But he s dark fey, isn t he? Vandar asked. Which means a creature in his service is the last person we should trust.
If you know anything about fey, said Zyl, dark or otherwise, you know we keep a bargain or a promise. And I swear by Lurue s horn that if you free me and heal me, I ll help you perform whatever foolhardy task you came to accomplish.
Cera looked to Aoth. We shouldn t leave any creature in such a plight, she said.
Vandar hefted his knife. With respect, lady, I don t intend to, the beserker replied.
Zyl kept his eyes fixed on Aoth. I truly can help, he said. And you ve fought alongside fouler things than me in your time.
Aoth smiled a crooked smile. I don t know how you know that, but it s true, he said. Vandar, you ve already got a knife out, so you can cut that wire around his feet. Cut him, too, if he tries to bite or run.
Scowling, the Rashemi got Zyl down and laid him on a table amid a scatter of bread crumbs and scraps of yellow fungus. Cera murmured a prayer that set her hand aglow and gently pressed her fingers to the rodent s ghastly wound.
Afterward, the raw, vacant space didn t look any different. But Zyl did. He rose to his feet with renewed energy and said, Thanks. Now it s your turn, fire spirit. If you cool down the coals and the pot, I ll thank you, too.
Jhesrhi aimed her staff and threw a flare of frost at the cauldron and the hearth. Steam puffed into being as cold met hot.
Zyl jumped off the table, ran across the floor, sprang on the rim of the cauldron, and dropped inside. Over the course of the next few moments, pieces of rat viscera flew out of the vessel to land with a splat on the gleaming black floor. Aoth watched with slightly squeamish fascination as Zyl jumped back out after the organs, and, rearing onto his hind legs and using his forepaws like hands, stuffed them back inside his body cavity. When he had finished, he pulled his flaps of skin and muscle closed and sealed them with the stroke of a claw. His abdomen bulged and heaved as the organs inside presumably rearranged and reattached themselves.
Zyl looked up and caught everyone staring. I mostly heal pretty well all by myself, he chattered. I just needed a push to get me started. Now, what s this errand you re on?
Aoth told him.
Still peering up from the floor, Zyl cocked his head. He seemed nonplussed, as if he hadn t just been hanging helpless with his guts stewing on the other side of the kitchen. That might not be so easy, he said.
Well, said Aoth, you ve been spying. If you already know the information we re after, you can simply share and save us all some trouble.
Unfortunately, I don t, replied the rat.
So Let me think
We ve stayed in this one spot too long already, Vandar said.
Patience, berserker, Zyl said, I don t tell you how to slice your own flesh and foam at the mouth. Zyl looked back at Aoth. Follow me, he said as he dropped to all fours and headed for an exit.
As they left the kitchen, Jhesrhi waved her hand in the direction of the hearth. Fire leaped up from the coals to set the cauldron boiling again and turn any leftover frost or water to vapor.
If you re such an able spy, Vandar asked, how did they catch you?
They didn t, said Zyl. They caught a common rat. If they d caught me, knowing it was me, I would have been hanging in a torture chamber, not the slaves larder.
Still, Cera said, shifting her grip on her gilded mace, how did they get you?
To you, healer, I ll confess they found me passed out drunk, Zyl said. When their masters aren t looking, the goblins distill a liquor from table scraps, toadstools, and such. It s foul, but I ve been in Lady Grontaix s home a long time. I d go mad if I didn t take a little pleasure when I had the chance. Now, hush, everyone. We re making too much noise.
Aoth thought the rat was right, and so, though he was full of questions, he allowed Zyl to lead them stalking onward in silence. At one point, a cyclops warrior appeared up ahead, but he evidently couldn t see far enough in the gloom to spot the intruders. Aoth whispered, Freeze, his companions obeyed, and the hulking creature disappeared down a branching passage without ever realizing anything was amiss.
By degrees, the tunnels and the chambers they connected became more and more rough and irregular, and showed fewer and fewer signs of use, until the intruders were essentially traversing natural cavern. Zyl stopped in front of an opening as broad as Aoth s hand that ran up from the floor to as high as the human s knee.
This, said the rat, is the tunnel I use to spy on the mistress of the house. Don t worry, it s big enough for humans on the other side of the hole.
Maybe, said Vandar. But can we break through the wall without making enough noise to bring every cyclops in the place down on top of us?
The fire spirit can, Zyl replied.
Frowning, Jhesrhi said, That s true. Just give me room to work.
Everyone else stood back while she positioned herself in front of the appropriate section of wall. She recited words of power in one of the tongues of the earth elementals, her high clear voice managing the hard consonants and rasping inhuman sounds without a fumble. For a moment, the folds of her patched, stained cloak and the strands of her golden hair stirred as though a jealous wind was tugging at them in a plea for her attention.
The wall split from the small hole upward, grinding and crunching. Beyond it, an entirely natural tunnel twisted away. The floor humped up and down. In some places, the walls pinched inward, and in others, the ceiling dipped low enough so that a human would have to stoop to pass beneath it.
Does it get anymore cramped than this? Aoth asked.
Some, Zyl replied. But I promise, you can all squirm through if you try.
It turned out he was right, although at one point, the way narrowed into such a tight bottleneck that Aoth wondered if anyone but Jhesrhi would be able to wriggle through without leaving armor behind. Then it occurred to him to conjure a coating of grease into being on the surface of the stone, to make it easier to worm one s way through the tight spot, and when Aoth, with his wide shoulders and barrel chest, succeeded, he knew that his companions could, too.
To his relief, the way widened out after that. Not long after, they reached a spot where a small fissure in the wall about four feet up made a natural peephole. A trace of light leaked through from the other side.
Zyl leaped up onto a bulge in the stone just beneath the crack. He rose onto his hind legs, peered through, and then motioned for his companions to do the same. Crouching, Aoth obliged him.
The vault on the other side was a sort of garden of stone, where sculpted trees and flowers, in many cases adorned with leaves, fruit, and blossoms of gold, silver, and some green metal or alloy, rose from the floor. Water splashed in fountains and ran through channels spanned by arching bridges. To human eyes, the bridges seemed anomalously broad and massive. But of course they needed to be to accommodate creatures as big as cyclopes, let alone the mistress to whom they owed their fealty.
Lady Grontaix was lounging in a sort of gazebo, oversized like the bridges, in the center of the vault. Twice as large as any of the five male cyclopes attending her, she had a hairless hide the ugly mottled purple of a bruise, a hunchback, and one eye bigger than the other. The larger one was all amber except for a slit pupil, while the smaller one had a brown iris, a white sclera, and a round pupil.
Aoth had never encountered such a creature before. Choschax had told him she was a fomorian, and as he looked at her, he experienced a sort of division of perception. He considered her one of the most grotesque creatures he d ever seen. But the Feywild invested even her deformity with its own kind of glamour.
Still, if Grontaix herself didn t seem entirely grotesque, Aoth couldn t say the same for her current pastime. Though the cyclops males looked like children in comparison to their enormous lady, their attitude was that of the eager suitors Aoth had watched paying court to some celebrated beauty in places where extravagant gallantry was in vogue. One sat sketching the fomorian in charcoal, another was feeding her mushroom caps, and a third was declaiming what Aoth, though he didn t know the language, assumed to be cyclops love poetry. The poet punctuated the particularly passionate phrases by striking notes from the dulcimer in his lap.
Aoth motioned for his companions to take a look. When it was her turn, Cera whispered, You must be joking.
Ridiculous as it looks, Aoth replied just as softly, don t let it distract you from the fact that those creatures
