Jeff Grubb: Lord Toede

Pity touched Toede's heart, pity that Groag, a natural follower, had made the mistake of seizing leadership. Perhaps it would be better to let him live, to just let him leave. Still, that would make Groag a live enemy, as opposed to a dead martyr. "I…" He hesitated for a moment, then continued, "I don't think it's entirely your fault."

Groag was silent. "I suppose you want your chair back."

Toede heard the groaning of iron hinges and cast a glance back toward the door. "I think we'll have to put that off," he said, "at least for a little while."

The doors had swung backward to reveal a dozen shambling forms: gnoll, human, and kender. Rogate had been too late to spread the warning. The necromancer's spell had already spread through the city. The undead had multiplied, were everywhere.

Groag's eyes widened as he saw the necromancer's minions shuffle forward. "Know of any good miracles, Lord Toede?"

Toede hefted his sword. He wondered how long he could last in combat before his damaged rib slid into his lung. "I'm fresh out, Lord Groag," said Toede. "Wish I had one handy."

That was when the lightning struck, and she appeared, floating in a ball of brilliant light. Her flesh was mirrored silver, and she was carrying a blade so dark it hurt to gaze at its ebony blackness. Her hair was the color of flaming blood; her eyes gleamed. Toede, Groag, and even the zombies had to shield their eyes from her feral appearance.

The world held its breath. Judith had arrived in Ansa-lon.

"When will you learn," Toede heard Groag say, "to stop saying things like that?"

"I am Judith," said the silvery figure in a booming tone that caused the glass walls and dome to vibrate. "Lieutenant and servant to her Dark Ladyship, Takhisis. Let all who witness me quake in peril!"

The hell-maiden spun, regarding the two figures by the throne with an icy glare. Words dripped like acid from her lips. "Where is the one named Toede?"

Toede wanted to point to Groag, but his wounded arm stopped him. Groag in the meantime had pointed at Toede, and taken two polite steps back.

Toede sighed, meekly stepping forward. "I… am…" He cleared his voice and tried again. "I am Toede."

Judith regarded the hobgoblin crossly. "Are you not supposed to be dead?"

Toede nodded. "I tried, but it wouldn't take." He managed a weak smile that withered under the hell-maiden's glare like a fresh posie tossed into a maelstrom. She looked insulted at the very idea that anyone would dare to jest in her presence.

One of the zombies behind Judith tried to lunge at her, only to pass through the multicolored sphere surrounding her and disintegrate into myriad pieces.

Judith seemed to take notice of the undead for the first time at that point, and waved a hand dismissively. The zombies exploded. Not with a roar of fury and streaming of rotted intestines, but with large holes erupting from their chests and soft puffs of air that sounded like popcorn roasting over a fire. The zombies slumped silently to the floor.

'These are yours?" she asked crossly, apparently looking for more evidence of Toede's impertinence.

"Uh, no!" said Toede quickly, passing a hand over his heart to ascertain that it was still beating. "They… er… belong to a rival of ours"-he indicated himself and Groag-"who is overrunning our city with his undead."

"Please, most powerful lady!" interrupted Groag, falling to his knees. "Please save our city! The necromancer's forces will kill everyone! I was a fool to have trusted him, but they'll all die unless you help."

The shining maiden of the Abyss did not deign to smile. "Why," she asked, "in the name of the Dark Lady herself would I want to stop the undead from slaying every living being here?"

"Because… ah… because…" Groag stammered to a halt.

"Because you are letting one small evil destroy a greater potential evil," put in Toede. "This city is the greatest repository of malice and mischief on the Blood Sea. No bloody-handed madmen, mind you, no great armies of foul-spawned warriors, no megalomanic world-conquerors, but petty evil, venal evil, and greedy evil. This town has been a haven for pirates, con men, thieves, and all manner of ne'er-do-wells and outcasts, along with crooked merchants, mercenaries, and yes, a few madmen, or mad-beings. It is a spawning ground for ill will and evil activity, for hatred and corruption, and unless action is taken and taken quickly, it will be replaced with the silence of the grave, and the shambling of the zombies' tread."

Toede was winded from his long exposition and had to bite the inside of his mouth to avoid saying more. Judith had closed her eyes halfway through his discourse. Now she opened them, and Toede saw they glowed with the crimson fire of the hearth. "Your argument has merit. Evil turns on itself all too often in this world. The appeal is granted."

She waved a hand. The two hobgoblins heard the sound of popping corn in the courtyards outside, growing in intensity as it swept outward, and reaching a crescendo with a loud bang that sounded like the detonation of a gnomish invention.

That would be the whale, thought Toede.

Judith's steely gaze returned to the former highmaster of Flotsam. "As I stated before, you are supposed to be dead."

Toede nodded. "Yes. I have died. Three times now, each time in painful fashion, and each time was restored to life again. Are you the agent of my recovery, the torturer whose task it is to send me here time and again?" he asked.

Then Judith did something very surprising. She laughed. It was not the merry laugh of the party-goer, or the demure chuckle of the debutante, but loud, rollicking laughter that seemed to start in the Abyss and work its way to the surface with the force of a mounting earthquake. Toede took two steps backward. Groag moved for the shelter of the throne.

"I am not such an agent," said Judith. "Witness those fools responsible for your reanimation."

There was another sphere of multicolored lightning, and two twisted and shackled figures materialized in the throne room. They were manacled together, the metal bands around their wrists and ankles still glowing from some recent die in the furnace.

The pair were in obvious pain, yet still capable of standing upright. They looked like some type of winged lizard men or draconians with long, horselike faces. They sweated and smelled like burned blood. Though of similar breed, they were different in that one was tall and rail-thin, the other short and portly. Their appearance tickled something deep within Toede's memory.

"Witness the agents of your reanimation," repeated Judith. "These are two petty bureaucrats of the Abyss. The Castellan of the Condemned, and the Abbot of Misrule. They are charged in this court with shirking their duties, abusing their positions, idleness, gambling, and unauthorized return of the dead to life. All are serious crimes."

Toede looked at the pair and remembered the two shadowy godlike forms-Mountain-tall and Sea-wide-from his dreams. "They told me to live nobly," he said.

"Live nobly," hissed Judith. "And they gambled on your success. So tell me, my petty fiends, who won your bet?"

Both abishai looked embarrassed. The Castellan ventured meekly, "I think I did."

The enraged hell-maiden regarded him harshly. "And your reasoning is…?"

"Ah, well," said the Castellan, sounding a little like Renders. "He has embarked on a noble mission, as you can clearly see."

The taller abishai chuckled, and Judith turned her attention to him. "And what are your reasons for saying this Toede has not learned nobility?"