Лиза Смедман - Extinction

Pharaun smiled and inclined his chin slightly in a token bow. Then he dispelled the globe of darkness, dropped Danifae’s hand, and turned back to Oothoon.

Well ? he asked. Have you decided to accept my offer ?

The aboleth matriarch flicked a tentacle and said, “Give me Quenthel, and I will tell you where the ship of chaos is.”

Danifae raised an eyebrow. Seeing it, Pharaun gave a slight nod. He’d obviously realized the same thing she had, they’d come looking for a ship, but neither one of them had mentioned precisely what sort of ship. Still, there was a chance that Valas might have done so.

Describe it , Pharaun signed. Convince us that you know about it .

The aboleth closed its eyes, as if calling up a distant memory.

“It was made of bone and moved upon the surface of the lake. The creatures that inhabited it were shaped as you are and seemed alive but were pale and bloated, and tasted of death—and of insects. The one that she-who-spawned-my-mothers consumed was infested with white, wriggling things.”

Maggots , Pharaun signed, his face showing none of the revulsion that Danifae was certain was written plain across her own face.

“Yes. An uncomfortable experience—especially when the creature disincorporated into acidic vapor within her stomach. She-who-spawned-my-mothers nearly died and would not willingly eat one of those creatures again, had its mind held the secrets of the gods themselves.”

Danifae seized upon that important point.

When did your ancestor consume the mane ? she asked. When the ship first visited your city—or after it was lost ?

“After,” Oothoon answered. “The foolish creature came swimming back here when its captain was overcome.”

Describe the captain , Pharaun signed.

“It was a land creature, with two walking legs and two holding legs,” Oothoon answered, “and a long tail that constantly moved, like a strand of kelp in a shifting current. Its body was without hair, except for its snout. The demon’s face resembled that of the tiny land creatures that scurry through the caverns, with a snout that was always tasting the air.”

An uridezu , Pharaun signed, with a knowing look at Danifae. Just as Belshazu told us .

Valas could have mentioned that detail to the aboleth , Danifae signed quickly.

Pharaun shook his head and replied, Valas doesn’t know one demon from another. He wouldn’t recognize an uridezu if one was staring him in the face, nor would he remember a demonic species Belshazu mentioned only in passing. Oothoon is telling the truth. Her ancestor did indeed consume the mane—and with it, knowledge of where the ship foundered .

To Oothoon, he signed, We know that the ship was lost in a storm. Was it destroyed ?

“When the mane swam away from the ship, it was still whole,” Oothoon answered. “The storm immobilized it and killed the crew but did not damage the ship itself.”

Danifae snorted. As if the aboleth matriarch would give them any other answer, after Pharaun had revealed their plans to raise the ship and sail it again.

And what of the demon ? Pharaun asked.

“It, too, was immobilized by the storm.”

The mage thought for a moment, then nodded, seemingly satisfied with Oothoon’s replies.

Very well , he signed. Tell me where the ship lies, and I will arrange for Quenthel to come to you .

“No,” Oothoon answered, glowering—and for a frightening moment, Danifae thought that the bargain was off, that the aboleth had decided to eat them, instead. “You will give me the priestess—and after I have consumed her, I will tell you the location of the ship.”

Danifae snorted. Impasse. But to her astonishment, Pharaun nodded.

I accept , he told the aboleth.

As Oothoon gurgled in delight, the two guards nudged Pharaun and Danifae from the room. The audience was at an end.

Gromph was surprised by the contents of the thought bottle. He could hear the gurgle of fluid, but what slid over his tongue felt like fine sand. As he swallowed it, a curious taste filled his mouth—a strange blend of ancient, desiccated insect and the sharp tang of ground amber.

Memories burst into his mind with the suddenness or spores exploding from an overripe fungus. Included among them was a spell—one that needed no verbal component, merely a somatic one: the act of swallowing the last of the bottle’s contents.

The illithid, sensing that something was wrong, leaped forward, one misshapen hand lashing out, but it was already too late. The last of the bottle’s contents slid across Gromph’s tongue and was swallowed, triggering the spell. A ripple of magical energy passed through the room quicker than thought, leaving Sluuguth frozen, eyes bulging in fury, tentacles halted in mid-lash a finger’s breadth from Gromph’s face. The thought bottle hung in mid-air where it had been knocked, and the duergar axe the illithid had been carrying was frozen between Sluuguth’s outstretched hand and the ground. He’d dropped it in surprise the instant Gromph’s thoughts told him what was about to happen.

Gromph stood up, steadying himself with one hand on his desk as the room blurred slightly. Unsticking oneself in time was always disorienting. He felt dizzy, slightly off balance, as if the world was solid but he was not.

With his memories restored, all was clear to him.

So that was why I erased everything but a single memory, the archmage thought, that I should offer these bottles to any creature who could dominate my mind.

It wasn’t because he hoped to trick the creature into drinking their contents but because he expected it to read that thought and make him drink from one of the bottles first, as a safety precaution.

Just as Sluuguth had done.

Gromph wasted no time basking in his foresight, however. He had to move quickly. The time-stopping spell was a powerful one, but it was brief. It would hold for no more than a few heartbeats. Bending swiftly, he picked up the battle-axe.

After a slight tug—inertia made the weapon feel as though it was stuck in mud—Gromph grasped the axe firmly in both hands and swung. Its blade bit cleanly through the illithid’s neck, severing it with a single stroke. Pulled by the blade, blood bulged at the exit wound, but the head itself remained on the shoulders.

As Gromph laid the weapon on his desk, the spell ended and time lurched forward again. Blood sprayed against the wall, Sluuguth’s head flew from his body, and the illithid crumpled in a heap. An instant later, the thought bottle thumped against the wall and clattered to the floor.

Looking down into the blade of the axe, Gromph saw a frenzied swirling as the enchanted blade added Sluuguth’s soul to those it had already stolen. The illithid’s face stared out in horror from the flat of the blade, tentacles lashing. Eventually it turned transparent and was gone.

“What a useful weapon,” Gromph said, setting the duergar battle-axe down again. He chuckled. “Perhaps I should hang it on the wall as a souvenir.”

Kneeling, he chanted the words to a spell and passed his hands over the corpse of the illithid. His palms tingled when they passed over the illithid’s out-flung hand. The gold signet ring on Sluuguth’s middle finger was magical, imbued with protective enchantments. He slipped it off the illithid’s finger and laid it on his desk. His hands tingled a second time as they passed over an elongated leather carrying case that hung at Sluuguth’s belt. Opening it, Gromph saw a tube inside. He eased out the tube—a length of hollow bone with a plug of wood at either end—and shook it. He heard the rustle of paper. Scrolls, perhaps? He would study them later, after taking the appropriate precautions.