouth. He dropped the hole and stared at Henry in concern.

'Son! What's wrong, son? You look pale!' The badger squinted. 'Is that a crystal ball?'

'Quick-I think I've got something. Open the hole!'

The badger flipped open the hole like a sheet of canvas and laid it on the ground. Henry slithered over the edge and down into the gloomy space within, smelling sickness and fever in the air. He lit a lantern from the sealed box of supplies, then ran across the grass bedding to kneel between Enid and the Justicar.

Jus was awake, his shaven head sheened with sweat. Henry laid Cinders down beside him and used the hell hound's fur to steady the helmet full of liquid. The Justicar groped a pale hand over to Henry and held the boy by the arm.

'H-Henry? What's… h-happening?'

'All be fixed soon, sir. All soon.' Henry had scrounged a bandage, then unsheathed Benelux. 'Lie still. I think I can fix it all.'

Henry held Benelux, winced, and bared his arm. Alarmed, the magic sword gave a rapid pulse of light. I say! Steady on! No need to suicide!

'It's not suicide!' Henry cut himself on the arm-didn't do it right and swore as he had to cut himself again. This time the cut ran fast with blood. He held his arm over the helmet full of liquid and let his blood drip and mingle, watching anxiously as the liquid swirled.

There was a flash, and the fluid in Henry's helmet turned a faint, pale blue-a healthy color, cool and soothing. Henry stared at it, then took a breath and jammed his little finger into the brew. He kept his eyes shut tight, expecting to have his finger burned to the bone.

The only sensation was a cool tingle, and a sense of peace and calm.

Henry worked fast. He tore away Jus's bandages, oblivious to the pain it caused, then slopped a measure of the blue liquid over the wound. Blood hissed, and the big man spasmed. The wound closed right before Henry's eyes, the skin looking healthier by the second. Henry struggled to his feet and ran over to Escalla. He poured blue fluid over her injured leg and side, then over her poor burned wings. The last of the liquid went over Enid's back, covering her burns and regenerating them. Henry tossed his helmet away and wrapped a bandage about his injured arm.

None of his patients were awake. They slept, but at least they were sleeping in peace. Wounds knitted with magical speed-infected flesh turning peaceful and healthy once again. Henry leaned against the wall of the portable hole and closed his eyes as relief flooded through his soul.

'Polk, I think I did it! We can go!'

The entrance to the hole suddenly closed, sealing out the faint light from above. Henry blinked, then sat down and held on tight as he felt Polk grab the hole and begin to move.

In the torture chamber above, Polk dived into his hiding place and stared. Emerging slowly and relentlessly from the gateway tunnel, there came a savage figure. A tarnished golden eagle helm over a cadaverous skull emerged first, and it was soon followed by the rest of the armored body, lurching on the stump of one foot. The monster paused as it looked carefully over the room. Polk froze, not daring even to breathe as the undead creature sniffed for a scent.

Distant echoes of laughter came from the caverns, and Recca turned. His blood-red sword glowed in the gloom, and the apparition was gone. Polk unfolded the hole and let Henry emerge. The two of them crept to the tunnel mouth and stared after the undead monster.

Polk and Henry fled back through the magic gate. Their last strand of gold hair flashed, and an instant later they were running out among the trees. A cold dawn was creeping over the Flanaess, bringing with it the distant smells of blazing homes.

13

'Fetch! Fetch the stick!' Escalla's voice bubbled, bright and gay. Morning sun streamed across Jus's eyes as he lay on something soft. 'Come on! Just try!'

Cinders can't run.

'So fly!'

Cinders can't fly.

'Sure you can! Just jump and forget to come down.' Escalla threw another stick. 'So-o-o-o.. .fetch!'

The stick thudded onto bare soil somewhere to Jus's left. He became aware of a little bottom-a rather pert and silky one-perched on his stomach. He opened one eye and cautiously felt his sword wound, but he found nothing but his own smooth skin.

Then he felt other smooth skin. Jus lifted his head and saw Escalla-unblemished and perfect-sitting on him in her leggings, long gloves, and little skirt. She rested one hand on his hairy chest and looked down at him with a smile.

'Hey, J-man!'

'Hello.' The Justicar levered himself up into a sitting position, moving cautiously, but finding no pain. 'You look healed.'

'All better.' Escalla stood and turned a pirouette. 'See? No one touches the faerie!' She bowed, her eyes directing Jus's gaze off to one side. 'The kid does good work.'

They both looked over at Henry. The party sat in a dense thicket of brush-a place as deliberately nondescript as the Justicar could ever have wanted. A little way away, Henry sat beside Enid, helping the freckled sphinx to plait and bead her hair. Henry saw that Jus was awake, and he blushed as he gave the man a wave, turning back to his job while Enid flexed her claws and purred.

Cinders lay beside Jus on the dirt, his fur brushed and a few new rents in his hide. As he saw Jus, Cinders drummed his tail against the ground.

Hello!

'Cinders, you helped Henry?'

Cinders help! Fun! Went to where had faerie lives and wore big disguise!

'Henry did good.' Escalla settled herself in the crook of Jus's arm, sitting easily and lovingly against his chest. 'Seems he and Polk had an adventure.'

'We'll let Henry tell it.' The Justicar rubbed his eyes. 'It'll make him feel ten feet tall.'

Escalla turned a little smile. 'We'll let him tell it with Enid there to hang on every word.'

In the end, Henry told the story three times, end to end-once with Polk beside him supplying embellishments and once in private with Jus and Escalla, filling in the concise details. Finally, he told it again in private to a wide- eyed, admiring Enid, who did indeed hang on every word.

The party kept on the move but stopped for frequent rests. Jus felt hale and hearty, perfectly unscratched. He marched in silent meditation, fixing spells in his mind. Perched on his shoulders, Escalla flipped through pages of her spellbooks doing exactly the same. She wore reading glasses that made her look deliciously prim-an image at odds with her leather skirt and cleavage line. As the party descended a ridge, she lowered her glasses down her little nose.

'Give me another five minutes, and I'll have a spell up to block the crystal ball. That lets us go on the offensive.'

His unloaded crossbow slung, Henry looked back at the faerie.

'We're going on the offensive?'

Oh, indeed. Having insisted on returning to Jus's sword belt, Benelux glowed with self-satisfaction. Offensive action is the only heroic course. Sir Polk would clearly agree.

'What? Oh, sure!' Polk waddled along. 'That's the heroic thing to do! The tactical thing. We turn on the hand that bit us!'

Escalla glared at Polk and snapped her spellbook shut. 'To Baator with that! I'm getting Tielle, tattooing her