deva’s expression.
“Just go!” Demascus yelled. If the exit had been even twenty feet farther, Chant would’ve been right. As it was, dozens of tiny spiders launched themselves from the swarm crest before Demascus, bringing up the rear and plunging into the orange-misted portal. They lit on his arms, head, and back, and began biting. He swatted and rolled as he spilled through the transition into the courtyard.
Then the spiders were gone, as if they’d been scraped away. But their wounds remained. He scratched at a welter of red bumps on his forearm, eyeing the portal. If the swarm billowed out, the courtyard would be instantly swamped.
“Those creatures,” said Arathane between big breaths, “weren’t real. They were manifestations of the Demonweb. Those spiders simply don’t exist outside Lolth’s portal network.”
“You hope,” said Chant. Then he blushed, and added, “Your Majesty.”
“I guess we’ll see,” said Riltana, who was already on the far side of the courtyard. “Maybe the rest of you should come and stand by me, just in case.”
Everyone shuffled over to the windsoul. The portal remained quiescent for another span of heartbeats. Just a quiet arch filled with colorful mist.
Demascus said, “Your Majesty? You’d better take this.” He handed her the staff.
The queen received the arambarium relic with solemn dignity. “Demascus-all of you-Akanul owes you a great debt.”
Riltana smiled. A laugh escaped Demascus as he regarded the scene. What did it say about him that nearly everyone he called a friend in Airspur had only a nodding acquaintance with the rule of law? On the other hand, being on speaking terms with the queen of the entire country balanced out that particular equation, with coin to spare.
Arathane continued, “It appears no spiders or dark-elf assassins are going to immediately rush out of the portal. But I won’t have such a vile passage in my land. Demascus, could I ask you one more favor?”
“Of course.”
“Stand guard over the portal mouth until I return, with a company of Akanul sappers and elite peacemakers. We’ll collapse this entire cave and portal so that nothing can ever use it again.”
Demascus said, “I’ll watch over it. But hurry. I’m so tired I’m starting to hallucinate that I’m sleeping, not talking. Riltana, would you go with the queen, escort her out of the Catacombs?”
Arathane smiled at him and winked. He did a doubletake; had that been real or an invention of his tired mind? The queen whirled, all her stately grace back in full measure. “Would you do me the honor?” she asked the windsoul.
Riltana said, “Love to. Demascus and Chant can handle things here without me. I can’t wait to get out of this stink hole.”
“Wonderful,” Arathane said. “We’ll be back within two hours, no more.” She and Riltana left, the queen cradling the broken staff as if it was an infant.
Chant fidgeted.
“What’s wrong?” asked Demascus.
“I thought Jaul would be waiting for us, is all.”
Right. Chant’s son said he’d stay behind at the portal mouth. But the kid was nowhere to be seen. “Do you think he’s all right?”
Chant rubbed his hands, then sighed. “Yeah, I
Demascus could only nod. No matter how useful Jaul had earlier proved while they’d been out on the island, it seemed he would continue to be a trial to his father.
Chant shook his head as if to clear it. “Anyhow, that’s the second time you’ve come to the aid of the Throne of Majesty. That sort of thing can’t hurt your standing with the queen.”
Demascus nodded, unable to hold back a grin. “But before you get too happy imagining what royal rewards might await, I promised the ghost I’d relay a message.”
Demascus’s face froze. “What?”
“She said that if you survived this escapade, you were to come by the Copperhead and ask for her.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I wouldn’t joke about something like this. You know that.”
“Sorry. I just … you caught me off-guard. So, the Copperhead? What’s that?”
The pawnbroker just shrugged.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Fragrant smoke greeted Demascus as he entered the Copperhead. He’d learned it was a tavern that specialized in tabac, not ale. Either way, it seemed like an odd place for a ghost to haunt.
He wondered if his friends had misunderstood Madri.
He scanned the hazy chamber. Scents of apple, cedar, jasmine, and tabac swirled above the gurgle of bubbling water. Relaxed expressions softened the faces of the patrons. It was all somehow familiar to Demascus. As if he’d been here before. Or someplace remarkably similar. Madri, however, wasn’t here.
“Sir?” said a young earthsoul. “If you step over here, I can fit you with a pipe. Have you ever-”
“I’m looking for a woman. A human. Her name is Madri,” said Demascus.
The server blinked as if seeing the deva for the first time. “I have a message for someone answering to your description.”
“What?” Demascus felt his face grow warm.
The server held up a placating finger, then pointed to an empty table along the wall. “Only this-if someone fitting your description shows up, that you should have a seat and wait right there.”
“For how long?”
“Until Madri shows up.”
“Do you know her?” said Demascus, stepping closer.
The server’s eyes widened and his hands went up. Demascus realized he’d raised his voice. But he didn’t much care.
“Answer me,” he said.
“I don’t! She … she comes here sometimes! Sort of just shows up, you know? Last time I saw her, she gave me this message. That’s all!”
“When did she give it to you?”
“Two days ago. I haven’t seen her since. I swear!”
“I believe you. I just … haven’t seen my friend for a while.”
The server looked at him, then flicked his gaze to the sword scabbards on the deva’s belt. The kid was worried Demascus was going to draw on him. Great. He’d just guaranteed himself terrible service henceforward at the Copperhead. He took a seat where the server indicated and waited.
No one came by to offer him a water pipe.
Three days had passed since Chant had relayed Madri’s message. Sealing the portal by collapsing the cave had come off without a hitch, thanks to the skills of a cadre of earthsoul sappers. Demascus was pretty sure no drow or other fell influence had seeped through before it was shut. Hopefully for good.
Arathane had explained that the arambarium relic had been remanded to a vault beneath Airspur Palace. When asked if anyone in the queen’s court had managed to convert it back to its original shape, the monarch had replied that they were still working on it.
Then Arathane had handed Riltana a scroll. She said it was a copy of what she’d sent to a mutual friend in
