Thomas Reid - The Emerald Scepter

Pilos shook his head. "There are ways I could do it, but I have nothing prepared. By the time I do, it'll be too late."

"Then we'll consider that a fallback idea," Hetta said in a businesslike tone, "and come up with other, more immediate solutions."

"Laithe probably knows something," Quill ventured. "Can you ask her?"

"Yes," Hetta replied. "I could release her from the ring and let her back into her body," she said. "But it's doubtful I could overwhelm her a second time. She'd be ready for it, and her will is strong."

"Then we need to make sure we have the upper hand," Pilos said, grabbing the manacles he had worn. "We'll bind and gag you before you release her, then we'll persuade her that it's in her best interests to aid us."

Hetta considered Pilos for a moment, then she nodded. "It's the best choice we have," she agreed. "Let's do it."

It did not take them long to secure the wizard. Pilos and Quill locked her legs together and chained her arms behind her back, as theirs had been. After they stuffed a large wad of cloth in her mouth and tied it in place, they sat her down in a corner and took up positions on either side of her.

"We're ready," Pilos said, and Hetta nodded.

For a moment, the woman's eyes glazed over, then her head snapped back and her eyes flared in anger. Immediately, she began to grunt and struggle, but Pilos and Quill held her down.

"Stop it," Pilos ordered, grabbing her by the hair and jerking her face up toward his. "You can't get out of them, so give it up."

Slowly, with a sullenness in her visage, Laithe relaxed.

"Good," the young priest said, releasing her. He reached behind her and slipped Hetta's ring from her finger, then pocketed it. "Now, we have some questions, and you'd do well to answer them. Because if we don't find out what we want to know, we'll let our good friend take over your body again, and she might never give it back. Am I clear?"

Laithe's eyes widened, and she nodded.

"Excellent," Pilos said. "I'm going to remove your gag, but only if you agree not to call out. If you lie to us, I'll make sure you don't have any teeth left to talk to whomever comes to rescue you. Again, do I make myself clear?"

Once more, Laithe nodded.

Pilos reached out and began to untie the gag while Quill stood next to him, his fist drawn back menacingly.

When the Abreeant had removed the binding, Laithe spit the wad of material out of her mouth and made a sour face. "You two fools ought to run while you have the chance," she said.

"Shut your hole," Quill said, drawing his fist back farther. "We ask questions, you answer. Otherwise, no words better come out of your mouth."

Laithe glared at the man, but she nodded.

"Fine," Pilos said. "Now, this is very easy. Where is the mirror?"

"What mirror?" Laithe asked.

Quill's slap echoed off the bookshelves, and the wizard grunted. When she turned back to face them, her lip was bloody.

"You know what mirror," Pilos said. "Where did Junce take it?"

"I don't know," Laithe answered. She tensed, as though ready for another slap. Quill seemed to think about it, but he didn't strike her again.

"Are you sure you don't know?" Pilos asked. "Because if I have to let my friend invade your body again to find out for sure, we can do that."

"I told you, I don't know. I don't ask the man what he does when I'm not around."

"Where did he likely take the mirror?" Pilos asked. "Possible places?"

Laithe shrugged. "I don't know anything about his mirror. Only that he uses it to catch people. I don't know where he got it or where he keeps it."

"Liar," Quill snarled, and he smacked her again.

"That's enough," Pilos said. "She's telling the truth."

Quill turned to look at the young priest, a hurt look on his face. "How do you know?" he asked.

"I just do," Pilos remarked. "She may not be volunteering information, but what's she's telling us is accurate."

"So what do we-" Quill's words died on his tongue as the door to the library slammed open.

The three of them had chosen their hiding place wisely-the doors were not visible to them-but Pilos knew beyond a doubt that whoever had entered the chamber knew they were there, and had come to hunt them down.

Laithe apparently knew also, for she began to yell. "Junce! I'm here! Hurry! They're both here!"

Quill moved to punch the wizard in the face, but Pilos grabbed him by the arm and stopped him. "No time," he said, handing the man a small vial. "Drink this and follow me," he ordered.

Without waiting for Quill to comply with his instructions, the young priest downed his own magical elixir, feeling the moisture vanish from his mouth and noting the familiar smoky taste. He felt himself become insubstantial, a cloud of misty vapors drifting off the floor. There was no weight to his body, no sense of push or pull in his legs. He just floated there, able to see in every direction at once, an ability his mind had a difficult time accepting.

Pilos willed himself toward the ceiling just as Junce came charging around the last of the bookshelves, a blade drawn. As Pilos wafted up into the rafters where Emriana had hidden earlier that evening, he noted that the assassin had brought a number of Generon guards with him.

Laithe was yelling at Junce that they were escaping, jerking her head up toward the ceiling, but Pilos didn't wait around to see if the assassin figured out what she meant. He saw that Quill was not standing there, and instead had transformed into a mist himself, so he led the way out of the library. At the door, which was closed and was now guarded on both sides by two soldiers each, he simply imagined flowing through the crack at the top. As quickly as he considered it, it happened, and he slipped through the gap. None of the guards thought to look up as Pilos and Quill drifted along the ceiling of the corridor outside, though Laithe was yelling orders and curses back in the library.

Hetta, are you with me? Pilos asked as he wafted along.

Yes, child, I am still here. That was quick thinking, drinking those elixirs.

Pilos wanted to nod, but the sensation to do so was simply not there. Don't know why I thought of it, but I'm glad, he projected. Now we have to hope that we can stay this way long enough to get out of here. If we're still down in the bowels of the Generon when the potions wear off, we're in trouble.

Chimneys, Hetta thought. Go up.

Of course, Pilos realized. Good idea.

The priest sought out the next room along the corridor, and inside, he drifted toward a fireplace. From there it was a simple matter to follow the flue up, ignoring any connections that did not continue vertically. It was a long ascent, but as he neared the top, Pilos was helped by updrafts rushing along, carrying him ever faster toward the chimney top.

Soon enough, Pilos and Quill stood on a roof of the Generon, looking out over the city.

"That was an adventure," the mercenary said, looking around. "But how do we get down?"

Pilos shrugged. "One thing at a time," he said. "Be glad we're not still down there."

Quill nodded in agreement. "It looks like we can drop over that side and climb down to a balcony," he said, pointing.

Pilos followed the man to the edge of the section of roof where they had just exited. Directly under them was a colonnaded walkway, and beyond that, there were gardens. "I guess I'm going to be climbing around the Generon after all," he muttered, thinking of Emriana. It seemed like an eternity ago that she had tried to convince him that they would need to climb over a wall to sneak inside. He almost laughed at the irony that he was climbing down to sneak out, but thoughts of her quelled any mirth he might have felt.