The Maelstrom Eye

Chapter Four

As he placed his hand on the waiting room door, General Vorr took a moment to touch his sword hilt and reassure himself of its weight. Vorr had long ago discarded any worship of the uncaring gods, except perhaps for the hero-ancestor Dukagsh. Vorr placed his faith instead in his strength, skills, and willpower. Still, if he never admitted to having fears, he sometimes felt doubt, and getting the feel of a weapon before a battle was as close as he would ever come to praying. He did not fear the undead, but he did not like them either. Victory was the healthiest antidote for doubt.

His previous injuries were now largely healed, thanks to his regenerative powers, but his right arm still ached deep in the bone where the knight had stabbed him, and his left shoulder still burned from the poisoned axe. With Admiral Halker waiting impatiently behind him in the hallway, he opened the door and stepped into the cool air of the room beyond.

The room, in a building adjacent to the one in which Vorr had his headquarters, once had been the spacious stone chapel of a local elven deity. After the fall of Spiral, it had served as a prisoner-holding station and was now just a room where scouts and other visitors were quartered before meeting with high officials. Enthusiastic orcs, scro, goblins, and others had demolished or stolen everything of value in the area during the assault, leaving the chapel as barren as if it never had been inhabited at all. Only the great brass lanterns, hanging on long chains from the vaulted ceiling, remained of the elves' original furnishings, their magical glow illuminating the room despite the battering they had taken from debris hurled at them by bored visitors.

Vorr did not know what to expect when he entered, except for the lich. Indeed, standing in the room's center, by the faceless and almost unrecognizable statue of an elven god, was a skeletal human in dark velvet robes. From its thin rope belt hung a single gray pouch. At Vorr's entrance, the creature turned from the statue with a startled movement to face him. Its bony hands came up with its fingers spread in an obvious spell-casting movement. The stench of long-dead meat assailed the general's nostrils almost immediately.

It was then that Vorr saw the four huge creatures standing farther back in the room, their black carapaces gleaming in the light overhead. The monsters turned as one to face the general, then raised their great clawed hands and widened their yard-long mandibles in anticipation, hurrying forward with a lumbering gait to pass the lich and plant themselves before him.

Vorr immediately blocked the doorway with his huge body ' and threw a hand out to stop the admiral's advance. "Umber hulks!" he shouted as he drew his sword. Then he saw that the room already had perhaps two dozen ogre guardsmen lining the walls, weapons at the ready. He also saw that the umber hulks' dangerous magical eyes were shrouded with torn strips of black cloth, preventing their mind-destroying vision from affecting the ogres already in the room. He hesitated, sensing that he had reacted too quickly.

"Halt!" The lich's rasping voice was strained and barely understandable. Striding forward between the huge monsters, the undead being placed a gentle, skeletal hand on the thick arm of one of its wide-bodied beasts. "You must slower walk, and less loud be, or difficulty with my servants I will have," the lich said, cold yellow-green light burning within its eye sockets. "Their eyes tightly bound are, but guarantee your safety I cannot, if them again you startle."

"This is my fault, I'm afraid," said Admiral Halker. He stepped past the general and entered the room, casually wiping sweat from his forehead. "I was careless and did not mention that your bodyguards were umber hulks, Skarkesh. I hope I got your name right."

"Skarkesh, it is." The lich dropped its fleshless hand from the umber hulk's arm. "Apologize for their presence I must. Trust in all things I lack, having this lesson in unfortunate ways learned. Like pets to me now they are."

Vorr sheathed his broadsword after another look around the room. Thanks to the eye shrouds, his ogres were not affected by the terrible madness that seized anyone who looked into an umber hulk's eyes-anyone but himself, of course, since magical effects couldn't touch him. The ogres, who had tensed at Vorr's arrival, relaxed slightly, keeping their pole axes and huge swords at the ready. Vorr was pleased to see their courage in the face of the lich, whose magic usually drove its foes mad with panic before it. Vorr frowned suddenly, sensing that something was wrong.

"To you two plainly I must speak," rasped the lich, turning to walk back to the battered statue. "At my news with excitement I am seized, but with you to speak alone I had hoped. Too many guards we keep, and my news best in quiet surroundings is given. Possible this is?"

The general and admiral carefully exchanged looks. "There is a small room in the back of this one, where we could discuss things," said the admiral, looking back at Skarkesh, "if General Vorr feels it would be safe enough."

This could be tricky, thought Vorr. Even two dozen ogres would be hard pressed against four umber hulks, and he knew damn well that the hulks' first action in combat would be to tear away those flimsy eye coverings. Vorr reached for the nearest ogre and waved him over. Pulling a small card from a pocket on his thick belt, the general handed it to the ogre and motioned at the door. "Take that to your company commander," he said softly. The sweat-streaked ogre grunted, sheathed its weapons, and left, pulling the door shut behind him. "We can talk now," Vorr finished.

"Enjoy tricks I do not," said the lich sharply, its voice rising in pitch. "What trick have you done?" The umber hulks shifted in agitation, their long mandibles clacking softly together like vast ivory claws.

"I sent him to tell his commander that if we were not back in two hours, he was to bring his entire force here to find out why," said the general in a matter-of-fact tone. "Trust in all things we lack, too, having learned that lesson in unfortunate ways like yourself. You and your big pets have as much safety as your behavior allows us to grant you."

The lich made a curious wheezing noise. "As you want," it said finally, "but unpleasant my gratitude will be if treachery for dinner you serve." General Vorr noted that the stench of carrion in the room was now stronger. Odd, he thought, looking at the lich. It's completely bone, with no trace of flesh. Could it have rotting meat under its robes? There was also the reaction of the ogres-or, rather, the curious lack of any reaction among them to confronting the lich. It didn't make sense. Things had gone quite differently, years ago in the Glowrings Sphere, when Vorr had been the only warrior who dared come within striking range of the undead sorcerer.

Admiral Halker stepped forward, waving a hand to the back of the room. "Let's get on with our talk. Skarkesh, if you would have your bodyguards remain here, we shall do the same with ours. They look like they should keep each other in good company." The admiral rubbed his flat nose briefly, undoubtedly not enjoying the stench the lich was giving off but still putting up a pleasant front.

"Agreed I am," whispered the lich, and uttered a series of harsh syllables at its bodyguards. The umber hulks shifted their huge clawed feet, forming a defensive square to watch all sides of the room, and appeared to await further instructions.

Admiral Halker took the initiative and led the way to the back of the room. The little room at the rear had been for the elven priests, in all likelihood, as the scro had slain several minor clerics and their followers there in a massacre after the landings. The old scro stepped aside to allow Vorr to enter the little room first.

The room was about ten feet square, with a ceiling low enough to force the general to stoop. Its imported sandstone walls were once covered with bas-relief work and paintings, all now destroyed. Vorr examined the room briefly, seeing only the two heavy tables normally stored here and a few wine bottles and pots lying broken in one filthy corner; low-bred orcs or goblins held their parties here, no doubt. The floor was still stained brown from the massacre after the invasion, and the stale air bore the stink of old blood. It would get a lot worse with the lich here as well, Vorr thought.

Motioning the other two inside, Von stepped back. The admiral came in first and stood along the wall nearest Vorr. The lich came in only after peering inside carefully, then motioning the general away from the door. Once all were inside, Von reached over to shut the door.

"Wait!" hissed the lich, hands out suddenly, pointing with pale white finger bones at both admiral and general. "Cursed you will both be if any tricks you try! In any circumstance, escape I shall, and wild my unhappiness will be! This clearly you understand?"

General Vorr briefly considered ways to call the lich's bluff and dismember it. He hated undead things and he hated this whole meeting, and the lich's paranoia was making it worse. He did not worry so much for his own safety, but having the scro promote another admiral would be time-wasting and bothersome, especially after he had spent the last few years getting used to this admiral's quirks.

"I understand," said Vorr, gently closing the door, "but wild our unhappiness will be if more threats you utter. I am not known for my patience. You would do best to start discussing your reasons for wanting to see us."

"Which involved gaining some great treasure, as I believe you mentioned," said the admiral smoothly, his arms folded across his robed chest. The admiral's steel chest protector did not show beneath the thick black fabric, the general noted. Nor did the admiral's weapons show at all in their leg sheaths. Good; it was better for the general's weapons to draw the lich's attention. If worse came to worst, the admiral might even be able to lend a sword in the fight, though his skills at diplomacy were a dozen times better than his meager sword-fighting techniques.

The lich's finger bones curled, and its arms fell toward its sides. "Greater than your brains can dream the treasure is," the lich said hoarsely. "Beyond my grasp it is, and dislike that I do. Dreamed of this treasure I have, long dreamed I have, and within my grasp it will one day fall. An army I need, and found it is. If in this treasure you are pleased, me will you serve to gain it?"

"We are not for hire, Skarkesh," said the admiral, raising a hand to scratch at his broad snout. "We have our own mission to perform, and we are deeply involved in it. You may have missed the signs, but we are at war."

"Yes, yes," hissed the lich, waving its arms in dismissal. "A war nice is, with toys of ships and a thousand toys of soldiers. Yes, it nice is. But nicer it is with bigger toys, and nicest with biggest toy of all ships. To find this biggest toy I wish, and the key now in this very sphere is. Knowledge of this big toy, the Spelljammer, you have?"

Neither general nor admiral spoke in reply. "Well?" hissed the lich more loudly. The carrion smell was noticeably stronger. "Of the Spelljammer you know? Or beyond your reasoning powers does it lie?"

"The Spelljammer" said Admiral Halker carefully, "is a mythical spelljamming ship the size of a small world. It's supposed to be shaped like a manta ray. Its coming is said to be an evil portent, as it brings destruction and chaos in its wake. No one can destroy it or command it, not even a god. It drives its captains insane. That's what the myths say."

"Mythical it is not!" the lich said heatedly. "Across centuries have I chased it, and for its secrets a thousand foes dead now are. Its secret buried in a sunless asteroid two years ago I found. The key to its power in a block of ice was frozen, and my lordservants, my umber hulks, to free it without harm could not." The lich's eyes glowed more brightly now. "Then! Then my captain-servant the block from me stole, he into black wildspace flew, coward thieving spew of lowest slave meat!" The lich was nearly screaming, its body shaking with rage. "Coward the block of ice from me stole, and chase him and kill him I did, but gone the block was. It lost had been, its worth unknown, to a reigar cow!"

For perhaps half a minute the lich rocked, then the shaking slowed quickly and stopped. "A reigar cow the cloak had stolen," it rasped tonelessly, pulling its hands back from the table to fall at its sides again. "Away in her ship, the Penumbra, she flew, by I and my servants pursued. She through the void we chased, and then…"

The lich broke off. Vorr heard a scratching sound and noticed that the lich was rubbing its finger bones together, over and over. He glanced at Admiral Halker, who appeared calm but watched the lich with narrow eyes.

"Then…" prompted the admiral.

The lich looked up and stared at them with cold light before it spoke, so quietly that Vorr had trouble hearing it dearly. "Then my servants… to kill me tried. Poison they tried. Hard I fought before escaping them. My little masters a yrthni ma'adi wanted, but gone then I was, and they a new one chose, no doubt. Gone I was… but back now I am. Different now I am, too. Better, you see." The lich raised its hands and spread its fingers, peering at them as if it had not seen them before. It looked up at the two who faced it, raising its hands to the ceiling. "Better, yes, better the cloak to find again, and it to wear and the Spelljammer to control!"

General Vorr understood almost nothing of the lich's last remarks. Every muscle in him was tensed to attack. It would be a snap. He would have to break out through the door to slay the umber hulks next to avoid losing his ogres to them, but the door wouldn't withstand more than one blow. If that ogre he'd sent away returned in the next few minutes with the company of ogre and scro reinforcements that the general had requested on the preprinted card, the fight would go a lot better. Admiral Halker wasn't the best judge of fighting strength, and Vorr was used to doubling the admiral's estimates of the size of the marine force required to accomplish any particular mission.

"I'm having some trouble following what you are saying," said the admiral quietly. "You say that you found some sort of cape or cloak that will allow you to control the Spelljammer- this nonmythical, mightiest of all ships-but one of your servants stole it. You chased down the servant and killed him, but a reigar had stolen it by then, and your other servants tried to murder you after that. You've since… well, changed into your current form, and now you want us to help you find and seize this cloak from the reigar."

The lich had watched the admiral intently as he spoke. "Little trouble with my words you have had," it said at last, "but reigar the cloak has not. My not-servants to slay her did succeed, but the cloak missing has been, by a human stolen away. This human I know where is. Clever he is, as all not-servants now not-alive are. With other ships and companions this human travels, ahead of me always. Now in this sphere he rests, on the Rock of Bral on this sphere's far side. Of this body you know?"

"It's an asteroid city of mixed population," said the admiral easily. "We have it charted. It's of no interest to us. Our quarrel is with but this one small world."

"Good news that is. With me you will serve then, this cloak to find?"

The admiral frowned with annoyance. "I think we've said that we are not for hire, Skarkesh. Besides that, you're implying that you, not we, will gain this treasure, tie cloak. Just what could we gain from following you?"

The lich said nothing for a while. General Vorr fidgeted, the strain of waiting to attack beginning to eat at him.

"The universe," said the lich.

There was a pause.

"I'm sorry?" said the admiral, leaning more closely.

"The universe," repeated the lich. "The benefit you as my servants would gain. Need you I will, when the cloak is to be found, and need you I will, when the Spelljammer later is found. Need you I will, when the universe beneath the wings of the Spelljammer is held, and all the worlds in existence mine will be. Need you I will, my riches to count and share."

The admiral looked at the lich without comment. His arms slowly unfolded, and the old scro rubbed his hands together before him, as if to warm them in a cold wind.

"What proof do you have that anything you have said is true?" asked Halker.

The lich tilted its head halfway to one side. "Proof?" Slowly, the lich reached for its side, dipping a skeletal hand into the lone pouch on its belt. "Proof?" it asked, and pulled out a heavy, round disk on a short chain. It set the disk and chain on the table before it. The disk appeared to be cast from bronze and was greatly worn. A few deeply carved geometric patterns remained on its weathered surface, forming a three-pointed star design.

"Proof," said the lich. "To examine it you arc allowed." The lich stood back with careless grace.

The general and admiral stared at the item without moving for it. "What is it?" asked Vorr, more out of curiosity than anything. He still craved an excuse to destroy the lich.

The lich gestured toward the disk. "Pick up you may."

The admiral weighed the risks, looked at General Vorr, then sighed heavily and reached for the disk. He touched it-and froze in midmovement. His eyes took on a glazed, unseeing look as he stared off into space.

"Admiral?" asked Vorr, glancing away from the lich. Seeing that the black-robed scro could apparently make no reply, Vorr tugged his sword from its sheath and took a heavy step toward the lich, who retreated. "If he's been cursed," Vorr said, his voice thick with promise, "you're garbage."

"Your admiral unharmed is," hissed the lich, eyes bright with angry green flames. Its hands rose, fingers spread. "But if closer you come, on your flesh the worms will feast tomorrow. Prepared for your treachery I was, gray orc meat, long before my ship here landed."

"What is happening to the admiral?" The words came out as Vorr moved in on the lich, his voice starting soft and growing in strength until he was almost shouting. His sword arm swung up, the tendons standing out on the back of his huge, hamlike fist as it gripped the pommel.

"Stop," said Admiral Halker flatly. Vorr froze, sword poised and ready to cut off the lich's hands. He held his position, waiting for more.

"Stop," said the admiral again. "Cease. This…" Vorr heard the admiral swallow. "This thing is speaking in my head, and I… I don't want to miss what it is showing me." The lich slowly stepped back, almost out of General Vorr's range but now backed up to the wall. The three of them held their positions for what seemed like an age, with the general's sword arm lowering slightly.

There was the sound of something being laid on the table. "General Vorr, put away your weapon. Now."

Licking his lips and feeling that he would regret this, the general did as he was told. The lich waited at the wall a little longer, its gaze focused on Vorr alone.

"Tomb of Dukagsh," said the admiral. Vorr looked at him sharply and saw that the admiral was a pale yellow now. "The things I saw. What is that?"

The lich moved from the wall, but not by far. "It by the hands of the ancients was built," it said. "Through the eyes of the Spelljammer it lets you see, world after world. Buried in the dark asteroid with the cloak this was, under the ice. This alone I kept when my servants then traitors became. Weak now this relic of old is, and not long to last. It my last clue to the Spelljammer is."

General Vorr suddenly reached down for the disk and chain himself. He picked it up in his thick fingers as the other two looked on. After looking it over for a few moments, he held it to his head, then put it down.

"You, too, through the Spelljammer's eyes see?" said the lich. "What revealed to you was?"

Vorr hesitated. He'd seen nothing, of course, being immune to the influences of magic. "Impressive," he said, and glanced at the admiral, waiting.

"It was startling, to say the least," said the old admiral, quickly covering for Vorr. "I saw a small green world below me, and there was a voice in my head that said the world was called Torus. The world was round but had a hole through it. It was so clear when I saw it."

"Sufficient proof now you have?" inquired the lich, edging closer to the table where the disk and chain lay. "Now my servants you will become, my cloak to rightfully rescue from the touch of a groundling human?"

Vorr felt something inside him snap. "We're not servants to any being but our own kind, Skarkesh," he said, his jaw tightening. "You'd best drop that word from your vocabulary before it gets some of your thin, little bones broken."

"Brave the gray giant's tongue is," retorted the yellow-eyed lich, stepping back and raising a hand toward him. "Will so brave the tongue be if in flames it is wrapped?"

Vorr's hand went for the hilt of his sword.

"Stop it!" bellowed the scro admiral. He slammed a fist onto a wooden tabletop. "By the Holy Tomb of Dukagsh, you will both cease this damned bickering! If we are to work together, then we are going to start now!"

The admiral pointed a withered hand at the lich. "Skarkesh, you threaten us once more, and not even a wishing ring will save you from us. I won't tolerate that kind of crap from anyone, especially not a dead wizard. If you want slaves, you can get them dirt cheap at any marketplace, and you can treat them however you want. But if you want a wildspace navy to back you up, you're going to pay through your eye sockets for it, and you're going to cut out this krajen dung about us being your servants. If we decide to help you-and I mean if we help you-you're not going to become our little brass god. If you don't like it, you can load your big rock-diggers out there back on your ship and get your bone-white ass off our planet. Do you understand me?"

General Vorr waited, watching the lich. His hand still hovered over his sword hilt. The next time he pulled it out, he'd use it, the admiral be damned.

The lich made no immediate reply, but the yellow-green light in its skull burned furiously. It lowered its hand quickly, reaching some decision. "Money and gems you may have," it said, its voice devoid of emotion. "Magic you may have. Slaves you may have. The cloak, not. For the cloak much I have suffered, too much to see in other hands it held. To me the cloak must go. Agree you must."

The old scro tilted his chin up. "We'd have no use for a gods-damned cloak. It's yours, but we'll have to work out the basics of what you're going to pay us. Trust me that it will be a king's sum, but if we accept your mission, we'll make it worth the cost."

"Then agreement we have?" asked the lich, appearing to have no trouble with those terms. "You my serv-my helpers on this quest will be? Soon we must leave if so, on to the Rock of Bral."

"General Vorr and I need to talk first," the admiral said, his anger appearing to dissipate. "But we need to talk alone. Will you excuse us?"

The lich was taken off guard, but it recovered quickly. It reached down and snatched up the bronze disk and chain, then sidestepped to the door. With a last look at the two, it pushed the door open and stepped outside.

With a nod from the admiral, General Vorr reached over and shut the door lightly, allowing them to hear any noises in the other room. The general trusted his ogres to raise a shout and attack if the lich made any hostile move. They wouldn't be able to do much to stop it, but once Vorr came out, the fight would be over. The ogres would have to handle the umber hulks on their own, but Vorr had faith in them.

Halker leaned against a table and massaged his pale, watery eyes with a thumb and forefinger. "Paranoid bastard, isn't he?" he remarked.

Vorr said nothing, still feeling the raw heat of his anger, but he nodded.

"I think our undead friend is insane," said the scro, looking up at the general, "but I also think he's telling the truth. I can't describe what happened when I touched that medallion. The vision I had was so real that…" He raised his hands helplessly. "The damned thing convinced me. Maybe he enchanted the medallion to do that, just to fool us, but I don't think so. He has nothing to gain. I think he needs us."

"I can believe he needs us to get the cloak that will let him control this Spelljammer," Vorr said in a low voice, "but that he needs us afterward to count his riches-I doubt that very much. All the tales I've ever heard about the Spelljammer were terror stories for infants. Every soldier and sailor in wild-space has heard them. They're all skawer crap. But if a tenth of what's said about the ship is true, and if Skarkesh were to get his bony little hands on it, he wouldn't need us. If he could rule the universe with that one ship, we'd be only flies to him. Everyone swats flies when they get in the way."

"Mmm-hmm," mumbled the admiral. He rubbed his wrinkled chin with thin fingers. "Certainly. Unless…" He left the thought unfinished.

The two commanders looked at each other in silence.

"I don't believe it would be the first time for you, would it?" said the admiral at last.

"I'd love the chance," said the general, "but I couldn't do a thing with the cloak. You know that."

"I'll need someone like that," said the admiral. "Someone I could trust to handle things. If a spell-casting lich can use the cloak, then perhaps a spell-casting scro admiral can, too." He raised both his hands, fingers apart. He didn't smile. "We'll need all the information we can get on this Spelljammer, and I don't mean baby tales. If we can use it against the elves, we might just win the war by ourselves."

Vorr's interest was rising by the second. He was starting to imagine leading his marines into action again. It would be good to fight after so long a peace. "We'd still have to follow his lead for a while," he said.

"That's another thing," said Halker. "He claims he can show us the way to the cloak, though I'm damned if I know how he could. Does he have a crystal ball, a seeing pool, a spell, or a helpful godling? I want to know how he knows. Usso could help us there, and maybe he could get a little more intelligence on the pyramid ship, too.

"One more thing. Skarkesh wants us to fly to the Rock of Bral, which, the last time I heard, has its own little navy. We could crush it, but we'd be wasting our strength on humans, not the Imperial Fleet. I'd like to avoid that unless absolutely necessary, no matter what the lich wants. Maybe a marine raid, in and out, something like that. You'd know what to do. Then we'd have the cloak."

Vorr nodded again, looking at the door as if he were looking through it. His face was set in stone, broad teeth showing between his drawn lips.

"Later," said Halker. "First, the cloak. Then…" He tilted his head toward the door.

Vorr considered that and smiled, showing all of his teeth. It was the first time the admiral had seen him smile since the landings on Spiral, when a zwarth had attacked the general's command post. "Don't want to forget the elves," Vorr said.

"I haven't," said the admiral.

"Then we're agreed to help him?"

"Mmm-hmm. But first have Usso check him out, just to make sure he's not pulling us along for something else. If his story is dear, then let's get on with it."

"Agreed." The general reached for the doorknob-and stopped, deep in thought.

"What's on your mind, General?"

Vorr shook his head briefly. "I was just wondering what route the lich took into the building."

Halker raised an eyebrow. "He and his bodyguards walked in. They came up through the goblins' quarter of the camp. The 'hulks wore those eye shrouds, and none of them gave us any trouble. Why?"

"Just curious, sir," he said. That tears it, he thought. If goblins wouldn't run from a lich, something was wrong. The truth was suddenly undeniable.

Skarkesh was not a real lich.

The general grunted, then opened the door. Together, they went out to greet their guest.

When General Vorr got back to his office late that night, he found his charcoaled chair replaced by a less-comfortable one. Fortunately, he'd been told that scro carpenters were at work on a replacement, though it would take a few days. A single light globe illuminated his command room. It looked a lot tidier now, but it still smelled of smoke and death. The breezes that blew through the broken windows would clear even that out in time. It being long after hours, the general wore only a military kilt and shoulder straps for small weapons. With the doors firmly closed and the guards properly warned for privacy, Vorr sat in his chair and waited for Usso's report.

"You called?" came the invisible feminine voice. "I'm not in the mood," Vorr said bluntly. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. "Just get it out."

He heard Usso snort. "Short of temper, are we? You wanted to know about the lich, or whatever it is? Well, it isn't a lich, I can tell that. You nailed that right. It lacks all the basic lich parts. A lich is a lot more than a bare skeleton in a robe. I couldn't break its disguise without it knowing, but it does show up as undead, as an organized evil being-which liches aren't particularly-and as thick with magic, especially illusion. It also has no personal history, so it isn't who it says it is. I'd guess it was another undead creature that for some reason wants to look like a lich. It's not lying about the cloak, anyway. It wants it so badly it could just about fall apart."

Vorr thought it over. He could end the charade by touching the lich, but he felt like playing along for now. "Can we trust it not to kill us if it gets the cloak?"

"Kobas," said the silken voice, "if you had your big hands ready to grab the universe by the neck, would you think anyone could trust you?"

Vorr grunted. "Recommendations?"

"Leave the ground troops here, the ores and goblins, but get the fleet up for a spin. Hit the Rock of Bral if the human's still there. When you grab the cloak, break some bones- Skarkesh's. And when you do get it, toss the cloak to me, not to that senile orc-dog you take orders from."

Vorr looked up sharply. "You are out of line."

There was faint laughter in the air. "Use that tone with me again, Kobas, and you can sleep by yourself."

Vorr felt his face darken. "If you play games with me," he said evenly, "I'll see that you go hungry for a month. You know I can do it. You know what that feels like. You know you can't escape me."

In the silence that followed, Vorr heard a presence stir behind him. A small, soft hand appeared on his left shoulder, sliding over his rough gray skin.

"You were joking with me, weren't you, Kobas?" said the sweet voice, a trace of anxiety behind it. "You know I hate to joke about that. I don't like to go hungry."

Vorr reached up, his broad hand swallowing hers whole. He slowly turned in his seat and looked into the long-lashed almond eyes of a human woman with long black hair. Her yellow-brown skin was paler than when he had last seen her; she must be quite hungry already. It had been three days since she'd fed last, on an elf prisoner who'd lasted only a day.

Vorr knew all that lay behind those eyes. If he gave Usso the cloak, she would be only marginally more trustworthy than the false lich. He'd have to watch her closely from now on and warn the war priests and the admiral if she showed signs of treachery; she'd be dangerous right up to the end. It was a good thing Usso couldn't read his mind the way she could everyone else's.

"Mad at me?" asked the woman. She ran her hands over the sides of his face. "Will you feed me soon?"

She'd love to have the Spelljammer, Vorr knew. She could pick her meals from any populated world she chose. She was almost as bad as a vampire. Vorr remembered seeing Usso for the first time, a prisoner from an Oriental human-built dragonship. She'd looked human enough; in fact, she'd looked like an old male wizard. The old man's skills and charisma had impressed his captors, and soon he was adopted into the Tarantula Fleet. Only the general knew the truth about her. All he'd had to do was to touch the old man, and the shapeshifted form had melted away. Vorr had kept Usso's secret, but he had named a price for it.

"Maybe," he said. "Maybe later tonight."

Her long white robes stirred in back; she had wagged her tail in her excitement. Hu hsien, she had called her race, fox women with spells and an endless hunger for human life energy. "I wish you could find a human for me, Kobas. I'm getting tired of those elves, but anything's better than a goblin. Could you find a human for me?"

"I might find one for you," Vorr said. Still holding her hand firmly in one of his own, he reached out and caught her under the chin, forcing her to look at him. "But you owe me, Usso, for ruining my fight today." His grip tightened as he pulled her closer, and she winced, her eyes tearing up with the pain. "You owe me a lot."

"Careful," she said in a quavering voice. "You get rough sometimes. Be careful, Kobas."

"Of course," he said.

It was a very good thing, the general thought again as he pulled her face to his, that she couldn't read his mind.