gave his head a small shake. The cloak-hidden figure spoke loudly in its hollow voice, however. “I will send one of my own trusted hounds to see that there are no further mistakes made. Mortals are bumbling and untrustworthy, while daemonkin are quite the opposite.”
At that the wizard seemed annoyed. “May I point out to you. Lord of the Pox, that it was I-a mere mortal-who discovered the whole web, who set his spies to work, and magically traced the skein of power which enabled the destination of the babe’s sending to be found!”
“We admire your work, Sigildark.” The voice of the priest was so sardonic that even the hooded creature from the nether planes gave voice to a ghastly chuckle. “The merit of your efforts is well known to Great Nerull… What more could you want?”
Sigildark, steeped in evil as he was, knew that the deity just named was but one of the avatars of the nether emperor, having a form somewhat less repugnant to humans than that of Infestix, for instance. “He knows, or will know, Pol, because you or Poxpanus there will so inform him. Honor to the Image, dedication to Tharizdun.”
Colvetis Pol made a hasty sign. “Be it graven.”
The daemon-thing too made a gesture of formal obeisance. “Each serves and will be measured by his Master,” he intoned In a dead voice. “But now let us deal with what matters remain.”
The priest nodded. “We need information, lord. We are reacting as you instruct, but we will prove more useful Instruments If we are told of things.”
“That is so,” the wizard agreed. “If you will share with us. Lord of All Pox, we can serve you, Nerull, and great Tharizdun better!”
“My liege has given me liberty In this matter, so I shall inform you as you request,” the nether-thing replied. “But for the sudden change of heart, the vile little sprat would be destroyed ere now. His own kith and kin it was who gave him and his parents over into our hands. Their reversal came too late to save the sire of the babe, and the dam too we found and expunged. They had not gone far from where they had left their cub for safekeeping, and our agents were hot on the trail. It was a petty dweomercraefter named Wanno who sought to confound the writ of Hades. You know him, Sigildark?”
“Yes. I knew him from our Society.” The mage said no more, for if anything, Wanno had been perhaps a more potent spell-worker than Sigildark himself.
“Please go on, lord,” Colvetis Pol urged.
“The sudden withdrawal of support from the cousins of the infant enabled his sire to elude our clutches for but a short time. It is passing odd, though,” and here the rotting, hollow voice and the bearing of the thing seemed all too human, “that no augury, no divination, not even of the lowest magnitude, could pierce the curtain which hedged the three.” The shadowed opening of the cowl swung to face the two, and priest and mage pulled back just a little. Yet the daemon spoke in a low, conspiratorial tone, imparting knowledge as if to equals. “Had we not been so close, all would have escaped. Much of the contest will be played out on the material plane, and some different, unknown force has aided those who oppose us…”
“I have detected nothing of the sort,” Sigildark stated flatly.
“Do be still,” Colvetis Pol admonished the spell-worker. “I have seen some slight change in certain castings,” the priest of evil said to Poxpanus. “When your hound has devoured the infant, will the interference dissipate? Or will it not?”
The daemon studied Pol. If ever was a mortal bound for lichdom, this one was. Ambitious, powerful, skilled, and dedicated to the malign might of Hades. Unlike the upstart Sigildark, a paltry factor, Pol had served on the highest councils of Nerull for decades. Poxpanus knew him to be two centuries old.
Although the man’s outward appearance had changed little in the last several decades, the daemon could see into the inner creature, and it
At that the wizard seemed annoyed. “May I point out to you. Lord of the Pox, that it was I-a mere mortal-who discovered the whole web, who set his spies to work, and magically traced the skein of power which enabled the destination of the babe’s sending to be found!”
“We admire your work, Sigildark.” The voice of the priest was so sardonic that even the hooded creature from the nether planes gave voice to a ghastly chuckle. “The merit of your efforts is well known to Great Nerull… What more could you want?”
Sigildark, steeped in evil as he was, knew that the deity just named was but one of the avatars of the nether emperor, having a form somewhat less repugnant to humans than that of Infestix, for instance. “He knows, or will know, Pol, because you or Poxpanus there will so inform him. Honor to the Image, dedication to Tharizdun.”
Colvetis Pol made a hasty sign. “Be it graven.”
The daemon-thing too made a gesture of formal obeisance. “Each serves and will be measured by his Master,” he intoned In a dead voice. “But now let us deal with what matters remain.”
The priest nodded. “We need information, lord. We are reacting as you instruct, but we will prove more useful Instruments If we are told of things.”
“That is so,” the wizard agreed. “If you will share with us. Lord of All Pox, we can serve you, Nerull, and great Tharizdun better!”
“My liege has given me liberty In this matter, so I shall inform you as you request,” the nether-thing replied. “But for the sudden change of heart, the vile little sprat would be destroyed ere now. His own kith and kin it was who gave him and his parents over into our hands. Their reversal came too late to save the sire of the babe, and the dam too we found and expunged. They had not gone far from where they had left their cub for safekeeping, and our agents were hot on the trail. It was a petty dweomercraefter named Wanno who sought to confound the writ of Hades. You know him, Sigildark?”
“Yes. I knew him from our Society.” The mage said no more, for if anything, Wanno had been perhaps a more potent spell-worker than Sigildark himself.
“Please go on, lord,” Colvetis Pol urged.
“The sudden withdrawal of support from the cousins of the infant enabled his sire to elude our clutches for but a short time. It is passing odd, though,” and here the rotting, hollow voice and the bearing of the thing seemed all too human, “that no augury, no divination, not even of the lowest magnitude, could pierce the curtain which hedged the three.” The shadowed opening of the cowl swung to face the two, and priest and mage pulled back just a little. Yet the daemon spoke in a low, conspiratorial tone, imparting knowledge as if to equals. “Had we not been so close, all would have escaped. Much of the contest will be played out on the material plane, and some different, unknown force has aided those who oppose us…”
“I have detected nothing of the sort,” Sigildark stated flatly.
“Do be still,” Colvetis Pol admonished the spell-worker. “I have seen some slight change in certain castings,” the priest of evil said to Poxpanus. “When your hound has devoured the infant, will the interference dissipate? Or will it not?”
The daemon studied Pol. If ever was a mortal bound for lichdom, this one was. Ambitious, powerful, skilled, and dedicated to the malign might of Hades. Unlike the upstart Sigildark, a paltry factor, Pol had served on the highest councils of Nerull for decades. Poxpanus knew him to be two centuries old.
Although the man’s outward appearance had changed little in the last several decades, the daemon could see into the inner creature, and it
Similar Books
