The Gossamer Plain

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

"There," Lakataki said. The azer who had originally accosted Vhok and Zasian pointed down into the valley far below them. The cambion peered where the fire-dwarf indicated and spied the efreet's mine. A great wall of shiny brass, pierced by a gate and protected by towers at regular intervals, surrounded a pit dug into the slope of a mountain. The molten glow of magma shone from within that pit. The only feature that jutted up from the interior that the half-fiend could see was a spindly, peculiarly shaped tower. Everything else was hidden. The whole scene shimmered and wavered, distorted by the heat that permeated the plane.

"What do they mine?" Zasian asked, staring alongside Vhok. The priest seemed impressed with the sight.

"Liquid glass," Lakataki replied. "It spills out of the ground there, just bubbles up to the surface. They gather it and pour it into molds right there within the fortress, before it cools. It's the purest, clearest glass anywhere," he said, but his tone was more bitter than proud.

"And the efreet make their slaves work the mine," Vhok said. "Members of your clan are down there."

"Yes," the azer said. "But more importantly, it used to be ours. The efreet came and stole it from us, captured or killed many and drove off the rest. We want it back."

"Where does the glass go after it is molded?" Zasian asked. He still stared raptly at the mine.

"Caravans take it to the City of Brass, where it is sold," Lakataki answered. "Merchants from every part of the multi-verse bid for glass that pure.".

"How many efreet are there?" Vhok asked. "How many should we expect to deal with?"

The azer sergeant shrugged. "Perhaps a dozen," he said. "Maybe twice that many live within the fortress, but half of them are usually away, raiding for more slaves to work the mine. Most of them are just cruel and greedy. There is one, though, the overseer. He is very clever. Hafiz al-Milhab. You must be wary of him. He is a giant even among his own kind."

"And how many slaves?"

"Perhaps a hundred, maybe more," Lakataki said. "Not all are azer. The efreet bring slaves of all types who are suitable to work the mine. Not all of them will thank you for their freedom, outlander," the fire-dwarf warned.

Vhok grunted in acknowledgment. That's going to be the least of our problems, the cambion thought.

"We will wait for you here," Lakataki said. "As Lord Cripakolus promised, if you free the slaves and return our mine to us, we will provide you with a guide to the City of Brass. Though why such sensible beings as yourselves would want to go there is beyond me," he muttered, half to himself.

With no reason to delay, Vhok and Zasian prepared to set out. The route down to the valley was steep and there was no trail from their vantage point, so Zasian performed his divine magic, granting both of them the ability to walk on air, as they had done the day before. Together, they descended. The pair kept their route close to the mountain, not wishing to have another unpleasant encounter with flying things that might mistake them for a meal.

The clan lord, Cripakolus, had been adamant. The two travelers were ordered to aid his clan in recapturing their prized mine and freeing the azer enslaved there. He had refused to even entertain the thought of releasing his two visitors, much less providing them a guide anywhere, until they had agreed. The duo were, in effect, his prisoners.

Of course, the azer lord had couched it in far different terms. He had told Vhok and Zasian that he could not in good conscience let honored guests roam the open plains beyond his mountain range while such dangers as efreeti slavers existed. The only way to ensure safe passage, he argued, was to eliminate the threat at its source.

Never mind that we're going to face them all at once, in their own territory, Vhok thought wryly.

After the half-fiend and priest agreed to the leader's terms, the azer held a great feast in their honor. It became apparent soon enough that none of the fire-dwarves expected the two to return from their rescue mission. The majority opinion among the azer was that the force of efreet was far too strong to be ousted by only two.

Vhok and Zasian had to provide their own food-nothing the azer consumed was of a temperature suitable for them-but they did sleep in relative comfort overnight. The shaman of the clan was able to create a chamber cool enough by enchanting a milky white sphere around it that kept out most of the heat.

After an equally festive breakfast with Cripakolus, the cambion and the priest were led outside, through a different cavern, to the back side of the mountains. There, Lakataki had taken them to the vantage point. From that point on, they would be on their own.

"Not very bright of them to just let us walk off," Zasian remarked as they worked their way down the mountain. Walking upon the air, even at the steep angle they chose, offered the decided advantage of being able to bypass the crystalline trees that peppered the slopes. "They didn't really dangle much incentive for us to return," he added.

"I see no reason to," Vhok said. "The foolish sergeant admitted that caravans travel to the City of Brass to sell the glass. I think we can figure out a way to go the same direction," he suggested, chuckling.

"It makes me wonder which of us had the more realistic expectation. Is Ctipakolus that foolish, or did he bait us into departing, figuring he got two bags of gems out of the deal, if nothing else?"

"He really doesn't lose, I suppose," Vhok remarked. "Either we do as we say and he gets his mine back, or we try and fail and he gets rid of us without any trouble, or we just leave, and he gets rid of us without any trouble."

"I guess the real question is, should we pay a visit to the efreet when we get down there?" the priest said. "Do you think he'll be interested in finding out that a troop of azer is hiding in the mountains, spying on him?"

"It might convince him to find a way to get us to the City of Brass more quickly," Vhok said. "I wonder how hard it will be to get in to see him?"

"Perhaps we should try the back entrance," Zasian suggested with a smile.

When the two of them got close enough to the fortress that they feared being spotted, they paused. "This is probably close enough on foot," Vhok said. "To the top of the tower?" he offered.

"Seems as good a starting point as any," Zasian replied.

Vhok nodded and put new magic into use. With a word and a touch, he transformed them both into vapor. They could no longer speak, but their destination was unobstructed and visible. Together, they continued on, traveling as gaseous clouds. They were virtually invisible among all the blowing smoke and ash that perpetually wafted through the plane. They closed the rest of the distance to the brass walls and maneuvered to one side, far from the main gate. Then they went up and over the wall.

The interior of the fortress seemed barren and utilitarian to Vhok. Other than the tower, there were two other buildings, long and low, against the two side walls of the place. They appeared to be either barracks or prison cells.

Probably both, the cambion mused.

By far the largest feature of the mine was the pit itself. Like a great, inverted ziggurat, the hole in the ground was terraced at regular intervals, growing smaller with each successive level down. Slaves worked at every level. They lined the terraces, struggling to maneuver huge copper basins into place beneath sluggish flows of white-hot material that oozed from the walls. Above them, cranes hoisted filled basins into the air and to the side, to be replaced with empty ones. Other slaves worked the substances into molds, using large hinged and counterweighted frames to tip the basins sideways. The liquid glass, cooling to a bluish color, seeped into the molds, hardening into clear, pristine objects. Vhok witnessed an endless cycle of harvesting.

Their transformation spell would expire soon, Vhok knew, so he pushed onward, rising easily with the heated air currents toward the top of the tower. He flowed into the domed and columned enclosure of a cupola there, where a lone efreeti served as a lookout.

The efreeti leaned against the banister and stared over the work being done in the pit below. The creature was thick-limbed like a giant, though his bony head, with its smallish horns, reminded the cambion more of a demon than anything. The efreeti's skin, brick red in color, seemed to shimmer and smoke from the heat he gave off. Vhok knew that such genies normally stood twice as tall as the half-fiend, but the one before him was no more than his own height. The efreeti had used magic to reduce himself, to compensate for the low ceiling within the tower, which had been built by dwarves.

The cupola was perhaps six paces wide, large enough for the cambion and the priest to slip inside and transform unnoticed by the genie. As Vhok restored himself to solid form, Zasian appeared beside him. The priest gave the half-fiend a gesture to hold, then fetched something from within his tunic. He nodded to the cambion to proceed.

Vhok crept up behind the efreeti and slipped Burnblood around his neck, at the same time sliding the creature's oversized falchion from his sash and tossing it away. The genie tensed, but the half-demon pressed the blade tighter against the creature's throat. "Easy there," he said. "Don't ruin it all by dying. We just want to talk."

The genie held still a moment longer, then slowly relaxed. "I yield," he growled. His voice was a deep, crackling rumble, reminding Vhok of a burning blaze. "Do not slice up poor Amak."

"Excellent," the cambion said, spinning himself and his captive slowly away from the banister to face Zasian. The priest clutched his necklace in his hand and seemed prepared to invoke divine magic at the slightest hint of trouble. "My companion there," Vhok continued, "is ready to end your life with a word of power if he thinks you are not dealing justly with us. Do I make myself clear?"

The efreeti tried to nod and nicked himself on the half-fiend's blade. "Undoubtedly clear," he said. "Amak will not turn on you."

Vhok smiled. "Good. We wish to speak with the overseer. A big, nasty genie named Hafiz?"

"Yes, yes," the efreeti said, trying to nod enthusiastically. "You must speak with Hafiz at once. He is the overseer here."

"Excellent. This is working out well, don't you think? Now, how should we go about finding Hafiz?"

"I will take you to him, yes, indeed," Amak said. "If you will just release me, I will show you the way at once."

"Now, if I let you go, I can trust that you won't give me any trouble, right?" Vhok said. "Otherwise, my companion here will be forced to disintegrate you or something equally unpleasant. You don't want that, do you?"

"Absolutely not," the efreeti said with all sincerity. "I promise, no nonsense."

"All right, then," Vhok said. He stepped back from the efreeti and removed his blade from the creature's throat.

Amak the efreeti half-turned and gave a glance at his tormentor. When he saw Vhok, he seemed to start the slightest bit, but he did not otherwise acknowledge the cambion. "This way," he said simply, and motioned toward an opening in the floor leading to a set of stairs. "I will take you to the overseer."

Vhok went down first, in order to keep Amak between himself and Zasian, who brought up the rear. They followed the staircase down, which wound around the hollow inside of the tower for several turns. The walls of the tower were pierced with narrow openings that permitted light to enter the vertical chamber, though it was dim. At the bottom of the stairs, Amak motioned that they should pass through a large door set into the wall. The door appeared made of thick brass set into an equally stout frame.

When Vhok pulled on the door, it wouldn't budge. He gave the efreeti an accusing look.

Amak frowned, seemingly puzzled. "Pull harder," he urged.

The cambion slipped his sword into its sheath and took hold of the handle with both hands. He gave the door a hard yank but it would not open. "All right," he said, turning to chastise the efreeti. "What's going o-"

The creature jerked a single fist forward and smacked it hard into Vhok's face. The cambion grunted in pain as he recoiled from the punch. His head bounced hard against the door, sending stabbing pain through his skull and sparks crackling through his vision.

Amak lashed out with his foot, driving the heel of it into Zasian's chest. The priest staggered backward, almost losing his balance. Rather than pursuing them, the efreeti faded from view.

"Zasian!" the half-fiend croaked, dizzy. He fumbled for his blade. "He's escaping!" Vhok shouted.

Burnblood didn't seem to want to work properly, and the cambion slid to the floor as his balance left him. Settling on his backside, Vhok cursed his complacency. He knew the magic the efreeti was employing all too well; he and Zasian had used it to gain access to the tower and surprise the creature. The efreeti was turning the tables on them.

Insubstantial, his physical body a roiling cloud of vapor, Amak settled to the floor like a puddle and slid underneath the door. Vhok reached for his wand as the gaseous figure slipped away bit by bit. The half-fiend leveled the magical device in the direction of their quarry and grunted the command word. Four sparks darted from the tip and crackled as they snapped into the misty form. The attack didn't have a noticeable effect, but Vhok knew that such magical darts could hurt even vaporous creatures.

He readied the wand to fire off more missiles, but the last of the efreeti's form slipped beneath the door and escaped.

"Damn it to the Nine Hells!" Vhok swore. He slumped against the wall and closed his eyes to try to get the chamber to stop spinning.

"Here," Zasian said, stepping over to the cambion. "A little healing. Sorry I wasn't faster," he added. He placed his hands upon Vhok's head and said a prayer.

Vhok felt the soothing magic flow into him and dissolve the pain pounding behind his eyes. When Zasian finished the ritual, Vhok waved the priest's apology away. "We both let down our guard. He'll pay," the half-fiend promised, rising to his feet. "But we've got to catch up to him, first."

Zasian grabbed the handle of the door and yanked hard. "Definitely locked," he said.

"Fortunately," the cambion said, "I have just the magic to solve this little problem." He muttered an arcane word, and the bolt in the lock clicked.

The Banite pulled on the handle and the door swung open easily. The duo braced themselves for an attack, but none came.

As Zasian swung the door wider, they could see a massive, smoke- and flame-filled warehouse beyond. The doorway led onto a rocky platform near the ceiling of a vast, open space. Vhok realized that the room before them was cut into the mountain, beneath the tower. Instead of brass construction, everything was glowing, popping stone. Fumaroles along the sides of the chamber vented hissing, foul-smelling gases. Jets of fire spewed from cracks and holes like the magical flames from a wizard's hands. The entire warehouse chamber shimmered from the undulating heat and rising smoke.

A caravan of great bronze-colored wagons filled most of the floor of the warehouse. Wide and flat, the wagons held stacked molds filled with still-cooling glass items. Vhok realized the efreet would not unpack the molds until the wagons reached their destination, in order to minimize breakage. Large beasts of burden, vaguely similar to blazing rothe, were hitched to the wagons. It appeared as though the caravan would be departing soon.

"There," Zasian said, pointing.

Vhok peered in the direction the priest indicated and spotted a wispy vapor moving against the updrafts in the room. It was headed toward a congregation of efreet who had gathered near a pair of huge bronze doors at the front of the chamber. They seemed to be in the midst of a jovial discussion. They loomed over the handful of manacled azer working at their feet, but one stood a head above the rest.

The cloud of wispy white swirled close and transformed. Vhok recognized Amak the moment he materialized. The efreeti bowed low to his imposing counterpart and began animatedly talking and pointing toward the door where Vhok and Zasian stood.

The larger efreeti, whom Vhok suspected was Hafiz the overseer, looked up and spotted the two interlopers. Anger contorted his expression. The cambion saw him reach for the massive falchion tucked into his sash as the others around him did the same. The overseer pointed and gave harsh commands, and the rest of the efreet spread out, moving toward the duo. A few remained behind, cracking whips at the azer to keep the slaves working.

On impulse, Vhok raised his arm and gave a friendly wave. Then he turned to Zasian. "Let's go meet him," he said. "Win him over. That's why we're here, right?"

The priest gave Vhok a bemused smile, mildly surprised at the suggestion. "All right," he said at last. "It just might work."

Vhok slipped Burnblood into its sheath and considered how best to reach the floor of the warehouse. A narrow set of steep steps cut into the natural stone wall descended toward the ground level. The staircase and the wall next to it cooked the air with their heat and fire.

"Meet you at the bottom," the cambion said, and leaped over the end of the rocky platform. He channeled his innate magic, floating down to the floor at a casual pace. When he settled his feet on the ground, he strolled toward the efreet, who were stalking toward him menacingly.

Hafiz led the pack. Bare-chested, he looked fierce and angry. He had adorned himself with brass jewelry, necklaces and earrings, and a set of bracers on his thick, muscular wrists. The horns jutting from his furrowed, demonic forehead were slightly lighter in color than his deep red skin, as were the tusks protruding from his mouth. He did not look in a mood to parley, but Vhok maintained his air of calm and casual friendliness.

"Greetings, O exalted Hafiz!" he called out, waving again. "My companion and I"-and the cambion jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward Zasian, who had taken the stairs-"come before you today as weary travelers seeking your aid. I pray we can offer you some mutual benefit in exchange, hmm?"

Hafiz, taken aback slightly by Vhok's disarming smile and words, drew up a few paces from the cambion. He turned his falchion point down and leaned against the pommel as he studied the half-fiend. The other efreet fanned out to form a semicircle around Vhok. Zasian joined his companion and offered a bow before the overseer.

"Who sent you here?" Hafiz demanded, his voice even deeper and more rumbling than Amak's had been.

"No one," Vhok said. "Well, that's not entirely true. A foolish azer clan lord showed us where this magnificent mine was, and asked us to rid it of your presence, but we thought better of such nonsense and came instead to pay homage and negotiate some assistance."

At the mention of the azer, Hafiz bristled. A deep growl issued from him and his eyes glittered. The other efreet reacted similarly. "You are pawns of the azer?" the overseer said. "They think they can send two puny outlanders to slay us? That is rich!" The efreeti laughed, a thunderous, echoing sound. He leaned back, guffawing heartily.

Vhok maintained his smile, but he seethed at such disrespect. Puny, indeed, he thought.

When Hafiz regained his composure, Vhok continued. "Our thoughts exactly," he said. "Obviously, we offer you notice of their presence in the mountains overlooking this mine. If you wish to capture them, that is your concern. We, however, must reach the City of Brass as quickly as possible, and thought perhaps we might offer ourselves as guards for your next caravan heading to that august city."

Hafiz eyed the cambion with a smirk. "You wish to go to the City of Brass?" he said. "How excellent. I have just promised my brother a new shipment of exotic slaves for his amusement." To the other efreet gathered around, he said, "Seize them."

Aliisza wanted to scream. Just die already! she thought. Choke, or cut your own head off, or drown in your soup kettle. Whatever you do, get out of my head!

But the old woman didn't react. She took another hack at the log, trying in vain to split it. Another feeble attempt, and the log skittered away again. Aliisza tried to turn her back on the scene. She could still feel it going on. The elderly man, standing in his soldier's uniform, bow slung across his back. She felt him watching the woman, the tears welling in his eyes.

She hated them both.

She felt his pain.

The alu forced the image to fade. Instead of the garden at night, though, she found herself inside the tailor's shop. The girl with the apron appeared in the back doorway. Master Velsin stared at her in anger and sent her to the private room, where she would spend the day half-naked in front of lascivious men who ogled her and pawed at her body and worse.

No! Not this again, Aliisza groaned. Enough!

The alu jerked her sword free and tried to slice the girl's head from her neck. The blade passed right through the image. The girl never reacted. She slowly, inexorably made her way into the dim room and began to disrobe. Aliisza tried to hack at the girl, the dresses, the lecherous Yrudis Gregan. The scene never changed, never wavered.

Aliisza flung her sword away and forced the image to fade.

She saw no garden, only the temple of Ilmater. A young woman, face beaming, prayed to her new god, thumbs pink and fresh. Aliisza summoned a magical ball of flame. She tried to blast the girl, the temple, scorch it and burn it to the ground.

No one reacted. The temple remained intact.

The alu yanked a dagger from her boot. She stared at the blade, feeling her heart pound. She would put it into her own eyes. They couldn't make her see the visions if she had no sight. Anything to make it stop. She held the pointed end up, stared at the very tip.

With a rush of resolve, she rammed the dagger into her own skull.

White light blazed, and pain. So much pain. She screamed, yanked the dagger away. She clutched at her ruined eye, trying to hold the hot dampness in place. The pain made her dizzy. She sank down to her knees, sick to her stomach.

The other one, she told herself. Finish it.

Still clutching the dagger, she felt for the tip, placed it upon the closed lid of her remaining orb. The pain made her hand tremble. She didn't think she could do it.

Before she could think about it, she shoved the dagger home.

The world spun and went dark in a haze of pain.

Aliisza came to awareness. The sun warmed her face, but the air was cool. The alu heard the sound of two children playing. The streets of Sundabar bustled with life on the far side of the garden wall. Her eyes were closed, but she could see the brightness of daylight through the lids.

She brought a single hand up to her face. Afraid, she touched one eyelid. It was intact. She turned away from the sun and let her eyes flutter open.

She could see. The memory of the terrible pain remained with her.

Damn you, Tauran, she cried, thankful and angry all at once. I can't live this anymore. Please! Help me!

She hated herself for being so weak. It wasn't just the visions. She might have been able to watch them all day long if they were merely visions. It was the sorrow. She felt what her ghost tormentors felt. She knew their suffering. The anguish seeped into her, made her hurt. She couldn't block out the hurt.

The girl with the apron appeared, spoke to the children. Aliisza didn't even hear the words. The sadness radiating from their father, standing in the corner of the little garden, was drowning the alu. Numbly, she followed the young woman. She felt the girl's worry, felt her concern for her siblings.

And for her unborn baby.

There isn't enough food, the girl thought, and Aliisza could hear her. The rent is overdue. Sadil needs new shoes, and Kaiga, a cloak. How can I take care of this baby? Master Velsin will be angry that I'm late, but it was so hard to arise and dress. I need to eat, but the children need it more.

Stop it, Aliisza pleaded. Stop telling me this.

Oh, an apple, the girl thought, slowing by the barrel of fruit. Just one. I could take it-he wouldn't see.

Yes, Aliisza silently shouted. Take it! Eat it! Take care of your baby!

No, the girl thought. I shouldn't. It's not right.

Fool, Aliisza scolded. Serve yourself first. The merchant will not know the difference.

How could I raise my child to be truthful and honest if I cannot even follow that advice myself? the girl thought. No, she decided firmly.

That last thought hit Aliisza hard. How can I look my own child in the face, if I ever get to see him? she wondered. What would I tell him of myself? What could he care?

I'll beg Master Velsin for a few extra coppers, the girl mentally continued, ignoring Aliisza's revelation. Just a couple, to help with the food. I'll even…

The last thought from the girl came to Aliisza as an image, and it made her cringe. She was willing to debase and humiliate herself, let the cretin touch her, for the sake of her younger siblings and her unborn baby.

To the hells with that, Aliisza thought. Enough.

The alu raced ahead to the tailor. She entered the back room and found the man sitting at his work table, laying out fabric. The stink of his lecherousness roiled off him. She found him disgusting. She wanted to kill him.

You worm, she thought. You're too low to seek out the willing pleasure of a harlot? You have to prey on this girl? What did she do to you?

To Aliisza's utter amazement, the man was looking at her. He seemed surprised to see her standing there.

"Who are you?" he asked. "What are you?"

Aliisza couldn't speak. It wasn't real. It wasn't happening. Was it?

"Coward," she said. "I ought to slide this blade through your gut right now, let you dangle upon it and bleed out. It would take several days, you know. And I've got time."

The man blanched. "I don't know you," he stammered, standing and backing away. "Tell me what you want. Coins? They're in the strongbox. T-take them. Please. But don't hurt me."

Delighted, Aliisza crossed the floor and stood directly opposite the man, facing him across his work table. "Never mind who I am," she said. "All you need to remember is that I exist, and I know where you live."

The man swallowed hard.

Aliisza picked up a needle from the work table. "The girl that works for you," she said casually, examining the tiny shaft of metal. "The one who's late.'"

Master Velsin nodded vigorously. "Yes. Lizel," he said.

"Well, if you ever touch her again, or let any of your customers touch her, I'm going to come back here and tie you to this table and find all sorts of interesting places to put your needles. Are we clear?"

The man's eyes widened. "Y-yes!" he said. "C-clear!"

"You're going to pay her better, too," the alu said. "How much do you give her to work here?"

"Um," the man began, scrunching up his face in fear. "Three coppers a day."

Aliisza fumed. "She could make more than that selling her body on the Silk Way!" she growled. "You are a wretch. I should make you pay her what you earn! No," she said, inspired. "I should drag you to the district and let you service the dandies. I hear some of them secretly worship Loviatar. They pay well for the privilege of using you in their worship rituals, but we'd let Lizel have the coin. Wouldn't that be fun? Yes, I like that," she finished, smiling.

The man whimpered. "I'll give her five silvers a day," he yammered, wringing his hands. "And no more of the other. I promise!"

"Good boy," Aliisza purred, walking around the work table to stroke his chest with her hand. Master Velsin quaked at the alu's touch. "And you're going to excuse her for being late, because she's with child, and she has to take care of her little brother and sister. And you're never going to dock her pay because of it, right?"

"Right," the man whispered. His eyes were nearly rolling back in his head from fright.

"Because, after all, I know where to find you, don't I?"

"Yes," he gasped. "I swear, it will be as you say. Now please, leave me be."

Aliisza chuckled and headed toward the door. She paused and turned back. She gave the trembling man one last baleful stare and said, "Yrudis Gregan had better be out of this shop before Lizel gets here." And with that, the alu walked out into the daylight.

It took her several moments to notice that the ghost of Lizel's father was no longer around.