was high time that the night hags had a new queen. Infestix would inform them of his choice later.
“Emperor?” The hesitant word came from the lord of the dreggals, reluctant to interrupt his lord’s musings but anxious to know if his continued attendance was required. Infestix set his gaze on Weyzeneal for a minute. Then he turned away and stared at the massive, hideous face of the demodand. “It is not so much a matter, one in ten thousand. It is the Abyss which troubles me. Those brawling tubs of excrement will never be useful!”
“I am a demodand, overlord, not a sovereign lord of demonkind,” Utmodoch replied defensively. “I have much Influence amongst the strongest of the princes of the Abyss, of course,” the ghastly being hastened to add so as to assure Infestix of his value, “but the stupidity and worthlessness of demons is legendary.”
“See that you maintain your influence, and use it correctly,” the overlord of the nether planes replied in his hollow, menacing voice. “One way or another, I will succeed. Fail me naught, either of you.” Nothing further needed to be uttered, for both knew the consequences of incurring the wrath of this being.
“Gehenna will be unrelenting in pursuit of your purpose,” the dreggal king intoned.
Utmodoch dropped to his knees, saying, “Tarterus will serve by sussing out and destroying all who attempt to stand in competition to you, overlord.”
The cadaverous daemon seemed satisfied with that homage and those promises. “I will send you to your respective places now. Report the least thing to me personally. Nothing regarding this matter must escape my scrutiny. Hear me and obey.”
Before they could reply, Infestix touched a diagram before him and spoke a word. The demodand and the dreggal king vanished.
Weaklings, both of them, thought Infestix. Better that He should be served by the Infernal Dukes, despite their machinations. Let Tharizdun come, and He, Infestix, would gladly stand to be weighed in evil-ness and ability against any of those order-headed devils. In the interim, their strict routine and meticulous methods would serve well to promote the one worthwhile goal that would end the factiousness of Evil for all time and make it paramount in the multi-verse forever.
Chapter 3
“Your hair is lovely this evening, mistress,” the serving girl said as she held up the mirror.
Meleena peered into the glass and turned her head slowly from side to side, scrutinizing every detail of her coiffure that she could see. The sapphires in the comb that adorned her rich, chestnut-hued tresses matched her eyes perfectly. At last she smiled and motioned the girl away, completely pleased with herself and her situation. New servant, new wardrobe, new jewelry… a new life!
“Fetch my fur-trimmed cloak, girl,” Meleena said, trying unsuccessfully to maintain an attitude of aloofness and not give a hint of the secret pleasure she felt inside. “I will be going to the Citadel tonight,” she added, every word exuding happiness and pride. Thanks to Wanno, there was every likelihood that young Lord Roland would notice her this very evening. In addition to providing her with clothing, jewelry, and a great sum of gold, some of which she had spent to attain her new station, the mage had promised to use his power and Influence to bring her to Roland’s attention. Although she had not seen Wan-no for several days, she had no reason to doubt that he would be true to his word. Meleena was certain that she would soon be someone in the city.
“Here is your cloak, my lady,” the serving girl said happily. It was evident she shared the glory of her new mistress this night as she spoke. “There is a litter waiting outside too,” she gasped breathlessly, “with two linkboys and a guardsman!”
At that Meleena could no longer help herself. She smiled and hugged the thin girl, “Isn’t it wonderful?” she said with a little giggle. Then, recalling her new station, Meleena quickly released her servant and stepped back, once again a cold and important lady. “Sleep on the rug by the hearth, for if I happen to return late tonight I might need you.”
“Yes’m,” the girl replied as she opened the outer door for her mistress to depart. She was pleased at the prospect, for her usual bed-place had no warm fire to add comfort to the hard floor. After shutting and latching the door, the girl quickly tidied her new mistress’ bedchamber and went to her assigned place by the embers. Thinking that no one would notice, she added a few big chunks of coal to the fire and snuggled down on the thick rug.
She felt a bit guilty about using the coal, for she was a devout person and the deity she worshiped would not have condoned such an action. But she did, after all, deserve what little comfort she could procure for herself, so long as she did not hurt someone else in the process. She would be able to sleep for several hours, undisturbed and toasty. This was luxury indeed, she said to herself as she drifted off to sleep, clutching the symbol of her faith that she wore around her neck.
Meleena was thinking similar thoughts as the bearers carried her hooded chair along toward the fortress that was the governmental heart of Grey-hawk Before her great good fortune of the last few days, she had been merely one of the many maids-in-waiting amid the welter who served the oligarchs. As the orphaned daughter of a petty landowner and unsuccessful merchant, she had been fortunate to get even so lusterless a position as that.
Wanno, the Master of Magics to the Oligarchs of Greyhawk, had first seen her by chance at the Halls, when she had come to protest the annexation by the city of her father’s property upon his death. Initially Meleena had thought the weird old man was lusting after her, but the mage had not so much as laid a finger on her. Wanno had simply silenced her useless protests to the unsympathetic clerk, taken her to another building nearby, and informed the functionary there that he should give her immediate status as a waiting maid to the oligarchs. The fellow had done just that after Wanno had presented him with the mage’s own writ, and hied himself quickly to the task too. Spell-binders were not noted for their patience with petty bureaucrats.
Although he had spoken to her seldom over the next few months, Wanno had certainly kept track of her. This Meleena knew because of the little hints given to her by others in the same station within the Citadel. Like her, they were quartered in dreary lodgings in the Halls District and had to come to the fortress center of the city every day to await instructions as to their duties. Usually there was nothing to do save attending some oligarch’s wife, seeing to an important female visitor, or serving dainties at a feast or function. In truth, she and the others were nothing more than glorified serving wenches themselves, and but slight the glorification at that. Meleena flushed with indignation as she thought about how she had been ordered about, humiliated, and often degraded during that time.
Then, one day, Wanno had summoned her to his own quarters and questioned her at length. There were many bubbling retorts and smoking pots and braziers in the place. The fumes muzzied her. Meleena recalled, and the bloodshot eyes of Wanno had bored Into her brain.
Afterward the mage had been kinder still, and certainly friendlier. During this meeting, Wanno had informed Meleena that she was soon going to have to care for the little son of her deceased cousin Ermantrude. Try as she might, Meleena could not recall ever having heard of Ermantrude-nor, for that matter, of her mother’s sister, someone whom Wanno referred to as her Aunt Una. However, Wanno convinced Meleena that he had researched her family history, through means that only an accomplished mage such as he could command, and he had found that she was assuredly the infant’s only known relative. Meleena could hardly remember her own mother, who had died when she herself was a babe, so she scarcely wondered that she had trouble recalling her Aunt Una and her cousin Ermantrude. Once she had gotten over the surprise of hearing all this information for the first time, Meleena readily assented to taking charge of the child-and Wanno had been mightily pleased at that.
As part of his final preparations for Meleena’s assumption of her new responsibility, Wanno had sent word to another official in the Citadel, and soon she had been moved from a waiting maid to a position as Lady and Ward of the Lord Mayor. No more daily drudgery, only occasional summonses to official functions where Meleena would sit at table with those of rank and high station. This very night was her first such occasion-her coming-out, as it were.
Good things come in threes, it was said. Meleena was convinced that, for her, it was so-the babe, her newly exalted station, and the means to maintain and enjoy that status. And all of it revolved around the efforts of the kindly old mage. Wanno told her that he had taken the time and trouble to personally investigate the circumstances surrounding her cousin’s death, and the case was worse even than her own, where property rightfully hers had been taken by the powers that governed Greyhawk.
In Meleena’s own case, Wanno told her, he had come on the scene too late to help. But luckily, he had found
