Brimstone Angels

“Is that … like a herd of aboleths?” Farideh asked.

“It’s what controls them.” He shook his head. “Or something. Look, aboleths aren’t like regular creatures. They’re … they know things. And what one knows, they all know. Their memories are shared. The Sovereignty is like the mind that steers things. Maybe.” He sighed. “I’m not explaining it well, but I don’t know if anyone can explain it well. People aren’t supposed to know these things.”

“I quite agree,” Lorcan said.

“Why would Rohini be dealing with aboleths of any sort?” Farideh asked.

“Because,” Lorcan replied, “the archduchess of the Sixth Layer said to. That’s all you need to know.”

Farideh twisted the ends of her hair. “Then maybe she’s making a pact of some sort with the Abolethic Sovereignty?”

“No,” Brin said. “I mean, I don’t think so. They don’t make treaties. They don’t make pacts. I don’t even think they talk to other powers. They don’t think like anything else does. It would be like you making an agreement with a tree. Why would you? The tree doesn’t have anything you couldn’t just take, and the tree can’t use anything you could give it.”

“And,” Lorcan added, “making treaties is not Glasya’s style. She does things on her own, and your aboleths couldn’t take what they’d like from her.”

Farideh frowned. Why bother trying to please a monster if the creature wasn’t a threat to you, wasn’t an ally for you, and didn’t have something you wanted? After all, what would an archdevil do with a sea monster’s treasures?

“Would she want their memories?” she asked Brin. “That’s what you said, right? They share their memories? So if you were able to read the memories of one?”

“You’d have a million years of memories,” he said, “starting with the first aboleths. And … I don’t know what’s true about them, but I’ve heard they absorb the memories of those they eat as well. That might be a sailor’s tale, but … even devils can swallow sailor’s tales, right?”

“So if you chose the right aboleth,” Farideh said, “you could know anything.”

“But you’d have to get to their memories,” Brin said. “And they’re too powerful. They look like dumb beasts maybe, but you can’t match their minds.”

“You don’t have to match their minds,” Lorcan said. “You have to possess them.” He ran his hands through his hair. “And then you can also control them. You can make them consume anyone you like. Anyone they could best.”

“No,” Brin said. “They’re too powerful-”

“As powerful as a princess of the Hells?” Lorcan snapped. “There are those who worship Glasya as a god. Regardless of what your Sovereignty can or cannot do to her, she will make them reconsider their supremacy.”

It was plausible, Farideh thought. Though it seemed an awful lot of trouble … an awful lot of risk for something that might come to nothing at all. She shook her head. Maybe Lorcan was right. Maybe it was foolhardy to puzzle out the motives of archdevils. Maybe Glasya was the reckless one.

His eyes met Farideh’s. “Darling, you have to agree this is far over any of our heads. Archdevils and aboleths? What do you think to do against that?”

He was right, of course; she was not a match for an aboleth. Against Glasya’s plans, she would be no more an obstacle than a pebble in the road.

“Nothing,” she said. “But now we know better how to distract Rohini while we rescue Mehen.”

“And even if you get to him, darling, she has him dominated. He won’t come willingly. Better for you to think of him as dead.”

“What your orc couldn’t do?” she said bitterly. His eyes hardened. “We’re going back for Mehen.”

“Fine,” he said. “Break your own heart. Go see Mehen’s not coming back. But don’t try to stop Glasya’s plans. I beg you. You cannot stand against her. None of you can.”

“Can you?” Havilar asked.

“I’m not stupid enough to try,” he said. He scanned the street again. “What about the Ashmadai?” Farideh said.

Lorcan gave another of those hopeless sounding laughs. “Avoid them too.”

“They thought the Glasyans were after them. Is that Rohini’s doing?”

“Why are you trying to puzzle all of this out?” Lorcan cried. “There’s nothing to be gained by knowing what the plans of archdevils are. It’s only going to draw their eyes. We shouldn’t even be guessing at what Rohini is tasked with.”

“I’m trying to figure out what we should be doing before your fifty-eight half-sisters show up along with Rohini and her karshoji-possessed aboleths, and tear this city to the ground.” She fought the urge to threaten him with the rod again. “You’re the one who brought up Ashmadai before. You’re the one who claimed we were in the middle of a Hellish civil war. You’re the one demanding I get out of Neverwinter safely, so help me. Tell me what we’re dealing with.”

But Lorcan merely clamped his mouth shut and shook his head emphatically.

“Fine.” Farideh turned her back to him. “We need to get back to the hall and to Mehen. Without running into any more devils.”

“And we have to undo what Rohini’s done to Mehen,” Havilar added. She looked up at Lorcan. “Does he know how to do that?”

“We try things until they work,” Farideh answered. “Starting with Brin’s magic.”

“No,” Brin said. “I’m not strong enough … you need a more powerful priest than me.”

“Luckily this place is lousy with priests,” Havilar said. “Tam is somewhere here, isn’t he?”

Farideh pursed her lips. “He said to meet him outside the South Gate. We don’t have time to find him.”

“You have to,” Brin said. “Unless you have powerful potions up your sleeves?”

“A present from your lousy priest?” Lorcan muttered.

“What sort of potions?” Farideh asked. “A potion of vitality? Would that do it?”

“Well … yes,” Brin said. He squinted at her. “Where did you get a potion of vitality?”

“I don’t have one,” Farideh said. “But Yvon did. There’s one on the shelf of the shop.”

“The Ashmadai place?” Havilar said.

Lorcan snorted. “How terribly safe.”

Farideh ignored him. “It’ll be fine. They’re all dead, remember?”

“Not by a long shot.”

Farideh glared at Lorcan. “I’m sorry, I thought you didn’t want to puzzle this out. Have you got something to add?”

He regarded her a long moment, as if he did, as if he wanted to spell out what she was missing. But he turned resolutely to the window. “Don’t say you’re sorry when you’re not.”

“What do you mean they aren’t all dead?” Havilar demanded. “Farideh said we killed them all.”

Lorcan paused, as if he didn’t want to say. “The Ashmadai are as numerous as termites in Neverwinter. And now they’re angry. If Rohini left even one alive, scads of them are now looking for the two of you.”

Farideh cursed. Why did Lorcan always have to be right? Aboleths and cultists of Asmodeus, and devils serving Glasya-you’re being stubborn if you stay here, she thought. Nothing but stubborn.

“Fine,” Farideh said. “We need one to go get the potion and one to get Mehen out of the temple. Brin, you’re the one the Ashmadai haven’t seen. You break into the shop.” She looked at Havilar and bit her lip. The worst of her shock had subsided, but she was still looking drawn and nervous. Farideh couldn’t ask Havilar to come anywhere near Rohini, not if the succubus might possess her again.

“Can you go with him?” she asked. “He’ll need someone to guard him.”

Havilar nodded once. “And I’m fast,” she said, half to herself. “I can get there quick and be back to meet you-”

“No,” Farideh said. “We meet by the gate. If something happens, you can’t be caught.” She hesitated a moment and turned to Brin. “Keep up if you can, heal her if the bandage doesn’t hold. I’ll bring Mehen to you.”

Brin glanced up at Lorcan. “Is he going with you?”

“No,” Farideh said, just as Lorcan answered, “Yes.”

“No,” she said again, “you aren’t.”