Laurell Hamilton - Nightseer

He said nothing but wrapped the book in the table’s white cloth and pushed it into an empty pack. The crystal he set upon the desk.

Keleios slid the rope in beside the book then put the crystal in beside them. She shouldered the pack, not bothering to ask the dragon if he wanted a share of its load.

Keleios found herself holding the silver sword, blade bare and hungry. It was better to save magic if the sword would do. Eroar opened the door slowly, but the corridor was empty. Keleios took the lead. She thought Eroar would protest, but he remained silent and followed. Poth wandered ahead, cat-silent; few would bother to attack her.

Keleios remembered the corridors from Harque’s study to the dungeons, for she had walked it almost daily for a month. They met one small vapor demon who was searching for the library. He had to find the library without aid of magic.

“We are on a quest also,” Keleios said. “We search for two men: one tall and slender and very pale, part ice elf; the other, short with reddish hair and young.”

“A tall thin man, I know not, but the boy is in the dungeon’s heart and is being deviled by many demons.”

Keleios sighed heavily. “And our task is to rescue him.”

“You are on an entertainment then?” He nodded sympathetically.

She continued in a sad voice, “Yes, you are near the library. Simply follow this corridor then turn left at the second junction. The library will be the huge double doors with brass handles on the right side of the corridor.”

“Oh, thank you. One of the demons is a black follow, very nasty looking, so take care.”

It floated down the hallway, vibrating with anxiety.

As they continued on their way, Eroar asked, “Will he not report us?”

“No, we are both on a task. We entertain; he assumes that those in charge know what we are doing.”

“How is this entertainment?”

“That was something I never understood.”

“Why would a demon be a victim?”

“Big demons pick on lesser demons; it is the way of things.”

“You learned a great deal in a short stay.”

“Time is what you make it. These stairs lead into the dungeons. We should find Lothor down there, also, but in a cell. Only Tobin is free running.”

Groghe appeared in the corridor just in front of them. Keleios had to fight the silver sword for his life. “Groghe, don’t just appear like that. You’ll get yourself killed.”

“So sorry, Master, but I escaped, for they were not interested in me. They can always torment me later.” He rumbled with the necklace. “I am still yours.”

“Can you change to Harque and guide us?”

“No, the other demons are suspicious and will be looking for me.”

“Then follow us invisibly and do not hinder us.”

“No, Master.” He blinked out. His claws scraped on the stone like mice in the night.

The stairs were wide but steep. Three large men could have walked abreast down them, but the height and pitch of the steps were not formed for human tread.

“Harque did not build this, surely,” Eroar said.

“No, it was here waiting for her. Only the gods know who built it.”

They came to a corridor that forked three ways. The tramp of many feet came from the left. A scream came from straight ahead; to the right was silence. “Fade back.” Eroar simply became invisible for he lacked the elfish ability to blend with the surroundings.

A troop of grey-robed guards came from the left and passed into the silent right corridor. No one glanced toward the stairs; no one noticed a shadow that held other than darkness. They waited the space of five heartbeats after the last robe had vanished from sight.

Eroar reappeared, and Keleios simply stepped out of concealment. Poth was nowhere to be seen.

“We go straight.”

“Toward the scream.”

She nodded.

The hallway stretched in a gentle torch-lined curve. It would be very hard to hide in the middle of that hallway. They went forward cautiously. She motioned for Eroar to take the left-hand side of cells, and she took the right. The first three cells were empty. The fourth held a man, curled into a small ball. She did not wait to see if he moved. Keleios tried to scan the cells without thinking about what lay inside. Just before they rounded the curve, she found Tobin’s armor. It lay in a heap beside a pallet in a narrow cell. His sword was there, too. Wherever he was, he was naked and unarmed. A shriek came from up ahead, and faintly rumbling laughter.

She whispered to Eroar, “I believe Tobin will want these back.” She continued, “If you can spell the door. I will scry Tobin’s situation.”

“I was unlocking doors before you were hatched.”

She chose not to remind the dragon that hatching wasn’t pertinent. She stood away so he could cast at the lock, and took out the crystal. The stone was smooth, cool, and flawless. She concentrated on Tobin’s face. The vision came suddenly, startlingly clear. He was struggling in the grip of a very large demon, green-scaled and ivory-horned. The demon tossed him to another, who was slender and white with a spiked tail, and he threw him to the black pudding demon who caught with a tendril of ooze and covered the boy with it. Tobin struggled against it but disappeared inside the pudding. The other demons began to argue that it wasn’t time to eat it yet and he better spit it out. He did reluctantly. Tobin crawled away from the pudding, retching and gasping for air. His gold-tinged skin glistened with slime. She cleared the crystal.

“The door is open. Should we...”

“We must hurry.”

She left without waiting to see if he followed. Eroar scowled but gathered the armor, clothes, and sword in his arms and followed.

He caught up to her in a few strides.

“Three demons are with him: one of ice, the black slime that we saw earlier, and a green-scaled demon that I don’t recognize.”

The sword rose a short distance from its sheath. “I know. The demon we absorbed earlier knows.”

“Tell me, then.”

“It is a demon of plague. In battle, if it chooses, its touch brings the dreaded spreading sickness.”

The invisible imp made a small keening sound. “Oh, Master, he is bad, very bad.”

“Just stay out of the way, little one.” Of all the demons to ensorcell, she had one of the weakest. Other than his shapeshifting and the limited sorcery of all demonkind, he could do little.

“That one must be taken out from a distance, then. We can hit the slime with cold, and the ice demon with fire, but the green ...”

The sword rose a hand’s breadth of silver from its sheath. “We can destroy it.”

“Safely?”

She could almost feel the sword shrug. “As safe as we can be. I cannot guarantee your safety.”

She gripped the sword’s hilt, testing if it could truly do what it said. “Yes. If you have no objections, Master Eroar, you could throw a fireball at the ice, and distract the slime. I will fight the green. If the green demon dies I will help you with the slime.”

“If the demon does not die?”

“It will have to die.”

His look was eloquent.

“I know it isn’t a wonderful plan, but I don’t have time for anything better. If you, Master Dragonmage, have a better plan, I’ll listen.”

He made no answer, but motioned her forward, “Let’s go get the boy.”

They waited just inside the tunnel. Eroar put Tobin’s belongings on the floor, taking care that the metal did not clink. The ice and slime were to the right and the green to the left.

A rack was near them and Tobin crouched on the floor near the torture device. Poth the cat crouched under the device itself. Eroar nodded that he saw her and stepped out, sending a medium-sized fireball to the ice demon.