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waiting to fill in the spaces with more allies' sigils. Eligor looked back at the crowd, from
bowed head to bowed head, and wondered if each of them bore the same thought: Will I
walk, once again, through the cities of the Above? Will I look again upon the Throne? He
suddenly remembered a moment long, long ago when another charismatic figure had
stood before him and a similar, disaffected crowd and entreated them to join him and take
up arms. Would this rebellion share the same outcome? Was Faraii, for all his bitterness,
right? Of one thing Eligor was certain: Sargatanas was correct; there were many
questions.
The greeting of each ambassador or rare lord took many long hours, with Sargatanas,
seated upon his throne, patiently according each his due respect. Andromalius and
Bifrons, already staunch allies, joined Eligor and a contingent of his Guard behind the
throne while Valefar stood at his lord's side, amiably making introductions, identifying
each demon's native land and highlighting the outstanding qualities of each. Eligor was,
to start, watchful and interested but found his concentration flagging after the first
hundred or so demons had passed; then only the most important of the new clients
received his full attention.
"Lord Malpas has, for these long eons, studied the art of siegecraft, my lord," Valefar
said, intruding on Eligor's thoughts. "He was instrumental in aiding Architect General
Mulciber when many of the palaces were first built including Prince Beelzebub and
Lucifer's empty fortress. He knows their strongpoints and their fundamental weaknesses.
Of course much has been added to them since then ... but still."
"Malpas, thanks to you for joining me," Sargatanas said. "Your knowledge and your forty
legions will, I am sure, prove invaluable."
Malpas bowed so low that his long, thick beak scraped the floor audibly.
An hour later Eligor saw an especially ornate Demon Major stand before them, his floor-
length robes alive with dozens of souls flattened and picked for their unflawed pelts, each
dyed, delicately stitched together, and highlighted with golden thread and embellished
with rolling, precious stone eyes. In all, Eligor thought, a masterpiece of foreign
craftsmanship.
Valefar, too, seemed taken with the figure, smiling and nodding openly.
"This, my lord, is the honored Lord Yen Wang of the distant Eastern Wards, who brings
with him the swift and powerful Legions of Behemoths. Even as we speak, the terrible
creatures are being stabled in some of the abandoned storehouses along the far shore of
the Acheron. Well, I might add, away from the city."
Sargatanas' eyebrows rose. "I have heard much about you and your legendary
Behemoths, Yen Wang, but have never set eyes upon them myself. I would like very
much to visit my new stables with you at my side. I am sure there is much for me to learn
about them. Thanks to you for bringing them so far."
Yen Wang's scarred face creased in an earnest attempt at a smile. "My pleasure, Lord," he
said in an oddly accented voice. "I am most proud of them and would be only too
honored to offer my insights. As well as," he added with a bow, "my generalship."
"I would have them both willingly," said Sargatanas with a nod.
Eventually, Eligor saw the crowd growing thinner. Dwindling like the fading light from
the oculus, those demons who had passed before his lord descended and exited the
chamber. What had started as a flood of dignitaries became a trickle until only a mere
handful awaited introduction. Off to either side of the throne a moundlike, glittering
collection of gifts lay arrayed, some items that Eligor recognized when he had seen their
bearers arriving. Life-size gold statues of demon generals from ages past stood next to
giant urns filled with the precious stones found in distant mountain mines. Beautifully
crafted spears and axes fashioned from brilliant minerals and metals by local Waste
artisans lay piled in neat arrangements atop fine rugs, tapestries, and carefully worked
Abyssal pelts. In all, it was a fabulous tribute, but Eligor knew that, apart from its
symbolic nature, it was of little value to Sargatanas.
Lord Furcas was the last to approach the throne, and far from being unhappy at his
position in the queue, he seemed expansive and even eager. As he stopped before
Sargatanas, Valefar, who seemed tired of court pretenses, relaxed and stepped forward to
clasp hands with the portly Demon Major.
"My lord," the Prime Minister said, "Lord Furcas of the high montane wards of Faragito
Coraxo has amiably agreed to wait to be presented last, because he has brought us a most
unique contribution that requires some demonstration. I had a chance to discuss this but
briefly with his lordship, and he and I feel certain that you will be intrigued by his
discoveries. Among his other qualities Lord Furcas is a Pyromancer Exalted. Lord
Furcas."
Furcas knelt heavily, bowed his head, and rose upon a signal from Sargatanas.
"Ages ago, my lords, I spent much time wandering the Salbrox Mountains of my home-
wards. To most, I am sure, it seemed that my solitary journeys were no more than the
meanderings of an eccentric demon." Furcas paused as his silver eyes looked inward at
the memories of his travels. "But I was actually prospecting, searching out the resources
that I needed to make my armies strong stronger than my neighbors'. For millennia I
found nothing but the most common minerals, and because of that I suffered the kinds of
defeats that gradually diminished my realm. And then one day I was sitting by a seething
mountain cleft and looked down to see a small Abyssal carrying a crystal that flickered
like solid fire in its armored mouth. I followed it and found an entire nest made of the
rocks. I wrested one away from the creature but dropped it immediately its heat was so
tremendous. So I caught and skinned the Abyssal and carried the mineral home in its
scaly skin. After many years I unlocked its stubborn secret, extracted its essential energy,
and with the addition of a few crafted glyphs I learned to control and shape the mineral. It
is solid fire, my lord."
Furcas raised his clawed hands, holding them apart and at Sargatanas' eye level. A tiny
mote of the glowing mineral danced upon Furcas' palm. With a glance toward Valefar he
murmured a few words, and almost immediately an orange, artery-thin line began to glow
between his bony palms. Thin, hairlike geysers of fire sprang forth from within the
demon until his entire dark body was alight with a shimmering corona of thin fire. He
then spread his hands farther apart and the straight, thickening line grew until it was twice
his arm's length. A tapered, pyramidal tip appeared at one end, sharp as a fang and white- [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]