The Gossamer Plain

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Aliisza felt the world shudder around her. So many emotions, so many thoughts hit her all at once. A part of her mind thought it was a trick. Tauran had brought some imposter to her, some half-drow that could not possibly be her son, in order to trick her, to test her somehow. But peering at that face, with its slightly arched eyebrows and high, delicate cheekbones, she knew it was her son.

Hers and Pharaun's.

All that time, she had believed she carried Kaanyr Vhok's whelp within her. It was the only outcome she had considered, and when the error of her thinking made itself clear, she wanted to kick herself for her own foolish shortsightedness.

More emotion flooded through her. It began with a tingling, a feeling of something pressing against the back of her skull, at the base. Some dam that was on the verge of bursting hovered there.

And it was gone, and a torrent of memories hit her.

Aliisza staggered at the arrival of the onrushing visions. She watched them unfold inside her head as though she were there all over again.

She was standing in the passage of the Master's Hall, facing Zasian Menz. She was disguised as Ansa, dressed only in a nightshirt, and he was reprimanding her for her prowling so late at night.

"You put me in a very difficult position, child," he said.

"Yes, sir," she replied. "I will be more careful."

"And now," the seneschal added, pulling a pendant from his shirt, "I must prepare you for your impending journey."

Aliisza started, unsure what the handsome man meant, but suddenly wary. "What journey?" she asked, prepared to edge away from whatever the man had been about to inflict upon her.

"Kaanyr Vhok needs you to do this," Zasian replied, twirling the pendant in his fingers. "A very long and arduous journey, a potentially deadly one."

Aliisza's mouth gaped. "Who is Kaanyr?" she asked, feigning ignorance. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"It's all right, Aliisza," the seneschal answered. "I'm helping him. We've entered a pact to take the city together. I know your task is to secretly discredit Helm Dwarf-friend, but Vhok needs you for something more important now. We're going to meet you at the other end of this journey. You will be our key, to unlock the portal that is hidden. Without you, we cannot hope to succeed."

And he had proceeded to tell her many things. He had known she was with child, and he explained that her condition was necessary to make her journey. Her pregnancy would be the bait that would draw Tyr's lackeys to her, would tease them into capturing her with the intention of sparing her. He admonished her that she would need to protect the baby, whatever the cost. He had gone so far as to place a magical spell, a geas, he had called it, upon her to force her to comply. He explained that it would act subtly, without her knowledge, because she would not know that it existed. She would not know her own role in the game, for the angels would ferret it out of her. She had to be ignorant, he explained. He had given her instructions to follow, a litany of tasks to complete once she remembered them.

And, before she could protest, before she could resist, Zasian Menz had made her forget it all.

She had gone through all the trials and tribulations without that knowledge, believing she had simply been caught and confronted, a quirk of unfortunate chance. She had spent her captivity fearful and ashamed that she had somehow failed her cambion lover.

But it came rushing back. Every last bit of it, including her anger and feelings of betrayal that Kaanyr would use her so, would endanger their child for some greater scheme of his. He had put her in that position himself.

Aliisza understood, too, that Zasian had set conditions for her to recall those forgotten memories. He had set the trigger to be her first glimpse of her own child.

All of that recollection, the whole of it, had been locked away in Aliisza's mind. Seeing her son had unleashed it. It had taken but an instant to regain, but the flood so overwhelmed her that she gasped and dropped to the ground, exhausted.

She tried to draw air. She needed to make sense of what she had just learned, to reconcile it with everything that had changed about herself during the tendays and months of solitude, of self-reflection. She struggled to wrap her mind around it, but it was just too much.

And something more bombarded the alu.

Magic coursed into Aliisza's mind. Spells materialized, planted there by Zasian, powerful dweomers set to trigger once she had regained her lost memories. He had hidden them away, like the memories themselves, to keep the celestials from seeing them. She understood his intentions in the heartbeat it took for the arcane power to manifest.

In a second heartbeat, the magic activated.

Aliisza felt a rush. Something vanished from her, some veil that had been drawn over her mind. Magic, she saw. Powerful and blinding force, designed to make her view certain events a particular way. All of the agony she had experienced, all of the doubt and guilt that had consumed her during her visions became an artificial thing. The shame she had felt, the divine guidance that had led her to exhibit compassion and kindness lifted, separated from her. Aliisza saw it at last for what it was.

Trickery. Deception. Manipulation.

Tauran the holy celestial, Tauran the kind angel, Tauran of the uncompromising, idealistic convictions, had used magical coercion to change her point of view. The pain, the sorrow she had felt on Lizel's behalf was not her own. It had not come from the visions alone. Divine magic conjured by the lackeys of Tyr had created it, amplified it, and thrust it upon her.

And Zasian's spell had cast it off again.

She saw the world without guise once more. She understood her role within it, her part to play. She was a half-fiend, a powerful and cunning entity who showed no mercy, who tolerated no weakness. She knew what she wanted, and she claimed it for herself. That was how it had always been, and that was how it would remain forevermore. No one would control Aliisza through foolish, weepy emotions. Not Tauran, not Kaanyr, not ghosts from past lives.

Aliisza wanted to shout, wanted to jump up into the air and crow. A shout of triumph, to show she could not be chained. But she was still a prisoner, and there was more of Zasian's magic at hand.

A blinding flash of light struck her, knocked her consciousness from her body.

The disorientation of the seneschal's magic made Aliisza's awareness spin. It felt as though she had left her body, was floating somewhere far beyond herself, like she had felt within the gray void. But it was different, much more frightening. And it lasted only an instant.

Then the alu discovered that she was staring at herself. She felt odd, not entirely right. Some sensations were missing, some new ones replaced them. As she stared, Aliisza watched her own body crumple to the ground. It looked as if she had fainted, but she was still awake.

Awake in another's body.

The half-fiend gasped, and her voice was different, more masculine. She swayed and stuck a hand out to the bench to steady herself. That hand was charcoal in color, with thicker fingers. Aliisza stared at it, realizing at last where she was.

She inhabited her son's form.

The half-fiend sank down, taking a seat on the bench, overwhelmed. She watched Tauran kneel down to check on her body, concern on his face. He leaned in close and listened to her breathing and sighed in relief.

"She fainted," he said, looking at Aliisza. "Your mother just wasn't expecting to see you as your father's son," he explained, kindness in his voice.

Aliisza didn't trust herself to answer. She swallowed hard and nodded.

"I guess you're a bit overwhelmed, too," the angel said. "You rest for a moment while I take her to her bed. Then we'll talk. You still have a lot to figure out, I suppose."

You don't know the half of it, Aliisza thought. She felt like glaring at the deva, but she instead gave him a weak, uncertain smile.

Tauran hoisted the alu's body onto his shoulder. Then he turned and trudged from the garden, through the portico toward the half-fiend's quarters.

Once he was out of sight, Aliisza drew a great, shuddering breath and tried to steady her nerves. Everything at last made some sense. Zasian had embedded latent magic within her that would cause her to shift bodies. She wondered what became of her son's consciousness.

Did we trade places? Does he now inhabit my form?

The alu felt a brief pang of regret, but it was short-lived. An opportunity lay before her, one that she was just beginning to recognize and understand. Zasian had locked so many secrets inside her that when they finally were released, it had been a flood. All of the memories, the magic, had come out in a rapid jumble, too fast to comprehend. They had slammed into the alu in only a few heartbeats, the moment she had seen her son's face. But with a few moments to herself, sitting on the bench, she was starting to grasp the seneschal's intentions. Zasian had thought everything through.

And he'd set it all up, she realized, so that Tauran wouldn't notice a thing. As far as the angel was concerned, Aliisza still resided in her own body, was still adjusting to her newfound sense of compassion and selflessness. Zasian had planned well. He had given the alu a means to escape, and to escape notice in the process.

Aliisza smiled to herself. She had an appointment to keep. Kaanyr was waiting on the far side of a portal, and she was the only one who could open it for him. She had to keep the deva from guessing the truth, would have to play it all carefully, but she would get to that doorway. She would unlock the ancient path. Nothing was going to stop her, so long as she kept her cool.

And there would be hell to pay. Everyone was accountable. Tauran, Kaanyr, Zasian. They all would answer to her wrath.

With his back pressed against the stone wall, surrounded by furious efreet who towered twice as tall as himself, Vhok had but one place to go. He levitated. As his feet left the ground and he rose into the air, Amak recognized the trick. The genie snarled in rage and leaped forward to deliver a killing blow before Vhok could evade him.

The cambion doubted he could slip away in time.

At that moment, the wall beside the half-fiend distorted. An arm, clad in black and silver, jutted from the rock as though it had grown there. It elongated, became a torso and head, and the rest of Zasian appeared, stepping free of the wall. He held his arm out, pointed, and uttered a phrase of power.

The Banite emerged from the wall slightly to one side of Vhok and the genie. Amak had been so focused on reaching the cambion that he did not see the priest in time. The efreeti jerked and stumbled to a stop, understanding that the human was bringing magic to bear, but he could not retreat from Zasian's outstretched finger or swing the falchion to defend himself.

Zasian nimbly darted toward the efreeti and tapped him once on the hip with the tip of his finger. As the priest sprang away again, out of reach of the genie's blade, a crackling sheen of dark energy swarmed over Amak. The black force flowed like roiling tendrils across the genie's body.

Amak shuddered and seized up. He arched his back and his eyes rolled back in his head. A great, primal scream emanated from him. He dropped the falchion and fell to his knees. The black energy crackled and faded, then the genie pitched forward, facedown. His body twitched a time or two, but otherwise lay still.

The other efreet stared in shock and awe at the corpse of their companion.

Vhok floated down to the ground. He came to rest beside Zasian, who stood glaring at the genies with his arms folded across his chest. The cambion drew a deep breath and added his own baleful stare.

"I trust no one else wishes to continue the folly of this dispute," Vhok said.

The gathered efreet began to mumble among themselves. None stepped forward.

"Excellent," Vhok said with a smile. "Then let me reiterate that my associate and I merely wish to find a guide to the City of Brass. We have no interest in wresting your precious mine from you."

Negotiating a trip to the efreet's capital was surprisingly easy. Vhok and Zasian observed a brief power struggle among the remaining genies to determine who would assume control of the mine. That task was interrupted by a short-lived slave revolt, which Vhok and Zasian helpfully put down. When the dust settled, the new efreeti leader agreed to transport the two visitors to the City of Brass as quickly as possible.

Before long, the cambion and the priest were racing across the Infernals, the small sea of magma between themselves and their destination, upon a magical flying carpet. A single efreeti commanded the conveyance, sitting cross-legged at the front. Vhok and Zasian sat side by side behind their guide, keeping a careful watch all around. They did not care to have another unpleasant visit from the flying beasts.

A hot wind, stinking of sulfur, whipped the half-fiend's hair. Smoke drifted in great clouds across their path, and their guide did his best to avoid the worst of it. Below them, the ocean of lava frothed and churned, and Vhok understood the difficulties they would have faced trying to cross it in a boat. The ships that traveled upon the Infernals stuck close to shore because the sea was a tempest away from the coast. Keeping a craft afloat would have required something close to a miracle.

From time to time, the efreeti guide cast a fearful glance back at the pair. He seemed nervous about their intentions toward him. He regularly promised swift and accurate service and tried to assure his guests that nothing would interfere with them arriving at the City of Brass as fast as the carpet would allow.

Vhok was delighted with the turn of events. He and the Banite were speeding toward their destination, no longer trudging across broiling stone and free of assaults from native creatures. He congratulated himself on the decision to visit the mine, even though Hafiz had nearly delivered them into slavery or death.

After another period of travel, Vhok spotted it. Through the haze and smoke of the searing atmosphere, he spied the myriad spires of the City of Brass. They rose on the horizon like a multitude of fingers jutting up from the sea of lava, topped with minarets. As the travelers drew closer, the magnificent city came into view. From their distance, Vhok estimated that the city stretched forty miles or more across. The entire place rested within a great hemispherical bowl of magnificent size that floated upon the sea of fire. The city rose like some misshapen ziggurat from within that bowl, with the Grand Sultan's palace-the Charcoal Throne-near the center, at the highest point.

The guide steered the carpet closer and swooped lower, angling toward a place on the rim of the bowl. As Vhok peered ahead, he saw a huge gate there, an entrance to the city.

The half-fiend leaned forward and tapped the efreeti on the shoulder. "Why not just take us to the center of the city?" he asked over the howling wind. "A nice inn, perhaps, some place that caters to travelers such as ourselves. No need to stop at the gate."

The genie cast a sour glance back at Vhok and adjusted his flight path. "It is forbidden," he explained. "All visitors must arrive by one of the gates around the city. To do otherwise is to break the Grand Sultan's laws."

Vhok rolled his eyes, but he shrugged and motioned for the efreeti to continue on his course. The cambion leaned over to Zasian. "I guess the Grand Sultan wants to make certain he gets his gate taxes," he said with a grimace.

The priest only nodded.

The efreeti slowed the carpet and guided it down as they neared a large open plaza before the gate. A broad set of steps descended from the edge of the plaza into the sea of fire. Vhok supposed it had been built so that creatures native to that element and others upon floating craft could arrive and depart easily. At the moment, no one was there.

The genie set the flying carpet down close to the gate. As the great rippling tapestry touched down, Vhok stood and stretched. Zasian rose beside him and stepped off the carpet. Once Vhok disembarked, the genie gave them a cursory salute. "Simply announce yourselves to the guards, and they will charge a small fee to pass through," the efreeti explained. "Welcome to the City of Brass," he added. "Enjoy your stay."

Before Vhok could respond and thank their guide, the efreeti had the carpet aloft and was speeding away.

The cambion chuckled. "I think he's happy to be rid of us," he said. "Maybe he thought you were going to slay him with a touch and steal his magical carpet."

Zasian shrugged. "I considered it," he said. "It was such a wondrous piece of magic," he added ruefully, watching the carpet and the genie grow tiny in the distance.

The pair turned and strolled toward the gate. The portal was massive, with a great set of brass doors barring passage. Within the large doors, a smaller pair was inset, and those stood open. A pair of efreet, bare-chested and red-skinned, flanked the smaller portal. They seemed completely disinterested in Vhok and Zasian.

When the two visitors reached the gate, the efreeti on the left gave them a sharp glance. "State your name and business!" he ordered.

"Kaanyr Vhok, Lord of the Scourged Legion, Ruler of Ammarindar and points beyond. I am just visiting. And my associate here…" he said, gesturing toward the priest.

"Zasian Menz, Seneschal of the Master's Hall in Sundabar in the service of Helm Dwarf-friend. Also visiting."

The efreeti eyed them for a moment. He brought a hand up and scratched his chin. "Very well," he said, as though reaching some monumental decision. "Ten pieces of gold apiece to enter."

Vhok coughed to hide his surprise. "Is that all?" he asked sarcastically. "A pittance, considering." He fetched a small garnet from the folds of his tunic and handed the efreeti the gem. "Will that cover us both?" he asked.

The genie studied the stone for a moment, then slipped it into a small brass box hanging from his belt. "Ought to do," he replied. Then he stepped aside, giving access to the door. "Welcome to the City of Brass," he said, and let the two visitors enter. "Enjoy your stay."

The passage through the gate was longer than Vhok expected. It was a narrow tunnel running through the massive doors, which appeared to the cambion to be made of solid brass. He could not imagine anything so heavy remaining upright.

On the far side of the passage, he was assaulted by a cacophony of sights, sounds, and smells. The first thing he noticed was blessed coolness. The city did not radiate endless heat like the rest of the plane. Vhok wondered what sort of magic would be required to accomplish such a feat. He didn't ultimately care, though. He welcomed the change.

A broad thoroughfare led from the larger gate, and like any city, it was lined with buildings. Businesses of every conceivable nature filled those shops, and the patrons who visited them spilled out into the wide street. Vendors hawked their wares from wagons and carts, bartering with customers in a constant din that made Vhok's ears roar. It all looked so familiar to the cambion, and yet everything was completely different.

The assortment of life dazzled the half-fiend. Never had he seen such a variety of folk. Humans mingled with demons, devils, and efreet everywhere. Salamanders, their serpentine torsos snaking out behind them, moved freely among the others. The cambion even spotted a fire giant gliding through the morass of citizens, window shopping.

Slaves, many of them azer, moved through the street, too. Some accompanied their masters, often led by chains attached to collars, while others traveled independently, wearing only heavy brass bracelets to denote their status.

None of the legion gave Vhok or Zasian a second glance.

The smells of sweat and exotic food wafted to the half-fiend. He spied a street vendor doling out skewers of meat to any with coin. Some of the flesh had been charred beyond recognition, and some of it still burned as he sold it. But the merchant had enough human customers that he offered more palatable fare, top.

Vhok's stomach rumbled.

"Hey, you two," a voice called. "You need a guide, yes?"

Vhok glanced over to a young man, a human, standing off to one side. He pointed and gestured to the two arrivals, nodding vigorously.

The cambion smirked. "You know your way around this maze?" he asked, filled with doubt. "You're more likely to lead us into some blind alley so your friends can try to strong-arm us out of a few coppers."

The young man looked wounded. "I would never presume to insult such powerful lords," he said earnestly. "I offer you comfortable travel to anywhere in the city," he said, producing a small bronze statue from his pocket.

Vhok peered closely at it and noted that it appeared to be a casting of a hippogriff. A horselike creature with the wings and head of a great eagle, the statue was posed so that the beast reared up on its hind legs. "How is that going to help us?" he asked, still suspicious.

In answer, the young man tossed the statue down and uttered some unintelligible word.

Immediately, the statue grew in size and bloomed to life. In the time required for Vhok and Zasian to step out of the way, the thing became an actual hippogriff, and a massive one.

Vhok saw that it sported a special saddle, along with a pair of wicker panniers hanging from either side. The hippogriff snorted once, then screeched loudly. It pawed the ground with talons rather than hooves.

"You see? I can get you anywhere you wish to go, and fast," the young man said, beaming.

Vhok looked at Zasian.

The priest shrugged. "Might as well," he said. "It will take us days to fight our way through the city otherwise."

Vhok considered the man's words and nodded. "All right," he said, turning to their would-be guide. "You get us to the Sultan's Palace without mishap, and I'll make it more than worth your while."

The boy's eyes widened. "The Charcoal Palace?" he said with a hint of awe. "Why do you wish to go there?"

"Why, to see it, of course," Vhok answered with a silly grin. "What visit to the City of Brass would be complete without seeing the fabled palace of the most powerful efreeti in the multiverse?"

The young man still seemed doubtful, but he nodded and climbed onto the back of the hippogriff. Settled in his saddle, he gestured for his two customers to board.

"You want to go to the palace right away?" Zasian asked quietly.

The cambion nodded. "Yes," he replied. "After our dealings with Hafiz the overseer, how do you rate our chances of success bargaining with the sultan?"

"I see your point," the priest said.

"Exactly. So I think we should consider other means of getting in."

The Banite gave the half-fiend an incredulous look. "You realize that you're plotting to break into the palace of the most powerful genie in the city, don't you? Perhaps the most powerful genie in the multiverse!"

Vhok patted Zasian on the shoulder and grinned. "We don't have to get back out, do we?" The priest rolled his eyes and shook his head. "So we only need to know where we're going, and stay ahead of the guards. We'll find an inn nearby after we've scouted a bit. We can rest tonight, cast an augury to make sure Aliisza is where she needs to be, and slip in tomorrow."

"As you wish," the priest said. He didn't sound at all convinced.

Vhok saw that the pannier had a hinged door in its side. He stepped closer to the conveyance and looked inside. Swinging the narrow door open, he stepped into the basket and latched the door. The rim of the pannier rose to just below his armpits.

Zasian walked around the hippogriff and boarded the opposite container. Once both travelers were safely in their baskets, the young man gave a sharp command to the hippogriff. The magical beast screeched and reared up slightly. The sudden shift threw Vhok off balance and nearly tilted him out of his seat within the basket.

"Hold on tight, Masters!" the boy cried. Then the hippogriff launched itself and its burden into the air, and they were off.

As smooth and delightful as the magical carpet ride had been, the journey within the pannier was equally unpleasant. The hippogriff's motion was sudden and jerky, and Vhok found it nearly impossible to maintain his balance. Their guide steered the beast haphazardly, shifting and climbing, rolling and diving incessantly. With each change in course, the cambion found himself crumpled in a heap at the bottom of his wicker basket. He finally managed to remain upright by bracing his knees to both sides and clinging to the rim with both hands.

Despite his discomfort, Vhok found the view of the great city to be splendid. The metropolis bustled with life and activity in every direction. Great thoroughfares zigged and zagged between massive palaces of marble, sandstone, and brass. Markets as large as some small communities back on Faerun spread out between the edifices. The half-fiend was sure that tens of thousands of citizens roamed the market stalls, exchanging coins for all manner of goods.

Canals of flame coursed throughout the city, creating a network of glowing avenues between the solid routes. Small boats plied those fiery paths, poled along by navigators working hard to deliver cargo and passengers to their destinations.

The whole city teemed with life and trade.

At last, the trio drew near the Charcoal Palace. The building was immense, rising like some magical many-spired basalt mountain out of the city. A latticework of walkways, plazas, and shiny, brassy domes seemed to defy gravity. A great fountain of purple fire plumed in front of the main gates, where a dozen well-armed and armored efreet stood guard.

"How close can you fly without raising their ire?" Vhok shouted to their guide. "I'd like to get a better look."

The young man raised an eyebrow in wary surprise, but he nodded and guided the hippogriff closer. The trio circled the palace twice, not quite flying within the perimeter of the walls. Vhok spotted a female efreeti standing upon a balcony. She appeared to be watching them through a long brass tube. Her robes were colorful and gaudy, and he supposed she might be some vizier or advisor to the sultan.

On the third pass around the palace, Vhok leaned out as far as he dared to gaze into the inner sanctum of the sultan. He sought a particular locale within the palace, a great open courtyard.

He spied it.

The courtyard lay at the base of a large tower. It formed a semicircle around the spire, and a single causeway spanned it, leading from the door of the tower to a middling defensive wall beyond. That was their destination.

Vhok had seen enough, but needed a view from ground level. He leaned forward to shout instructions to the boy to set the hippogriff down near the purple fountain, but the words died in his throat as a crackling blast of blinding white energy engulfed them.

The hippogriff screamed in agony and lurched sideways in the sky. Vhok felt the pannier tip sideways and he began to fall out. He grabbed frantically at anything and his fingers locked onto the rim of the basket, but he felt no resistance, no gravity pulling against him. He looked up and saw that the entire saddle and pannier had broken free of the hippogriff. Zasian huddled inside the other basket, but the guide and his mount drifted free.

Vhok spun himself upright and reached across the baskets. "Grab on!" he shouted to the priest.

Zasian pulled himself hand over hand along the ruined saddle and panniers until he caught hold of the cambion's hands.

With a death-grip on the Banite, Vhok summoned the innate power within himself to slow his descent. As the cambion felt the two of them ease into a hover, the saddle and pannier tumbled away. A heartbeat later, the boy and his mount zoomed by, also falling from the sky. Neither of them flailed as they fell.

The half-fiend struggled to keep himself and Zasian aloft. With the priest's weight, the cambion could not find the power to rise, but he felt certain that their landing would be slowed enough to avoid deadly injury.

Unless they were attacked again before reaching the ground.

Vhok whipped his head about, searching for the source of their misfortune. He spotted a figure above and behind him, riding upon a most unusual conveyance. The mount was a huge black fly that hummed and buzzed as it circled, coming closer to the pair of hovering companions. Vhok squinted to get a better look at their attacker.

Myshik grinned and steered his magical mount closer. The half-dragon raised his dwarven axe to strike at them as he passed.