instinctively.
Lissa went white, then reddened, horrified at the prospect yet outraged as his tone. 'Very well, in this… but in this only!'
With that settled, the two spellcasters looked thoughtful as they debated. Like plotters on the stage, they whispered dramatically to each other as they considered various possibilities.
'Pinch,' Sprite asked while they waited, 'if it can be done, what the plan?'
'Plan?
The halfling gave a wan smile. 'Sure, a plan-you've always got a plan.'
If he could have sighed in this musty body, he would have sighed. 'You know, Sprite, all through this game I've had plans and schemes and thought I was in control. Now my life turns out to be one of Manferic's grand plans. Pinch the master planner-hah! Well, Sprite, this time I've got no plan. All my other plans have turned into traps as Manferic twisted my plots around. This time we're just going to improvise and let's see him plan for that.'
'Great plan,' Therin remarked gloomily.
The two spellcasters ended their conference and Maeve spoke for them both.
'About your body, Pinch. We don't know-'
'But there might a chance. If we can get you close enough to you-er, Manferic-I might be able to dispel the magic that holds you.'
'And then?'
Lissa bit her lip. 'I'm not really sure. You should switch bodies.'
'Or?'
'Or both of you vanish into the void, like Manferic said.'
'That's it? Just get this,' Pinch gestured to the rot that was himself, 'into the middle of a coronation and-'
'What was that?' Sprite hissed as he waved his hands for attention.
'What?'
'Quiet. Listen,' the halfling commanded. He stood on his hairy tiptoes, his head cocked so that his pointed ears where tipped to catch the least chitter in the halls. 'That-did you hear it?'
The others strained, hearing nothing.
'Ikri…'
There was a voice, faint and distant.
'Ikrit…'
From somewhere in the depths of the tunnels, a woman was calling.
'Ikrit!'
Pinch looked at the blasted white mass that choked the passage ahead. The quaggoth had been going somewhere, but not to Manferic. There was only one other choice. 'The woman…'
'What? What woman, Pinch?' Sprite demanded.
'Lady Tulan, my mother,' was the answer.
'By the Morninglord,' Lissa gasped, 'your mother's down here? I thought you were an orphan.'
'It's a long tale to tell now.' Pinch dismissed it with a wave of his rotted hand. His dead eyes suddenly glowed with cold light, a small spark of the willpower he'd inherited from his father. 'We've got to find her. I know what revenge Manferic deserves.'
'He's gone maundering. Wit's left him,' Maeve whispered to Therin.
'Comes from being dead.' The Gur tensed his muscular frame, just sensing the need if Pinch got violent.
'I'm not mad,' their corpse-bodied leader growled, surprising them with the insight of his senses. 'Just help me get back my proper body and I'll nip what Manferic and Vargo prize most. The first thing is to find my mother.'
'Think she'll take a ghoul as a son?' The halfling, who had raised the question, didn't figure the query needed an answer. He was just reminding his captain of the realities of the situation.
'Gods' pizzle,' he swore, 'she can't see me like this! She'll think I'm Manferic.' Pinch flapped the rags that hung on his body, waving his frustration.
'Leave her and we'll be out of here,' Therin suggested.
'Mask curse you!' the regulator swore with a clear vehemence that was undimmed by his lipless elocution. 'She's my mother.'
'Yesterday she could've been a common stew for all you cared then!' Therin snapped back.
'Therin, he's got a plan,' Sprite interceded, laying a hand on the bigger's arm. The small face looked up with ridiculously large eyes: Sprite's playing his looks for the sympathy of the crowd. 'If we don't help him, then there ain't none of us like to get out of Ankhapur alive. It's you who should go find this Lady Whatever.'
'Me?'
'You've a way with ladies. Besides, you think she'd heed me, only a halfling?'
'I'll go, too,' Lissa volunteered, trying to do the noble thing.
'No-Maeve, go with Therin,' Pinch ordered, treating the suggestion a done deal. 'I'll need you, priestess, if we're going to be facing a lich.'
'And what if I should say no?' Therin asked.
'Relish the rest of your life down here, do you?' Sprite added. When Therin frowned, the halfling added, 'Then get going.'
'How'm I supposed to find my way out?'
'She'll know the way,' Pinch growled, flashing his yellow teeth through a cold smile of hunger. 'Just be at the Rite of Choosing.
'He's right, Therin. Let's go.' Maeve gathered up a lantern and waited for the Gur to come.
The regulator immediately dispensed with them and turned to Sprite-Heels and Lissa. 'I'll need you two with me. Sprite, can you pace us out to someplace other than my rooms?'
The halfling nodded. 'Couldn't get this lot back into your kip, so I had to find another way in. That's what kept us from…' Sprite let it trail off as he wasn't sure it was good business to raise his failures up right now, especially since Pinch hadn't fared too well.
'Then stop prattling and go. Late off the start's almost cost the race already.'
There was a disconcerting way to Pinch's saying it that gave life to the blue-gray pallor of his skin. He was a cold thing with a hunger that was only going to be satiated with cold revenge.
20
Sprite moved with uncanny confidence through the twisting passages, rejecting branches Pinch thought looked more likely. The rogue had no choice but to trust his lieutenant. The others stayed ahead of him, unwilling to look on his terrible visage any more than they had to.
At length they reached a dead-end. 'Here,' Sprite held the light to the polished stone. An iron ring was set in the wall. More to the point, with his newly sensitive sight the transmigrated rogue easily traced the outline of the jamb, where the cracks let the least glimmer of light in. Even Sprite, with his talent for finding things, probably couldn't see the outlines.
'Beyond's a side courtyard not far from your apartment-'
'The rite'll be held in the main feast hall.'
Pinch seized the iron ring and pulled as hard as he thought was right, forgetting his body's strength in the process. The door flew open with nary a sound. Whoever had engineered this entry was a master, for the heavy, veined marble slid with ease. Pinch practically tumbled backward from the lack of resistance.
The courtyard beyond was lit by the palest of moonlight that barely reached over the high buildings enclosing the artificial forest within. Verdant shrubs filled squat pots, and fine-leaved trees waved gently to the rhythm of the splashing fountain in the far wall. Moon-flowers spread their ivory petals to absorb the night. Caged birds hung from
