past Japheth and exited the room of his long confinement.
The warlock followed the Lord of Bats down into the grand study, wondering if he was allowing the archfey too much autonomy.
Neifion stood in the center of the ornamental chamber and stretched, grinning around with undisguised glee.
'It's good to see my collections again.'
Japheth moved to a large overstuffed leather chair and threw himself down. He was exhausted. It was good to sit.
The Lord of Bats snapped his fingers. Something in the wall shifted, and a wrinkled homunculus crawled out of a hole in the wainscoting. Neifion, his grin still intact, said, 'Fetch me some real food!'
The creature scampered off down the main stairs without a glance at Japheth. The skin on the warlock's face tightened. Should he gainsay Neifion's request? No. The oath Neifion swore didn't prevent the creature from taking his own initiative. However, commanding the actions of his old servitors, which was a right Japheth retained, tread dangerously close to a freedom the warlock didn't want to contemplate.
Since he'd gained control of the castle and the Lord of Bats's servitors, Japheth had refrained from calling upon many of the powers that were his due. He'd worried he might wake some resonance between Neifion and an old perquisite of his station powerful enough to shake the creature from his enchanted feast-or worse, from the poorly worded pact that had allowed Japheth to assume control of far more than the Lord of Bats ever meant to allow.
But even if he hadn't feared releasing the Lord of Bats by making free use of the creature's resources, Japheth didn't like to demand service of the homunculi too often. When he did so, he always felt guilty. Their origin was too ghastly.
The little horrors were once humans, or eladrin maybe. Their sad appearance was what was left after the Lord of Bats slaked his soul and blood thirst on each. What remained was a dried-up husk of flesh and spirit, a wrinkled remnant whose mind retained only enough wit to follow the commands of the Lord of Bats and whose body hovered somewhere between life and necromantic animation. Japheth hadn't delved into it closely enough to determine which was the case.
Neifion glanced at Japheth, at Japheth's cloak, then yelled down the stairs after the patter of tiny feet, 'And bring me a suit from my wardrobe! The obsidian ensemble. Don't forget the boots!'
Japheth watched the Lord of Bats move around the chamber, waving his arms and stamping his legs as if to force feeling into them. The enchantment of the Feast Never Ending had kept Neifion preserved against death, obesity, and even the need for a toilet. Regardless, the creature probably was somewhat stiff after having been forced to sit for the last few years, despite his enchanted repast and his own supernatural vigor.
Then an image of Anusha sleeping for tendays came to Japheth and he grimaced. Keeping the girl fed and healthy had required a magical working. Luckily, he'd hit on adapting an aspect of the Feast Never Ending that kept her alive so long as she slept. One more injustice he'd dealt Anusha. At least she wouldn't perish of malnutrition.
After that, he'd spent all his time trying to devise a ritual to free her mind. And now the girl was shorn from him, in Raidon's hands.
Would the half-elf look after her? Yes. The monk was a self-proclaimed hero. He'd appeared out of nowhere to help Anusha free Japheth and the others. Instead of fleeing in the face of almost certain death, like any common person, he'd helped them defeat Gethshemeth.
But now Raidon was apparently working with Captain Thoster and Seren… and those two were likely to toss the girl aside if her care became inconvenient. Then again, perhaps they'd see that keeping her safe was a bargaining chip useful against him. Maybe they'd think they could trade her for the Dreamheart. To do so, they'd have to keep Anusha safe.
Either way, a champion like Raidon would protect Anusha regardless of how the other two might use her to influence Japheth. Right?
He uttered a silent plea to the uncaring gods that Anusha remain secure in his absence.
An ornate device of golden metal squatting in one corner clicked and began to chime, pulling the warlock from his reverie.
The Lord of Bats was still in the chamber He was just shrugging into a stylishly cut black coat, one whose perfectly tailored lines screamed great expense. A homunculus stood to one side, still holding black gloves, a bloodred cravat, and a pair of supple leather boots.
'Neifion,' the warlock said, 'we need to travel down, below the world's crust where no tunnels reach.'
'The world? You want me to cross over to the other side?'
Japheth nodded.
The Lord of Bats cracked a rare smile of pleasure and said, 'I think this new accommodation between us may work out after all.' He adjusted his cravat with hands the color of porcelain. Even when he'd possessed his full complement of power, the creature had a difficult time entering the world without an invitation.
'Passing back into Toril is the least of our tasks. Do you know a way to travel as deeply below ground as I have indicated?'
Neifion put a finger to his chin. 'How did you arrive here still wearing the cloak? Even for one such as I, the skin must be left behind to serve as a bridge.'
Some inner instinct warned Japheth against revealing the relic. 'I utilized, ah, a ritual to provide extra energy. It was enough to pull the far end of the path along with me.'
'Then use the same ritual again, maggot. You managed to travel all the way here with a single step. Shouldn't be any harder to get anywhere else. And I think I would like to learn this ritual for myself. Sounds like an impressive bit of sorcery.' The pale creature in its black noble's garb squinted at Japheth in a speculative fashion.
The more he considered revealing his possession of the Dreamheart to the nearly free-willed Lord of Bats, the worse the idea sounded. He'd do so only if Neifion couldn't provide some other method.
Japheth finally replied, 'I used up the components for that ritual, and I can't procure more without months of searching. We are nearly out of time. I need a quicker option. Do you have any?'
The Lord of Bats brushed some unseen piece of lint from his sleeves. 'I know you're lying to me, 'ally,' but let's leave that for now. I know several other ways to travel, even through water or solid earth should it come to it. In my centuries of existence, many creatures have made pacts with me and yet owe me favors. I know one who will provide the kind of transport you desire.'
'One we can ride safely wherever I direct?'
'Nay, one who will lower us through dimensional barriers in an enchanted planar bell, a trek bell. A trek bell already in my collection. I used it when I sought out one of the fomorian courts, hoping to draw the malformed ones into a pact of mutual convenience.'
'I don't know what a trek bell is. Tell me.'
'That doesn't surprise me, given your atrophied wit. Follow me and you'll find out,' said the Lord of Bats. He walked down the side hall plastered with faded tapestries.
Japheth followed. A couple of homunculi fell in behind, but Japheth shooed them away. The Lord of Bats glanced back and frowned, but held his tongue.
The warlock had ventured down the tapestried passage once after gaining control of the castle. The musty smell of the wall hangings had turned his stomach, and he abandoned his exploration after opening three or four doors onto rooms heaped with nameless detritus. Neifion marched to a door about halfway down the hall. It slammed open with the Lord of Bats's merest touch, sending echoes down the corridor. He glanced back and nodded. 'I keep many interesting things back here.
Some quite lethal. It's fortunate you never poked around back here without me. Heh. Fortunate for you, I mean.'
Japheth followed the archfey into a high chamber thick with the odor of mildew and old rot. Objects whose true shapes were shrouded beneath oilskin tarps cluttered the space.
Neifion wound his way to the chamber's far end, where a large article stood alone beneath a swath of fabric.
With a showman's flourish, Neifion whipped away the tarp.
