The impressive main hall had 30-yard-high vaulted ceilings supported by ornate marble pillars. Gargantuan, intricate stained-glass windows glowed with the light of the full moon outside. Layna sat on an equally enormous throne overlooking the hall while four stern Arachne sat on either side of her, on smaller thrones arranged in a semicircle, a level below Layna but a level above us. We were requested to stand on the floor below them.
“State your name and the reason you are appearing before this Council of Aith,” an Arachne man demanded in a reedy, nasal voice. Like all the Arachne, he was tall, skinny, and long-limbed. While there were streaks of gray in his black hair, his face looked youthful.
“I am Lord Vance Chauzec, God of Death,” I boomed. “And I am here to request passage for my army through your city. I ask nothing else of you—no gold, no supplies, no alliances—but to pass through Aith on my way elsewhere.”
“You understand that such requests, humble as they may seem, are not granted lightly.”
“I understand this,” I said, doing my best to stay cool and collected despite the Arachne’s blatant arrogance and the haughty sneers his compatriots were firing at me and my friends. “When I have explained what my intentions are once my army and I have traveled beyond your fair city, you will understand why my request must be granted.”
“I hope you realize,” the Arachne said with a mocking grin, “that every traveler who comes here begging for passage tells us the exact same thing. All think that their reasons are of great importance. We, however, as you may have gathered, usually disagree. You are no different. Whether you be god or mortal.”
While the snooty fuckbrain was saying all of this, a thought popped into my head. How the hell had my uncle and his followers convinced this Arachne Council to allow them passage through Aith? Sure, Rodrick was a smooth talker, an expert in flattery and a first-class liar, but those things alone would not have been enough to convince this council. It sounded like they had already made their minds up about our case, yet somehow, they had let my uncle and his followers stroll through? It would be an understatement to say I was suspicious.
“You will allow me to present my case?” I asked, keeping my composure.
“Go ahead, Lord Chauzec. We are all ears.”
So I did—I told them my whole story in painstaking detail, even going back to the moment I became a necromancer and defeated Bishop Nabu, making sure my tone was calm and reasonable. Needless to say, my mention of Isu made the council exchange a few surprised looks. I did not, however, tell them she was right here in the hall with them. As before, she had her hood pulled low over her head, covering her face.
Despite their snooty attitude, the Arachne Council listened carefully. While I could see worry etched plainly across Layna’s face as I explained the dangers facing Aith if we didn’t reach the Blood Temple in time, the members of the council remained stony-faced. When I finished relating my insane journey, they whispered among themselves for a long while. Eventually, the one who seemed to be the speaker turned to me.
“As is our custom, we will discuss the matter among ourselves this evening. You will have your answer tomorrow.”
Suddenly, Isu stepped forward. “No,” she stated, “you will give us your answer now.”
“How dare you?” the Arachne man gasped. “Such an act of disrespect and insolence cannot—”
Before he could finish his sentence, Isu threw her hood back, revealing her face to the Council of Aith. They all jumped up from their seats, their jaws all but hitting the floor. Above them, Layna—who had known all along that Isu was here—looked on with a smirk. She and this council seemed to have butted heads a number of times in the past, and she seemed more than happy to see them making fools of themselves.
“She has returned,” a council member gasped. “The Great Queen of Aith has returned!”
“It cannot be,” another murmured.
There was a larger-than-life statue of Isu in the hall, so not even the most self-serving of these wretches could deny it was her standing before them.
“I wrote the law stating the Council should take a night to deliberate over important decisions,” Isu said, “so I have the power to overturn it. And that’s exactly what I’m doing.”
The Arachne council huddled together, arguing in hushed, urgent tones. There seemed to be two opposing camps, one with a clear majority. Still gathered together and whispering, they voted—the arrogant speaker’s side won. He turned and fixed Isu with an icy stare, his mouth curved into a mocking sneer.
“You abandoned this city and cursed us,” he said. “And as much as some of my esteemed colleagues believe that your return heralds the coming of a new golden age for Aith, more of my colleagues disagree. Even though you were once a great ruler, the best Aith has ever had, according to the old legends, you committed the worst crime a ruler can commit. You cursed and abandoned us. You could say the good and bad balance each other out, but you would be wrong. In our esteemed opinion, it is far more prudent to avoid another curse than gain the possibility of a new golden age.”
“I did not abandon you!” Isu roared. “I only cursed you fools because you abandoned me. You forced me to abdicate in favor of that airheaded Lucielle. She ran the city into the ground and destroyed all of the progress of my rule with her obnoxious vanity and self-obsession. This same malady spread to the people of Aith, who, after swallowing that moron’s false promises, threw me out. That’s why I cursed you. You abandoned me,
