that stood before them.
Valefar closed the heavy door behind them, breaking the silence.
“I… I did not see you,” she said after a moment. Her voice was calm. Her deep-set eyes were locked on Sargatanas’ face. Whatever emotion was at play, it was not leveled at him.
“Nor I you… Consort Lilith.” His voice was low.
“You know me?”
“I would hardly say that I know you.” Sargatanas suddenly seemed to realize that he was still grasping her and let go. “I saw you from afar at the opening of the Wargate. That was… nearly five thousand years ago.”
THE WARGATE{9}“And still, you remember me.”
Sargatanas looked down. Eligor saw something ineffable in his lord’s manner that he had never seen before. Only the barest wisps of purple flame wavered upon Sargatanas’ head.
“Yes.”
With that, Eligor thought, Lilith’s face seemed to brighten. She put her hand on Sargatanas’ arm for an instant and then pulled her white skin mantle tighter. She turned to Valefar and smiled.
“It is good to see you again, Valefar. It is Prime Minister, is it not?”
Valefar bowed and nodded. “It is, Consort. Thank you for remembering me. It has been a long time since I was in Dis.”
“Before you left, there were some who thought of you very highly, Val— Prime Minister. Your differences with the court were not universally rejected. But you were fortunate that they did not engender more anger than they did.”
“Of that I am aware.”
She clasped both of his hands tightly and Valefar looked pleased and then a little puzzled. She pivoted to greet Eligor.
“My name is Eligor,” he blurted. And when she laughed, it was so immeasurably unexpected and so pleasant a sound to his ears that he was sure that he betrayed his surprise. He had never heard anything close to genuine laughter in Hell. Sargatanas and Valefar looked nearly as startled as Eligor felt but recovered more quickly.
“I am sorry, Eligor. I meant no offense. It was just… Eligor?” She knit her brow and looked at him strangely.
Eligor, head tilted and mouth slightly agape, was focused on a small fly that had walked from beneath the fold of her skins and was slowly creeping up her thin neck. It was black and the closer he looked the more he was sure that he could see a face—a distorted angelic face—peering back at him.
A giant hand shot past him and plucked the fly from her neck, crushing it into greasy slime between clawed thumb and forefinger. Sargatanas wiped his fingers on the wall, leaving two short, dark streaks. The rasp of his claws echoed in the hall.
Lilith looked startled and then, almost immediately, her face returned to the expression Eligor had first seen. He read it, then read the emotion that had eluded him. It was hatred, veiled but deep, and he saw the weight of it descend like a heavy shadow across her perfect features.
“I must be going. Ardat Lili is waiting…. I told her… I must go now. Safe journey back, to you.”
She walked away, quickening her pace, hastening down the corridor without a backward glance. The three demons, shocked, saw her pale form recede into the shadows and vanish. They knew not to follow her; this was her realm, her prison, and no one knew the ways of it better than her.
They looked silently, solemnly, at one another as they began to move down the hall. A few paces away, Eligor thought he heard the door open, and when he looked back he saw Agares’ head poke out, craning around the doorjamb to examine the short, black smears upon the bricks.
When they were outside the Keep once again, the demons took wing without exchanging a word. Only when they had flown the breadth of Dis, landed, and approached its gate did they speak.
Valefar looked as downcast as Eligor felt, but Sargatanas seemed strangely in good spirits. Eligor shrugged when Valefar glanced at him; both demons had thought their lord would have been filled with anger over their aborted meeting.
Valefar shook his head, a wry look of incredulity written upon his face.
“What is it, my lord?” he said. “Does Hell’s firmament suddenly have a second star?”
“Not a second star, Valefar, but a new moon, pale and beautiful and luminous.” His eyes seemed fixed inward.
And Eligor realized what had happened. Lilith had had an effect far greater upon the Demon Major than either of his companions could have guessed. That distant look spoke volumes.
All three walked in their own astonished silences until they had cleared the Porta Viscera. They stopped just outside the gate.
“We should make all haste back to Adamantinarx,” Sargatanas said, narrowing his eyes as he looked out at the fires on the horizon. “I know Astaroth; he will not wait long to attack.”
“His desperation is like a gnawing beast at his throat,” said Valefar, momentarily distracted. Eligor saw that he was looking at something white in his palm. Before Eligor could get close enough to see it, Valefar had tucked whatever it was into his traveling skins.
Without a backward glance at Dis, the three ascended into the air and banked toward Adamantinarx.
Chapter Ten
The long journey back to Adamantinarx taxed Eligor more than he thought possible; he never thought the trip could be made so rapidly. If anything, the two Demons Major had held back because of him.
The approach to the city was obscure; an eruption to the west had created a vast front of dark ash clouds, and the city was just beginning to feel its arrival.
When Sargatanas, Valefar, and Eligor alighted on a rise outside the city, Adamantinarx was already on a war footing. Zoray had seen to that. Protocol dictated that they be met at the Eastern Gate by an escort contingent of Zoray’s Foot Guard, and the party could see them gathered beyond the wall.
These were the very best of the Household Guard, each stone-gray soldier bearing two curved lava-tempered swords that grew, instead of hands, from his thick wrists.
Zoray’s First Centurion of the Foot Guard stepped forward carrying Sargatanas’ robes of state and bladed scepter, and following him was an imposing line of standard-bearers, each carrying a stretched demon skin upon a pole. Some of the skins retained their owner’s bones, and they clacked together in the hot breeze.
When Sargatanas was before them, adjusting his robes, the assembled soldiers knelt in unison, fists to the ground.
“Are these what I think they are, centurion?” asked Sargatanas, silvered eyes sweeping across their number. The skins’ empty eye sockets gaped back at him.
“Yes, my lord,” he said, kneeling. “The Baron expressed his hope that this display of Astaroth’s spies would please you. It was Zoray’s idea to let him handle the problem. Apparently the skins were removed in ways that —”
“Faraii has been very busy, I can see. As has our venerable neighbor,” Sargatanas interrupted, smiling slightly to Valefar. “Thank the Baron for his diligence and good work, centurion, and have these displayed prominently at each gate.”
“Sire!”
As the centurion departed, three giant soul-beasts were brought up by their white-masked mahouts and the weary demons were helped into their howdahs. From his high vantage Eligor watched as the clay-colored throngs of foot-dragging souls, most of them work-gangs whipped aside by Scourges, crouched against the sides of buildings. The streets were, if anything, more crowded with the additional flow of legionaries streaming out to assembly points outside the city.
