Laurell Hamilton - Nightseer

“Or as weapons.”

Tobin stepped close to the book. “What is this book?”

Keleios’ voice fell into the singsong pattern of the bard. “Long, long ago, before the Lady of

the Shadows lost her name and her body, before Verm fell from grace by the rape of his sister, when Loth was not the god of bloodshed, the three gods came together. Loth was an enchanter; the lady, an herb-witch; and Verm, a sorcerer. They joined their powers to create a great work. Verm and the Lady poured much of their power into the making, for combined they were greater than alone. But Loth only enchanted, binding their powers to a book, to pages, pages made with the rites of Verm and Shadow. For the pages they flayed skin from their most devout followers, from victims on their altars they made an ink of blood, and they began the work.

“At last it was done, but it was too great a thing and caused envy between the gods. Verm saw how powerful the book was; the essence of evil lay in it, of corruption, his essence.

The Lady lay in it her substance, her lies, her power. It had been made in a bid for greater power, but now each looked to the other with fear. For the book could bring down the ruin of the other. They had allowed too much of themselves to slip into the book.

“So one night Loth stole the book and vowed that neither should have it for fear of turning against the other. At first they feared that Loth would come against them, but it did not happen. The book was lost. Until now.”

The demon Harque said, “We must hurry, Master. The dungeon master might come looking for the witch.”

“He is right. Lothor, you and Tobin go and free the prisoners. I cannot leave this book. And I do not know if it will allow me to pick it up again.”

“I will go if you promise not to read it while we are gone.”

Keleios laughed. “I am not so eager to have my mind blasted. I will not read it, you have my word.”

They left, following the false Harque. Eroar appeared in the room moments later. “The Guardian Worm was badly served by the witch. An eye is infected when a little cleaning would have prevented it. The den is filthy.”

“We will see what we can do before we leave.”

He smiled, his human form handsome with perfect white teeth. “I promised her we would.”

“Her?”

“Yes.” He dared her to make something of it. She let it drop.

Poth was sniffing Harque’s headless body and gave a low hiss. The flesh had begun to slip off the bones of the hand; the bones were green.

Keleios knelt beside the figure. “Verm’s curse, spelled doppelganger. Harque is alive. The demons have not fled; they are in hiding. We’ve got to warn the others.”

Eroar reached outward but couldn’t get through. The protective shield was back and the room was a trap once more.

With a surge of magic, a flight of succuba appeared in the room. Like manic butterflies they swooped down, some with weapons, others with claws and teeth.

Keleios pulled Aching Silver from his sheath. Eroar sent an umbrella of cold over the

demons, and they broke, shrieking in high-pitched voices. The succuba fled. Into the silence a woman spoke. “Welcome, Keleios Incantare, Elwine’s daughter. I hope you have been entertained.”

Harque stood near them away from any door. She was tall, straight, and handsome. Where her eyes once had been now glittered red faceted jewels.

“As always, witch, there has been nothing dull about our stay.”

Harque smiled, “I am so glad. You’ll be happy to know that my winged friends have gone down to visit your companions.” She walked around the room to stand in front of the smashed cabinet. “I see you have found the book.”

“Yes.”

“Well, little enchanter, I wish you better luck than I had. I was quite mad for several years after deciphering some of the smaller spells.” Her smile was wistful. “Such a price for knowledge.” She stared at Keleios, and the half-elf watched life play behind the jewel eyes. Harque was in there, the jewels reflected her moods like real eyes. “And what price would you pay for freedom for you and your friends?”

“What price do you ask?”

“My, how you’ve changed; you’ve learned caution. But six years is a long time for some.” She continued to pace the room, touching objects with a light caress. “What price freedom? You to be my second when I walk the pit.”

Surprise flashed across Keleios’ face before she could stop it.

Harque chuckled. “Yes, be surprised. Do we bargain, Keleios Incantare, or do we fight?” Eroar spoke softly, “Is it dangerous?”

Keleios said, “Yes, but not extremely if the person passing through is strong willed. Are you strong of will now, Harque?”

“I am ready to pass into my power.”

Keleios frowned at the phrasing.

A velvet cushion lay on top of the smashed cabinet and on it lay a polished globe of crystal. Harque picked up the crystal ball. “Here, see your friends; perhaps that will help you decide.”

Images like fog rolled round the sphere, but Keleios sought Tobin and found him. He was naked and lost in the embrace of two succuba. He felt no danger, and Keleios moved on quickly.

Harque laughed, shaking the globe, and then calmed. “The black healer next.”

The word drew the image in the crystal. Lothor was in a cell and was backing away from a copper-haired succubus. He was fighting for control, but his ax lay across the room. Another demon touched him, and he flinched away, afraid. He turned his back and began to pound the wall, gouging holes in the stone.

“That one has seen what the succuba do. He fears greatly and is strong willed.” Harque smiled a lovely smile; the jewels in her face caught the light for an instant. “The succuba

can drain a man to death if not kept to moderation.”

She replaced the crystal on its cushion. “There are other demons and people who desire to visit your companions, many others.” She smiled radiantly at them. “But then you know that better than most, half-elf.”

“Yes, Harque, I remember. Free them, and I will second you.”

“No, I will free them after I have walked the pit.”

Keleios faced her squarely, hand clasping hilt; the sword began a soft song. “Harque, your journey will be long. In the time it takes, great harm could come to them. I will not bargain for shattered men whose minds and bodies are broken.”

“True, true, but if I free them you will not bargain fairly with me.”

“Then we cannot agree.”

Eroar broke in. “Perhaps, if the demons were not allowed to harm them for the time it would take Harque to transverse the pit.”

“No, Eroar, a demon’s idea of harm is too strange. They have not harmed any of them yet, to their way of reasoning.” Keleios walked forward to stand only two steps from the witch. “What if I give an oath? Will you free them before you cross the pit?”

“It would depend on the oath.”

“I will swear by Verm’s hounds and Loth’s birds.”

“A strange oath for a follower of Cia.”

“These are strange times. Is it agreed?”

Harque drew a gold whistle and touched it to her lips. A red-haired succubus appeared. “Free the men after she makes this oath.”

The red-haired demon pouted. “This will not be popular. They are standing in line for the white-haired one. It has been long since we have had our way with a prince of royal blood from Lolth or Meltaan.”

“Why do they stand in line for the white-haired one?”

“He is most skilled with demons.”

Harque waved at the globe, and it swirled to give images of Lothor with three succuba. Keleios looked away, anger and shame flushing through her. Harque laughed. “He does not fear the loving embrace; he fears his own perversion. He seems happy enough.”