Planescape Revisited

by Attalus

A tale of what would happen if the characters of Planescape: Torment continued the adventure after the death of the Nameless One.

As the dark passed from Sigil, called by some the City of Doors, a beam of light touched the eyes of a woman lying on a bed in the Brothel of Slaking Intellectual Lusts. At once, her eyelids fluttered open and she rose and began her morning toilette. She did not really sleep, not being human, but rather wandered back through her memories and relived them. For most of her past, the memories had been horrific but some of the more recent ones had been pleasant, and it was there that she chose to dwell.

Dressed and with a touch of makeup applied, she went out through the building, full of sleeping girls. The only one awake was the custodian, and she exchanged a pleasant word with him before leaving. She went at once to the main gate of the Mortuary and stood there for a while, lost in meditation. When she came back to the present, she shook her blonde hair slightly and went back to the Brothel.

Going back in, she was pleased to note the place all astir. Her girls, who were called "prostitutes" and whose attire they imitated, were entertaining the local real harlots at breakfast. She had started this custom both to expose her students to the experience of the streetwalkers and call girls of the district and to earn good will among these unfortunate women, who otherwise might have viewed her establishment as a rival. Actually, her girls were under a vow of physical chastity until they had finished her course of instruction in the nuances of non-carnal entertainment and were eligible for membership in the Society of Sensation, commonly called the Sensates, who believed that the Multiverse could only be understood through the senses.

One of the students stopped talking to a weary looking hooker to come over and greet her. She smiled, as this was one of her favorites, Nenny, called the Nine-Eyed for her powers of observation and devotion to gossip. Likewise a pretty blonde, she smiled artlessly at her teacher and spoke. "Mistress Grace, it is good to see you this morning. You look lovely, but then, you always do. Come and sit down with us and have some breakfast."

Grace, for this was one of her names, had to repress a raging surge of demonic lust and desire to seduce this young woman and dominate her. This was nothing new, she had been doing it for so long with every human that she met, and she automatically repressed it. Indeed, so practiced at it was she that she scarcely noticed it. She smiled pleasantly. "Yes, Nenny, I shall do that," she replied, and sat down to nibble on a piece of fruit. The portions served to each of her students were wildly disparate, from a little fruit for Nenny, who tended to be plump, to breads and cakes for Vivian, who was very slender. Grace designed, and rigidly enforced, the diets of each of her students, and the amount and kind of exercise that they took, to maintain them at the peak of physical desirability. She did not try to think much about why she did this, merely noting that the conversations and arguments that they engaged in with the patrons of the Brothel would be more interesting and complex if carried out with a very beautiful woman.

A servant came in and murmured in her ear, "Mistress Grace, there is a person here to see you."

She turned and smiled at the man. "Pedro, I am eating. Tell them that the Brothel will not be open until evening."

The man shook his head. "No, madam, she says that it is personal, and that you know her. She said to tell you that her name is Annah."

At that, Grace immediately arose and walked into the foyer. There, indeed, was the tiefling girl with whom she had shared so many adventures. She was surprised and concerned at her appearance, for she had been sleekly muscular, her fair skin alabaster in its complexion and her red hair glossy with health. Now, she was pale and had obviously lost a lot of weight. Her provocative leather outfit, once tight and bulging, hung slack on her. Her whole demeanor, once fiery and brash, was changed. Now she seemed withdrawn and depressed.

She went at once to her and took her into her arms. She had tried to do this, before, but the girl had often stiffened and drawn away, spitting insults. Now, she hugged her back, strongly. "Ah, succubus," she said in a muffled tone that was only a shade of her old fire, "ye are a forgiving sort, ye are. I hae wanted to coom here and talk to ye before, but mah pride forbade it. Boot, now, I din knae what else to do. I am dying, I think, wi'out him, and had to talk to some'un who knew him, too. Can I speak wi' ye, a little?"

"Certainly," Grace replied. "Come along to the private sitting room. There will be no one else there at this hour."

But she was proved wrong when they entered the comfortable little room, when a skull rose from a settee and gloated at both of them. "Well, Grace, look what you have brought me. My favorite thiefling, Annah. Come sit next to me, feebling, and whisper sweet nothings in my ear."

"Morte, this is not the time," Grace answered firmly. "Go pester Kensai-Serrit, or entertain those poor harlots, but we need privacy at this time."

The skull seemed to grin, but bobbed off out the door, saying, "Well, when you need company again, you know who to call." Grace firmly closed the door behind him, then seated herself next to the little tiefling.

"Well, Annah," she began, "tell me about what you have been up to after we left the Fortress of Regrets. You ran off so fast that I didn't even get a chance to say farewell. Where have you been staying, and why have you lost so much weight? You couldn't have been eating regularly."

"I dinnae," the redheaded girl said slowly. "I went back to the buried village, saw some of me old mates, there, but I cannae keep my mind on anything. Eating doesnae seem to matter, or anything else that I mind. I didnae lack for coin, for I had picked up much when we…" she seemed to flinch at the word and darted a glance at her interlocutor to see if she had noticed, but Grace's countenance kept its perfect composure, revealing nothing. "Were traveling together," she finished. "But, as I say, I have nae interest in anything, ay more. He is always in me thoughts, it's like nothing else can find room. I needed to talk to someone, and naeone would speak of him, or call him to mind. They said I would get over it." She gave a hollow laugh. "How can I? Except for old Stutter-Crutch, naeone has ever shown me a kindness or anything else but the back o' their fist. I've got to find him. I just know that he needs me, somewhere. I would hae gone anywhere with him, but he wouldnae hae me. Please help me, you are the only hope that I hae." She put her face in her hands but did not weep, only dry, hacking noises came out.

Grace let her mourn for a while as she soothingly rubbed the distraught girl's neck. When the shaking of Annah's shoulders stopped, she spoke soothingly: "Yes, we all knew that you were in love with him, and I was afraid that it would be hard for you. I tried to speak to you about it, but you never would. But, that does not matter, you are here and we shall have to do something for you. Come, let us go down and get you a place to lie down and I shall get someone to bring you a tray of some food to eat, and perhaps some wine. When you have rested, seek me out and we shall talk again.

Grace left the tiefling girl lying dry-eyed, staring at the ceiling. She sought out Morte. Searching the mostly empty halls that led to the "prostitute's" rooms, she heard voices coming from the room of Kimasxi Adder-Tongue. One of them was Morte's She heard Kimasxci say, "You're nothing but an osteoporotic piece of bone found floating in an abscess on the buttock of a Red Abashai. Faugh, you smell worse than a cornagon's midden, you do."

Morte retorted, "You call those things legs? I've seen better legs on a cuckoo clock."

Kimaszi seemed a bit stunned, but came back with, "I guess that it's lucky that I can't see your body. There would just be that more of you to hate."

Morte began his reply, "Nice haircut. Do you do it yourself or go down to the Hive and just call out, 'I need a cutter...'" but he stopped speaking when Grace walked in.

She shook her head gently to stop the conversation and asked the skull to come outside. She told him of the purpose of Annah's visit, and it was apparent that, had he lips, he would have whistled. "Hmmm," he said with uncharacteristic seriousness, "the poor kid must have had it worse for the Chief than I thought. Funny how he had that effect on women. It sure couldn't have been his looks." He gave Grace what was meant to be an enquiring look, but she received it with her usual cool composure. "What are you going to do? Because, I know that you are going to do something."

"Yes," she replied, "I have been thinking much, of late, of things that I should do. I want you to accompany me next door, to the Civic Festhall. There is a man there, an old friend, that I must see."

Morte at once bobbed up obediently and followed her to the imposing, gold-toned Festhall. Grace strode in confidently, the wings on her back rippling in the breeze of her passage. She cast about for a bit, finally locating the man she sought, a grizzled old fellow, scarred but still tough and firm in his step. His eyes lighted up when he saw her and he strode to meet her.

"Ghysis," she greeted him, "how are you today?"

"Pretty well, Mistress Grace," he replied readily, "but for the arthritis, thank you for asking. What brings your pretty face to the Festhall today?"

"I seek news" she said, repressing again the demonic lust, "what do your sources in the Blood War say has happened of note, lately?"

"News?" the man grimaced at the word. "What news can there be from that chaotic, formless war? Stalemate, eternal stalemate."

"Now, Ghysis," she returned firmly, then dropped her voice "you know what I mean. I happen to know that you retain contacts among both factions, and very useful they must be to you. Any notable doings? Big battles? Names being made?"

He pulled her aside, and Morte followed, to the man's visible annoyance. "Is this your mimir? I want no record made of this," he said in a hushed whisper.

Grace allowed a tiny smile to appear at the corners of her perfect lips. "No, Morte is not a mimir. More than that is not your business, I think. I know why you want this kept silent. The Taanari'i would stop dealing with you if they knew that you had business with the Baatezu, and vice versa. Do not worry, I shall not betray you. I have known this for a long time and waited until it was to my advantage to reveal it. But, I must know. Has anything of note occurred?"

Ghysis made a sour noise, but had to admit that he had been neatly trapped. "Yes," he continued sotto voice "it is as you say. I provide…services…and information to both sides. And they do tell me things. The last big battle was on the edge of the Grey Waste, in a place that lies close to Baator. A great group of Baatezu ambushed an army of Taanari'i and cut them down to the last man…and woman. There were many succubi there," a glint came into his eye, " I am told. My informant gloated to tell me of their lovely bodies trampled into the mire. Perhaps you lost friends there?"

The smile disappeared from Grace's face. "No, Ghysis, "she answered coldly, "you should know that I have no friends among my race. They scorn me for the years of slavery to the Baatezu that my mother sold me into. But, this is not your concern, or interest, I imagine. Was there no more that your…informant told you of this affair? Of who was the leader? I would imagine that there were many among the Baatzu that would like the credit for such a notable success."

The man shook his head. "No names, and that indeed is a puzzle. Many among the Baatezu would have loved to have placed the fallen banners at Lord Bel's feet. Or, whatever he is using for them, these days. They do tell of a giant human, a mercenary, I would guess, at the head of the force, totally unstoppable, not even woundable, for he healed as he fought. Would this be perhaps the one you are seeking news of?"

Grace was conscious of an unprecedented feeling around the area of her breast, and in a life composed of centuries of pitiless self-examination, this was shocking to her. For a minute, the Taanari'i in her wanted to sprint away, to be alone and examine this strangeness. But, she was a Sensate. She allowed herself to relax into the sensation. She discovered, to her surprise, that it was composed of both intense relief mixed with anxiety. Outwardly, she showed only a slight lowering of her eyelids, which was duly noted by her shrewd observer., who had much experience interpreting the countenances of demons.

"Ah, perhaps this would be the huge man that I saw you with several times in the recent past? Is he the friend of whom you have been seeking? How odd, a renegade succubus and former Baatezu slave inquiring for a Baatezu leader. Or, perhaps, he has become your enemy? You seek him for revenge?" Seeing her stony expression, he lapsed back into cautious indifference. "At any rate, that is all that I know. Should I seek you out if I have further news? For a price, of course."

She allowed herself a little smile once again. "Ghysis," she answered lightly, "I thought that you had decided to repent your former evil ways, so that you will not end up a Petitioner in the lowest pit. Should you not be doing it for the good of your soul?"

The man grinned, "Ah, Mistress, that would be what I would be doing it for. 'Twould be a good action, and you would be giving me money to help hold off the evil day that my soul is weighed. Rest assured, you can trust old Ghysis to do the right thing, for I do not want to wake up on the floor of some pit. Say Avernus."
"I shall trust you to the exact amount that you trust me," she said, and turned to go.

Morte grinned at the man. "Well, that wasn't much harder than pulling teeth. Let's just say that if I ever do catch you betraying her, you'll be sprawled on a red-hot floor very quickly. Death doesn't scare me, I'm dead already." He spun about and bobbed off after Grace.

When they got back to the brothel, the servant at once came up to Grace. "Mistress," he whispered urgently, "the tiefling girl. She's wandering the halls, asking for you. If I may say so, I think you should talk to her again. She seems…distraught."

Grace sighed a little. "All right, Pedro," she whispered back. "Where is she?"

"In Miss Kimasxi's room," was the answer. Grace's sigh turned into a muffled groan. She went down the hall to that sparsely furnished area. Shrill voices came through the door.

Annah's voice came first: "And why are ye hoors prancing about in yer skivvies, jest for some lad to be beguiled by yer wanton ways. Psht, if ye were in the Hive for a day, ye'd learn how harlots like ye fare. Stretched out dead and raped in some alley, doubtless.

"
"Who are you," returned Kimasxi, "barely dressed, to lecture us on propriety? That outfit, do you call that modest? Hah, I'll bet you were turning tricks between thefts, anything to keep your overdeveloped body and barely recognizable soul together."

Grace rushed into the room and put her hand over Annah's mouth, stifling her retort. "Annah, dear," she murmured, "didn't you say that there was something that you wanted to discuss with me? Let's go sit down in the parlour over there, so that we can talk about it."

"Yeah," contributed Morte, "you'll get nowhere with that one. She says that she's one fourth fiend, but I think that I can describe her better: 'ALL.' Though, with those legs, a goat might have crept in somewhere."

Kimasxi turned furiously to Morte. "You talk a lot about my legs, skull, but I think that you are just concerned with what's between them."

"Perish forbid," answered he, "a man would quickly have nothing at all down there. I heard a rumor that you keep a …"

"Morte, that's enough!" Grace cut in. "Kimasxi, save it for the patrons."

The tiefling's face quickly relaxed into a smirk. "Of course, Mistress," she answered readily, "I just have to keep in practice, is all."

Grace and Annah retreated to the sitting room where they first talked. Morte wisely took himself elsewhere. When they were seated, the blonde succubus hugged her little guest tightly. "Annah, you said that you wanted to talk to me. I am ready, and, when you are done, I have some news."

Annah had quickly reverted to her depressed, sullen look, but at that speech, she seemed to perk up a little. "Yea, I'd like that, I would. You knew him, too, and liked him well enough to go traipsing' off wi' him, to all manner o' places. We saw some things, didn't we? If I'd never met him, I'd likely have never left the Hive, but wi' him, I saw beautiful places, wonderful things, soft beds intea' of dirty boards, clear skies instea' of the endless murk o' the Hive. Pretty people, pretty clothes. Do ye remember when he bought me this?" She indicated the tunic that her love had insisted that she change into instead of the dirty leather thing she had worn when they had first met. "An', he never raised his han' to me, ne'er spoke a harsh word." Her eyes lowered, remembering. "'Cept when he hailed that doxy, right outside here. Offered to take her to bed, he did, and you and me standin' ri' there. What was he aboot, d'ye think? He threatened to cut off me wee tail, when I mowked."

Grace maintained her arm around her shoulder, and said with some amusement, "Why, Annah, he was teasing you. And me, perhaps. Didn't you know? He wanted to get a rise out of us, so he hailed that poor harlot. Slipped her some coin when you had turned to go, too. You should know him well enough to realize that, if he had wanted to, he would have. You, or I, or the whole lot of us were no match for him. But he was always gentle with you, except that one time."

"An, that's why I can't figure," cried Annah passionately, "he was the best person that I ever knew, especially, the best man. Why did he hafta go to the Abyss? He never did any unjust thing, while I knae him. Brusque and rude he could be, but ne'er harmed any un that din' offer him harm first. D'in I hear him tell that Ravel that nothing' could change the nature of a man? He was good clear through. He couldn't change that."

Grace smiled as the fiery girl glared into her eyes. "Well," she replied carefully, " he did say that, and believed it, too, for all I could tell. But, I am not so sure. I have made it my task, since we returned, to seek out information about his past. He certainly did some terrible things, but with us, he was gentle and caring. So, did he change, or did he realize that after all of his crimes, he would be sentenced to the Abyss and eternal service in the Blood War? I do know that when he had awakened without his memories, he was not consciously trying to make up for anything. He seemed good as if that were his nature, not the criminal that he had been earlier. So, if Ravel were to ask me that question today, I should give her back the name of that fortress: Regret. It is my belief that sincere regret indeed changed his nature, but not enough to redeem him in the eyes of them by whom those things are decided.

"So, what I have decided is, it had nothing to do with how good he had become. I think that, once, perhaps when he was young and foolish, he signed a contract with the Baatezu to fight in the Blood War after his death. Such a contract would be well-nigh impossible to get out of, and it is my guess that he didn't. That is why, when he was re-united with his mortality, he had to fulfill the contract. That is why he is there now, fighting for the Baatezu. That is my news."

Annah had listened to all of this with growing horror. "But," she said, "what ye say means tha' he doesnae deserve to be there. That he is just fulfilling some old contract that some demon tricked him intae signin', mebbe centuries ago. Who would a contract like that be wi'? Can we find out? We micht buy his freedom. Oh, canna ye tell me?"

One corner of Grace's mouth went down. "It would certainly not be easy." she replied. "There is no central office for such a contract to be registered."

"Why nae?" she cried passionately. "Didnae I overhear you telling' him once that the Baatezu are the most organized creatures in the Planes? Didnae the man at the Festhall tell us tha' they spend more time planning a skirmish than a human general would spend plannin' a campaign? Sure, they'd put 'em somewheres so's they could find 'em if they needed."

Grace looked at the little tiefling with new respect. She had had no idea that she had been paying attention that day, long ago, when they had listened, at the man who had no name's insistence, to Ghysis' public lecture at the Feshall. In fact, she seemed to recall the girl's being restless and bored. No, she corrected herself, that had been Morte. "Well," she answered finally, "I know where we could go and find out. But, Annah, please do not be rude to him, for he is a little afraid of you."

As she followed Grace into the next room, Annah could be heard muttering, "Mustnae be much, if he's afraid o' the likes o' me." She stopped, however, when she saw the machine standing in the center of the room. She remembered him quite well. It was the rogue modron, Nordom.

Nordom immediately turned to Grace and chattered, "Greetings, Fall-from-Grace, I trust that your morning is proceeding satisfactorily?" Before the succubus could reply, he pivoted and focused on Annah, and went on, "I see that you are accompanied by a tiefling, which by preliminary examination is known to me as Annah."

"Checking: hostility level both in general and towards Nordom, as indicated by tail motion. Results: Nil, give or take 5. Greetings, Annah." He turned back to Grace, with an expression that Annah could only describe as 'adoring.' "How may Nordom assist you, Fall-from-Grace?"

Grace bent her lips into a gracious smile. "Nordom, do you know if the Baatezu have a place, a central location, if you will, for their contracts? Especially those in which mortals give up their souls to enlist in the Blood War?"

Nordom seemed to vibrate slightly as he turned his attention inward. In a minute or so, he focused on Grace and spoke again. "The contracts of which you speak are located in the set of buildings in Baator, collectively described as "The Outer Temple," in a machine, there. Would you like for me to access it for you?"

She nodded her blonde head in reply. "Certainly," she said

.
"Accessing," replied the modron, closing his saucer-like eyes.. A few minutes later, he opened them again, and simply said, "Access denied. Reaccessing, using a random number generator." A few minutes later, he opened his eyes again. "Access denied, and 6,296 viruses and worms deflected, as well as an e-mail titled, '17Girl, I'm in Ure Town,' using Nordom Anti-Virus Protection, patent pending. Reaccessing, using random generator of numbers, letters, ideographs, pictographs, and hieroglyphics." Several minutes more went by, and the eyes reopened, this time with an expression of undeniable satisfaction. "After deflecting 42,456,483,295 viruses, worms, and trap e-mails, access granted. Welcome, High Judge Advocate Screwtape."

Grace did smile at that. "So, Nordom, you have convinced the machine that we are High Judge Advocate Screwtape? A very convincing impersonation you must have done."
The little modron buzzed with pleasure, and Annah, who had been watching in fascinated incomprehension, could have sworn that he had blushed. "No, indeed, Fall-from-Grace" he replied," no acting , strictly speaking, and I know that you always want me to speak strictly, was necessary. I merely was able to duplicate the High Judge Advocate's personal code. What would you like for me to do, now? There are 4,837,375,087,954 contracts in this file. Do you want to go through them alphabetically or by date?"

Holding her temples as if the number made her head ache, Grace responded, eventually, "Nordom, that would take us forever. Cannot you just get us the contracts that were fulfilled, say , within the last year?"

"Affirmative," the machine answered, " there are 364,876 contracts that were fulfilled this year. Would that do?"

"No, Nordom," she protested, "that is still far too many. How about the ones that are listed on the day that our nameless friend…left us? How many are there on that date?"
"2,593," he replied readily. This date was well known to him. "That must have been a good day for the Baatezu. It is far above average."

Grace had an inspiration. "Which one of those had been running the longest?"
After a few seconds, Nordom said, "This one is by far the oldest, between the now Archdemon Samael and one Adahn, though it states in the preamble that the demon, only a Senior Tempter at the time, regarded the name to be a false one. It requires that Adahn, in return for power and knowledge unspecified but well known to the signee, to fight in the Blood War on the side of the forces of Lord Bel for eternity upon his death, or until certain requirements, also unspecified, were met." Annah buried her face in her hands once more.

Grace looked thoughtful. "That is very unusual." she stated finally. " Baatezu contracts are usually much more precise in their terms, and they are usually fully stated in the body of the contract itself. Adahn! He told me once that he was often tempted to use that name, but something warned him not to, that it was better to be nameless. So that was it. His contract was under that name."

Annah slowly raised her face from her hands. No tears, still, Grace marveled. Tough girl. "Yah, Adahn," she said in a tight voice, "He tol' me that, too. I … thou' it was pretty. I even thou' … that …Adahn and Annah wou' sound gud together." This time, a single tear did creep down the pale cheek. She angrily dashed it away.

Grace tactfully pretended not to see any of this, concentrating on Nordom. She did not want anything to disrupt the fragile amity that she seemed to have reached with the mercurial redhead. "So, it is come down to this," she said in a low voice. "Baatezu contracts."

Morte's voice sounded behind her ear. "Yeah. Like anyone has ever gotten out of one of those. Face it, thiefling, he's gone, but there's others. Like me."

Rounding on him, Annah spat, "Ha, as if the likes of ye were worth one wee bit o' him. Dead he is, but so are ye, shy a body, too. I've tol' ye before, skull, that I'll end up mountin' ye on a pike. Now, shut up yer bone-box, Miss Succubus is plottin' how to free him, mebbe." She turned back to Grace, and with an obvious effort, calmed herself. "So, Mistress, what are we to do? We canna just file a suit in the law-courts."

Turning her cameo-like face to him, Grace stated calmly, "Morte, you forget to whom it is that you speak. I have myself gotten a Baatezu contract rendered null and void, releasing me from slavery. But, that was a special case, a torturer growing overly fond of his victim, as seldom happens, especially among the Baatezu. What I am considering is setting a thief to catch a thief. Remember, we have a priceless asset, a highly able Baatezu attorney that would not immediately fly at me, or you either, Annah. Our old acquaintance, the former Advocate Infernus, Fhjull Forktongue."

Annah seemed to brighten, but Morte objected. "But he's off in the Outlands. How are we supposed to get back there? Can't we just stay in Sigil? I like it here. The scenery is so good." Here he eyed Grace and Annah lasciviously.

Cutting off Annah's explosion, Grace interjected, "Yes, Morte, I think that is something that we should do. We all owe him for his help. He rescued you, didn't he? From the Pillar of Skulls?"

Morte looked as embarrassed as he could, which wasn't much. "Hey, how did you find out about that? That was supposed to have been between him and me. And, anyway, how are we going to get there?"

"As for how I knew," Grace answered primly, "he told me so, himself. We talked much about our little company. He seemed to value my opinions. As to how we get there, simple." She reached into her girdle and drew out a small golden key, then rose lithely and went across the room to a small cabinet. She drew out an intricate device of hammered metal and a small, delicate handkerchief stained at one corner with dried blood. "This is the portal that he used to get into Ravel's Maze, and the key to it. From there, we can reach Curst and the portal to Fhjull's little hideout. Prepare yourselves, friends, we are off on another journey."

As they gathered together supplies and equipment, a lone armored figure strode though the chaos of the battle mentioned before. By now, the corpses were rotten and the stench had drawn carrion-eaters from all the surrounding area. The spirit in armor did not care. He was looking for a faint trail, nosing about the corpses and poking at ruined equipment. It might have been noticed, if one of the scavengers that were the only witnesses had cared, that it was only Baatezu items that he checked. Just one clue, he asked whatever deity might be looking, so that the cause of Justice might be served.

A few days later found the four in Fall-from-Grace's sitting room. It might be thought an odd place to begin a hazardous journey, but then, it was an odd journey. Grace had doffed her silk gown for a magical garment that helped heal wounds, but Annah kept to her special tunic that the man with no name had given her. It had cunningly placed tiny plates in pockets in the fabric to keep enemies' blades from her. Indeed, she never wore anything else, and had only allowed Grace to clean it after some pointed comments from Kimasxi Adder-Tongue. Grace had seized the opportunity to have her bathe, which indeed produced an improvement, no matter how much she grumbled about it. In fact, she was secretly delighted in her experience in the Brothel's lavish bathroom. Morte, of course, had no body to dress, and Nordom's form was pretty much what he wanted it to be. They all stood together as Grace activated the portal. They immediately found themselves in the wild green forest of Ravel's Maze.

"Wow, it worked" said Morte after a few seconds of tense looking about. "Grace, where did you get that portal?"

"Our nameless friend dropped it," she replied, "along with all of his possessions, when he … left us at the Fortress of Regrets. You remember, that great club of his just clanked upon the ground. I looked around to comfort Annah, for I knew that she would be upset, but she just ran away. I just had time to look through his things, before it all melted away and deposited us all on the pavement in front of the Mortuary. I also found his journal, though I can't make head nor tail of it. There was no trace of that strange bronze sphere that he used to study so hard, so I assume that he used it. Come along, let us go. As I recall, the portal into Curst is to the northwest."

There was no trace of the hostile creatures that they had encountered on their last visits, but the brambles and filtered green light were strange enough. Grace found herself walking beside Annah, somewhat to her surprise.

That this was no accident was shown when the tiefling girl turned to her shyly and said, in a low mumble, "I heered ye say that he talked to ye oft abaht our group. Had he owt to say abaht me?"

Grace smiled reminiscently. "Yes he did, Annah," she replied softly, so that Nordom and Morte would not overhear, "but he said those things to me in confidence."

"But he's deid now," Annah replied passionately, "Why cannae you tell me? Was it bad? Did he really hate me? Ach, I cannae stand this"

"Now, now," Grace said coolly, "I did not mean to upset you, only…well, yes, I shall tell you. As you say, he's dead now, by his desire, and this cannot hurt him. Yes, he talked to me about you. He told me that he was afraid that he was falling in love with you, but was afraid of doing anything about it. He was afraid that you might be hurt."

Annah goggled at her. "He…was…afraid…of HURTING me?" she finally got out, "By telling me tha' he LOVED me? Oh, the great coward. We could had a wee time, any road. An' now, it's too late."

Grace put her arm around the girl's rigid shoulders. Somewhat to her surprise, she did not shake herself free. She seemed lost in memory, until a trailing bramble caught her across the face, ending her reverie. She spat curses, and Morte turned around quizzically.

"Careful, fiebling," he cackled, "you're supposed to be our eyes and ears, remember?"
She bridled at once, "I'm telling' ye, skull," she rapped out, "to leave me alone. Besides, ye have eyes enough for us all, not that they're not on me tail all o' the time. Try looking' at something outside me and the Mistress, here."

"I'm into fauna, not flora," Morte shot back, taking a distasteful look at a large tree that had suddenly arisen in front of them. Nordom, who had been listening to the byplay, caromed into the trunk, and the tree suddenly came to life with a roar, slapping Nordom with a huge limb, denting his side and collapsing him into a heap. The others immediately attacked the tree, Morte taking huge chunks out of it and Annah slashing it viciously with her punch daggers. It quickly went down.

Grace rushed to Nordom's side, to find the little modron arising shakily to put a few bolts into the tree as it fell. She cast a healing spell on him, but he still looked unsteady, so she decided that they should rest for a spell. As they lolled about, burning scraps from the tree, Annah came up to her again. "I thank ye," she said hesitantly, "for telling me that, though it flayed me. Why do ye think that he would not tell me? Did he think so little of me that he could not trust me?"

Grace smiled at her, feeling her rage and answering it with pity, "No, dear, I think that he was actually afraid of what might happen to you. Did he never tell you of Dionarra?" At her negative shake of the head she went on, "She loved him, too, and he betrayed her somehow. He never actually told me of it, but it made him distrustful of his relations with the ones that he cared about. He really, really didn't want anything bad to happen to you."

Annah looked puzzled. "But, if he din', why di' he take me with him to all of those scary places? Wouldn't I be safer back in Sigil? Not that I would ha' stayed. I woulda followed him anywhere, but he finally left me."

"Give him credit, dear," Grace replied gently, "he knew that and he also felt like that you were safer with him, I think. Don't forget, he loved you, too, and didn't want to part with you. That he did was none of his doing."

"Oh," Annah cried, and once again buried her face in her hands. It was not for long, though, and she raised her head and focused on Grace again. A spark came into her eyes. "An' ye, what about ye? I well know why I followed him, but what was the likes of ye, owner of the Brothel of Slaking Intellectual Lusts," she said it in a mincing, mocking tone, "why did ye come along?" She fixed her in a furious glare, and Grace felt that this was the question that she had meant to ask all along.

"Well," Grace began carefully, "it all started out as a lark, really. I was a bit bored and I felt that some new experience would do me good. Call it the Sensate in me" She shot a quick look at Annah. Her look of fury was unchanged. She went on. "But, as you have surmised, it soon became more than that. I felt at first that he was smart and had a lot of really strange experiences, so he and I began to talk, in the evenings, before we retired. We spoke of many things. He was particularly interested in how I was freed from my slavery to the Baatezu. I think that he just liked to talk to someone whose experiences were so different than his."

Annah's expression was unchanged, but she grunted. "Tha' wouldn't be hard. No one else has ever had the same experience that he had. But, succubus, ye aren't telling me everthin'. You weren't just a friend to him, I saw ye twa snoggin', once."
Rather rocked by this, Grace said quickly, "But, Annah, that only happened one time. How did you know? You weren't around."

Her lips curled up at the corners. "Ye think ye are so wise, dinna ye? You should have known that I can hide, really well. I was wroth with ye twa, allas wi' yer heads together, whisperin', so I sneaked up on ye, I did, an' I saw him kiss ye. Wha' was that, if he dinna love ye?"

"It's hard to explain," Grace replied slowly, remembering it. Once, when they had finished a long talk, he had noticed something in her face, she still could not decide what.

"So," the big man had said shrewdly, "if Ravel says that you are in constant torment through trying to go against your nature, how does it hurt you? All of the time, or just occasionally?" She had tried to avoid him, as it was not a subject that she liked to discuss, but he went on, "Let me see, what nature would you be trying to change? You are a succubus, so your role in life would be to constantly seduce humans to the service of your masters, in this case the Baatezu, correct?" She had unwillingly nodded, so he continued. "That must have disgusted you, since you have told me that they inflicted many tortures upon you, both brutal and subtle. A succubus' lust must be unlike a human's. You would want to lure your victims into you, stripping them of their souls through their lust for your body. Is that the nature that you are trying to overcome, that causes you such pain?" This time she did not answer, but that had been a worse reply than any. "And, since we are here, talking intimately, me being human, you must be feeling it especially, now, correct?"

For the first time in many years, Grace had felt her iron control slip. "Yes," she had hissed intently, "yes, I feel it now. But I shall not harm you, though my whole being wants to."

"Poor Grace," he had said soothingly, "I am not afraid. Kiss me, now."

Pulled along helplessly by the tide of her emotions, she had kissed him then, hard, and her succubus nature reached out for his immortal soul, and found… nothing. There was something there, but it had eluded her clutching claws, and slipped away into a dark place where she could not get to it. After a few minutes, or an age, she had pulled away. Strangely, she felt not frustration but relief, great flooding gusts of it. Her heart felt light for the first time that she could remember. "Thank you," she had said simply. He had grinned at her, patted her on the shoulder, and had gone off to bed. To this day, she did not know what happened. The lusts still came, but they were much easier to bear, and for that, she would be forever grateful.

She returned to the present. Annah was still staring into her cornflower blue eyes. "Annah, dear, I know that must have been distressing for you to have seen that, but please believe me, there was nothing of lust in that kiss, at least on his part. He was helping me face a part of myself that I feared greatly and he showed me that it was manageable. That is all. As far as I know, he loved only you."

The tiefling girl's expression softened. "An' did he, now? He had sommat to show ye of love that ye had never seen, since he felt sorry fer ye? Weel, that was him, an' I canna alter it, nor want to, either. But, come, let us be comrades again. I knae weel that I cannae do it me oneself. But, I'm glad that you think that o' him. So, let us be goin' on. I cannae sleep in this awful' place."

They continued on, and found that the portal had really been in the northeast, entailing a much longer trek and many more bramble scratches, hard to avoid in the low, green light and the shadows of the huge trees, looming menacingly over them the whole time. Finally, they reached the portal that took them to the dry, sandy reaches of the outskirts of the town of Curst.

The evening lights were dying and they sought the Whistling Gallows Inn. Barse was still the proprietor, but there were many fewer customers than there had been on there preceding visit. Well, considering the chaos that had overtaken the town, that was perhaps no real surprise. "Mistress Grace," he greeted her gladly, "never thought like to lay my eyes on your pretty face again. And your friends with you, I see. What's become of that big man that was with you the last time? My daughter would be sure to want to see him, seeing how much she owes him and all."

"He is dead, Barse," replied Grace quietly, as Annah glared at him. "We would be grateful for a quiet bed in which to pass the night. Please do not ask any more, it will distress us."

The innkeeper clucked his tongue. "Dead, eh?" he said sympathetically "Well, a many of my friends have been put in the Dead Book, but a loss he certainly is. They say that he, and you all, saved this town, and we never even got to thank him for it. Not to worry, I'll not say another word to cause you hurt."

"A loss he certainly was," Grace replied evenly, "and not just to us. I will speak to you again in the morning." They then retired gratefully to their rooms.

The next morning, Grace attempted to pay their check, and the man at first refused. Seeing the poor attendance at the bar, Grace surmised a financial pinch, and insisted. Barse hungrily pocketed the coins. "Barse," she inquired, do you remember that passage to the prison that you used to have? Is it still open?"
The innkeeper regretfully shook his head. "No, ma'am," he said regretfully, "when the bad time was upon us, I had to bar it off. Too many demons getting up here. No offence taken, I hope."

"None, indeed," Grace answered sweetly. "But, is the same man still running the town dump?"

The innkeeper brightened at being able to offer some good news. "Yes, indeedy, "he replied quickly. "He was good enough to heal a couple of wounds that I had gotten, defending the inn. Yes, you'll find him just about where you left him, but with more in the dump, I fear. There was much destruction."

"As I well remember," Grace said smoothly. "Thank you for your kind hospitality."

As they went out, Annah swore. "Now, hoo are we going to get to tha' portal? Fly?"

Grace smiled at her serenely. "Never mind. The dump keeper has a secret passage into the underground. From there, we can easily make it to the prison."
Old Kyse, the dump caretaker, was out piling refuse into some intricate system. Grace went directly up to him. "Hello, Kyse," she said with a winning smile, "how are you doing? Do you remember us?"

The old man brightened at the sight of her. "Indeed I do. You were one of the ones that saved my life. I still think of you every day, and remember you in my prayers. Is there something that I can do for you?"

"Yes, you can," Grace explained, "We badly need to get back into the underground. Is it still very bad, down there?"

He laughed heartily, lines gathering around his eyes. "Bad, but not as bad as before you and your friends got after them. I never saw it so quiet as a few days after you went through there. The prison's practically empty, too."
Grace frowned a little. "How did you find that out, Kyse? You were not the one that let us go down."

The old man tapped his forehead. "There's not much goes on in Curst that Kyse doesn't hear of it. You are good folk. Yes, I will let you down by my way. I'm sure that the monsters have more reason to be afraid than you. Good luck!" he said as he blessed them.

They entered the Underground, just a dark, damp labyrinth of tunnels smelling of nitre. They hadn't gone too far when a huge form lurched in front of them a red abashai, by the look of it. It lunged for Fall-from-Grace and grabbed her by the shoulders, its gaping maw reaching for her face. She brought up both of her hands locked together and slammed the beast under its chin, forcing its mouth shut. Annah, Morte, and Nordom attacked it at once, two bolts from Nordom hitting it in the head, blinding one eye. Annah, as usual, went viciously low with her daggers, and Morte grabbed one arm with his teeth, nearly severing it and forcing it to let Grace go. As she staggered back, Nordom put a bolt in its heart, and it collapsed, dead.

"I guess immortality doesn't look so good, now, does it Baatezu-boy?" Morte crowed.
They moved on, more cautiously now. Soon they came to the old prison. Annah spied on the guards, and came back to report that they were all gathered to the west, at the gates, and were apparently eating a meal. They softly walked to the portal without challenged, and quickly were deposited at the huge skeleton that the disgraced Advocate Infernus made his home.

They entered the door, and heard him pottering around, with his alembic, by the sound of it. Morte breezily bobbed over towards the sound and surprised the demon as he worked. "Aah," Fhjull cried, more in surprise than fright. "Sss, skull, you nearly made me drop my new potion, you did. Feh, I smell Taanari'i stench. Did you return with the succubus, just to torment me more? One more item of pain on the count of my worthless days? Feh, come on in, how could it get worse?"

Grace rounded the corner and saw the Advocate, a Ba'atezu ancient with age and evil. His wrinkled skin fell across his face, only one battered wing attached to his back, but a bright, glittering eye was in that malevolent face. Good, she thought. "I greet you again, Advocate Infernus Forktongue," she said with complete composure.

He rounded on her, "Yes, we meet again, inconathur,' he hissed, his eyes narrowing to slits. "I call you to mind, now. I care not what name you have taken among these mortals, but I remember when you were thrall to old Pickscab. He called you Morsel, and I recall several grand entertainments that he gave, the highlight of which was him casting spells on you. Ha, it is good to remember how you writhed and screamed, and how he forced you to do things while you were screaming. A pretty sight to see."

Grace kept her countenance serene. "Yes, some aspects of my life have been less than agreeable," she replied coolly. "I am sure that you recall your disgrace and mutilation with no pleasure, either, but I have not come to speak to you of this. We seek advice about legal matters among the Baatezu, and I suppose that your geas will cause you to help us."

"Advice?" he bellowed, "You want me to advise you about my beloved legal system? You pick strange ways of tormenting me. Yes, I must help. What questions do you have? Feh, here I am looking forward to answering questions from a Taanari'i that I used to enjoy being tortured. What a fate I have descended to."

Calling Nordom forward, she replied, "Advocate Infernus, I would ask you to go over this contract, since fulfilled, and tell us your opinions of it. Your honest opinion," she added, fixing him in her clear, blue eye. Nordom slid a panel aside, revealing a slot, which promptly spat forth a paper. Fhjull took it, and spent some time in studying it, muttering to himself, and twice going to a cabinet, fishing forth old tomes that one would have thought were too big for the small space.

At length, he answered. "A contract by the atrocious Toadpipe? Feh, I could have written a better one when I was a Tempter, Fifth Class. No proper identification of the signee? An escape clause, and that not fully documented? He must have lusted for this one's soul, to have conceded so much. But, the things that are left out must be recorded somewhere, else it would not be valid." He brooded for a bit, then brightened. "I know. He has cast a further spell on the contract, to leave these things illegible. I must see the original. Can you bring it to me?"

Grace inclined her head slightly. "Doubtless, it has occurred to you, already, Advocate Infernus, that we cannot directly enter the Hall of Records. Even were I to pose as a Ba'atezu slave, a thing which I would find distasteful, they would not let me in without my master, let alone these others. Have you no contact that we can use?"

He looked at her shrewdly. "Feh. Me? A contact among my people? He would have already betrayed me to Lord Bel, rot him. No, if I were to serve you in this matter, I would have to go myself. I have here," he rummaged in a trunk, "a spell that would disguise me as Counselor Smadgash. An emergency escape. It would be fraught with peril, for if the real Smadgash sees me, the illusion would be blown away, but I shall do it, my geas tells me that I must, but I confess to a certain satisfaction to doing an ill turn to Smadgash, who was instrumental in my fall. But you, succubus, you will have to pose as my slave, a thing which you will hate and I enjoy, for the torment it puts you through. Are you willing to do this, for the one that I guess that you care about? Or is it some Taanari'i plot? No matter, I must do it."

They decided to rest before they attempted the Hall of Records. Annah came over to Grace as they settled down, and said, "Ach, I never thought I'd hear meself say this, mistress, but when old Fhjall was tellin' what happened to ye, I felt sorry fer ye, I did. I canna understand how, if they tormented ye so, ye can be so kindly. Dinnae they harm ye any, when they were aboot their games?"

Grace fixed her in her luminous glance. "Well, of course they damaged me. Scars inflicted by tortures like that never heal."

Annah struggled with that for awhile, and finally came out with, "But wha' is damaged in ye? Ye seem fine ta me. Bein' pretty and nice and all. So wise that even he asked your advice. What did they scar ye in?"

Grace's answer was so low that she scarcely heard it. "Why, my demon nature, of course. They tried to kill the Taanari'i in me, and ended up killing my demon nature. I have little or none left. I love not chaos, because Pickscab intentionally destroyed my love with his tortures. I also came to hate evil at the same time. There was no place left on the Lower Planes for me then, so that is why I named myself Fall-from-Grace and came to Sigil. The prize that I won when I won the improvisation contest, along with my freedom enabled me to but the building that the Brothel is in. From then on, money was never a problem. But now, even though the knowledge of my lost heritage haunts me every day, I would not have it back. Once, I though I did, some ways, but that is what our friend taught me. That my experience made me unique and even better, like a clumsy surgeon that accidentally cured a disease that he didn't know was present. That was a wonderful favor, and why I am seeking to return it."

Early the next morning, they left for Baator through a portal. Fhjull was unrecognizable as a tall, sinister black pit fiend with a whip of snakes. Grace was dressed as always, though the ex-Advocate Infernus had attempted to make her appear naked, as better suiting the look of an enslaved succubus. She had sweetly refused, saying that a slave had to wear what her master said, and that no one would think twice. Fhjull had snarlingly agreed.

They approached the dreary, towering building with some trepidation, but the Abashai guard let them in without question. A pit fiend that powerful would not brook any insolence, and the creature was determined not to fall afoul of that whip. He boredly noted the tanari'i slave walking closely by her master, the supposed mirmir, and the tiefling minion. His only curiosity was for the modron, but decided to mind his own business.

Once within, Fhjull lead them to a room full of huge filing cabinets. He had Nordom plug into the information circuit and, using Toadpipe's code, scanned the system to locate the exact document sought. Meanwhile Annah lurked in the shadows outside the office, standing guard. Many ba'atezu came and went, but when one came in the front door, she froze. It was the pit fiend that Fhjull was impersonating, right down to the whip! She tensed, expecting the alarm to be sounded, but the bored guard didn't make the connection - he was not particularly intelligent, she thought - and raced back to tell the others.

"He must not come in this room," Fhjull hissed. "If he does, all of our plans, and us, will be up in smoke." He looked at the friends. "Can you prevent him, without raising a fuss?"
Annah smirked. "If the skull and the box come with me and do as I say," she replied flatly, " then there will be no mowk, I can promise ye."

"Then go, imbecile," Fhjull growled. "He may be coming here. Perhaps not, but we cannot risk it." They quickly slid out the door.

Annah set up her ambush in the dark hall leading to the room. She hid in the shadows by the door, and placed Morte and Nordom behind a pillar opposite. Sure enough, the pit fiend entered, striding toward the room, and she pounced.

Both of her daggers slammed fully into the surprised demon's back, right over the kidneys. He screamed and turned on her, raking her with the whip, but she continued slashing his belly and privates with her daggers. By then, Morte and Nordom had joined the fray. Nordom put his bolts into the pit fiend's chest, collapsing a lung, and he staggered. Morte sailed up and fastened on his throat, preventing him from crying out, if the pain in his lung wouldn't have prevented it, anyway. He bit out the flesh from the whole front of the neckbone, covering everyone with demon ichor. The creature collapsed and was dead. They dragged his body into the room with Fhjull and Grace, closing the door behind them.

Grace listened carefully at the door. There was no hubbub, and if anyone had heard the fiend's only scream, they were too used to screams to pay much attention. They had heard several, already. Fhjull gloated over the corpse. "Well, Counselor," he said with a leer, "I guess that you have argued your last case. Hmm, what an opportunity for me. I can now assume his identity, return to the life that I lust for..."

"And the geas will still be in effect, Advocate Infernus," Grace cut in firmly. "Lose not sight of that as you plot to betray us. You are obligated to give us help when we ask, so I do: resume your search for the document, if you please."

With a snarl, Fhjull returned to his reseaches, pausing only to cast a spell to remove his rival's body and ichor from the hall and room. Standard assassination drill, thought Morte, admiringly.

Finally, Fhjull was successful. "Here it is," he cried triumphantly, "and, as I surmised, protected by an illegibility spell. Easy to reverse if you know how." He cast the spell and resumed reading eagerly. Then, to the astonishment of them all, he burst out laughing. "What a colossal joke," he cried, when he caught his breath. "All the plains will be laughing with me - and at Toadpipe. He will never live it down. Lord Bel, curse him, will fling it in his face for eons. He will be as disgraced as I, for the Ba'atezu do not forgive stupidity."

"Well, tell us" Grace said impatiently, "What is it? What is the joke?"

At that same moment on a different plane, the armored spirit seemed to have found what it was looking for. As he turned over a dead succubus' body, he saw a medallion in her hand, evidently torn from her opponent's neck. After studying it for a while, he determined it to be the unit designation of The Regiment of the Owl. He felt a blaze of triumph. He knew where that regiment was quartered. He set out grimly to that plane.

The look of triumph on Fhjull's face was transcendent. "Ha, ha," he crowed, "I shall not tell. How is that? I judge that it would not be in your best interests. The geas itself is puzzled, it is trying to make me do two things at once. There is only one outcome for this, it must be solved by the being who placed it upon me, and he will not come here. Trias, take us elsewhere, for we must talk." They all vanished in a blinding flash.

When they got their bearings again, the surroundings could not be more different. They stood on a verdant hillside, a chuckling stream to their left. Annah felt a sudden urge to bathe her feet in that water, and was puzzled, having never wanted to do that in her life. The sky was blue with occasional fluffy clouds, and birds of iridescent hues were flitting about. To their right was an imposing marble building with many columns. On the first step stood a being of blinding beauty. His fair face was surrounded by curly golden hair, his features were regular but set sternly, his blue eyes hard. His wings, which they remembered as charred and broken, were now renewed, looking more like a hawk's wings than the dove that Grace had vaguely imagined.

He spoke. "Fhjull, what is this? Your command, enforced by my geas, was to do anything that anyone demanded of you. Now you refuse, and my senses tell me that it was for these people's good, which is unheard of! I conceived that sometimes folk would ask you for things bad for them, but I thought that would be their look-out. But I would think that you would delight in doing them harm. Have you reformed, somehow?"

"Not at all, hated Betrayer," said Fhjull, still rocking with chuckles, "but when the prospect is sweet revenge, I do not stick at doing a little good for these nobodies."
Trias' beautiful features relaxed into a smile. "Well, that at least I can understand. So, what is it that you want me to do?" Fhjull went over and whispered in the deva's ear. He began to chuckle also.

"Ah, now I see your reason. Yes, by all means, this request shall not be answered, but in due time." He turned to Grace. "I know you, and that you helped me find redemption and reconciliation, along with these others here. We must now petition the Court of All Appeals, to find against this document."

Annah exploded. "D'ye mean to tak' it to the law-courts? We'll all be ded when they get to it."

Trias smiled at her, and she was awed by the kindliness. "No, little lover of him who is presently serving in the Blood War. We are here at the Court Building now. We shall not wait, for that involves time, and this place is outside Time, or, more accurately, is in all Time, for the actions of mortals are judged by this Court each time that you perform an action. We shall go right in. Fhjull, if I remember correctly, this will not be the first time that you have argued before this Court."

Fhjull smiled smugly. "Even I cannot remember how many times, Betrayer, and lost but one. I am ready. Let us go, now. Summon Toadpipe, for the case is against him."

The armored spirit activated a portal, and found himself in the midst of a Ba'atezu army. No one paid attention to him, a formless spirit. He strode about until he found the one that he sought, a tall, scarred human talking to a huge abashai. "It is you," he cried. "Tremble, for JUSTICE has now found you. I am Vhaillor, whom you BETRAYED. Prepare to receive JUSTICE. The abashai scuttled away, and the two faced each other, preparing to fight to the death.

The little party walked right in to the Court, as promised, and the tribunal was already assembled. Toadpipe, a tall, glowering blood-red pit fiend glared at Fhjull when they strode in, but did not dare say anything, because of the presence of the Judge.
Grace looked at this being with undisguised awe. Integrity radiated from him, as well as wisdom. His beard was long, but his face unlined, and the eyes that looked straight into the heart of all there were golden. Minos, the Judge of All. She fought the sudden desire to run away.

Fhjull, as the bringer of the complaint, approached the Bench first. "Your Supreme Honor," he began unctuously, "we are here today for a unique purpose, a Ba'atezu of my age and standing arguing for the reversal of an Infernal Contract. But, the situation is unique. Archdemon Toadpipe, my respected blood-enemy, has caused to be enforced a contract, the basis of which is flawed, as should be well-known to him. This contract, which I would like the Court to examine, is out of the usual form, I would say incompetently written if it were not for my respect for my former colleague, and would the Court please note the escape-clause?"

Toadpipe rose in barely-contained fury. "If it please the Court, the fact is that this man signed the contract, fully intending to get out of it. The list of crimes that he has committed, as You shall find appended to the Counter-Complaint, items 1 through 457,387,234,746 should alone send him to the Abyss, with the Court's blessing. I pray" (the word seemed to be bitter in his mouth) "that you hold this contract enforceable."

There then followed what seemed to be days of interminable argument and counterargument, objections and sur-rebuttals, that poor Annah got quite lost in the proceedings. She lay her head next to Grace's and hissed, "How is it going, mistress? Does it look good or bleak? I canna figure it out." Grace shook her head, not wanting a rebuke from that awesome Bench.

Finally, both sides rested and Minos spoke. "I think that we can now agree that, though sins were many, they were sincerely repented and that remorse of sufficient degree is present in the signer." Fhjull grinned at Toadpipe in triumph. "However," Minos went on, "the signer did sign the contract, and that has generally been held to be sufficient to override remorse and repentance, due to the free will that the One that is above us all has granted to mortals. There remains the matter of the escape clause, which I shall read into the Record. 'The contract shall be made null and void if the signee is able to charm, without force or magic, a Tanari'i of the rank of succubus and above, into his service.'" Has that action been performed?

Fhjull's smile was at its broadest. "Your Supreme Honor, I would like to call to the Witness Stand the succubus now known as Fall-from-Grace, now residing in Sigil at the Brothel of Slaking Intellectual Lusts."

Grace went with proper diffidence to the chair indicated. There was no oath. There was no need, as you could not lie to this judge. Fhjull began: "Did you, Fall-from-Grace, enter into the service of this man, known in the contract as Adahn?"

"I did," she answered firmly.

"You did so with no force or magic involved?" Fhjull's eye gleamed as he talked.
"No."

"You did so with no designs of preying on this individual, seducing him after the manner of succubi?"

"No. I have not done that for many years."
"And why is that?"

"I have come to see it as a pointless waste of time."

"You are not at this time enslaved to any other individual?" Fhjull seemed to shake internally with glee.

"No," Grace answered decisively. "I was once enslaved to a series of Ba'atezu nobles, but won my freedom."

Fhjull turned to Minos. "There you have it, your Supreme Honor. Your Honor knows that she is telling the truth. What could be simpler?"

Minos turned to Toadpipe. "Do you wish to cross-examine the witness, Counselor Toadpipe?"

The demon responded, "No, your Supreme Honor. What would be the use? Blast it, I had a succubus, a real one, not that mutilated thing," here he shot a withering glance at Grace, but she endured it with her usual composure, "ready for him. She would have sucked him right down into the Abyss, but he just laughed at her and walked off, saying that there was something else he wanted to try, first. Bah." He disappeared in a puff of sulfurous smoke, instantly disappeared by the blessed air of the court. Grace thought to herself, perhaps that was not the only thing that you are wrong about.

Minos inclined his head at the beaming Fhjull. "So" he said, "the contract is rendered null and void. Summon this man." Fhjull made a few passes.

Vhaillor took a blow from the huge mace and sent a vicious cut with his axe at the neck of his opponent. It cannot miss, he thought triumphantly. But suddenly, the big man was gone! Vhaillor quickly recovered from the swing and his shock. More tricks! He thought grimly, and followed the man through the portal.

The Nameless One, naked except for his own blood and carrying the mace, which quickly disappeared, stood in the Courtroom. He looked around, puzzled, and then at seeing Grace and Annah, comprehension dawned.

He looked at Trias, then up at Minos, and his proud head inclined. "Where am I?" he asked humbly, "and why am I here?" Annah frantically tried to rise and run to him, but Grace and Nordom held her down.

Minos answered him. "Your Infernal Contract has been held to be null and void. You are here for final judgment. You have borne many names, though Adahn is the name on this contract, it does not seem fitting to use it. We have considered your life and now give our verdict. You will at once be transported to the penal plane of Purgatory to expiate all of your sins that were not sincerely repented and expiated in your life. These are many, but like yourself for most of your long life, Purgatory is timeless. There, many punishments will be dealt to you. Accept them gladly, and one day, you may be released into the heavenly light. Receive them sullenly and resentfully, and you shall find yourself back in the Abyss."

The Nameless One bowed his head in assent. "Much suffering, much torment I have caused, your Honor. To be forgiven them is my sincerest desire. Do your will, I will accept these punishments with patience and joy.

"
The Judge looked grimly satisfied. "Thank now your friends," he said, indicating them. "Without them, you would still be in the Abyss."

He surveyed them. "Grace," he said finally, "you said you would find me, and you did. Thank you."

"It was my pleasure," she answered with a little smile. "It seemed the least that I could do."

"No," he replied, "the least would have been to leave me to rot. Thank you again. I'll always wonder why, but your enigma has saved me, and I am glad of it." He turned to Annah. "My fiery girl, you came, too. Somehow, I am not surprised. I wish that we could have had more time."

Annah glared fiercely, then crumbled. "I couldna do else. I..I..I wad see ye again, at least oncet."

"I'm glad that you have, my fierce one. Know that I fell in love with you."

"And I ye.." She could not continue, and looked away.

"Morte," he said, to cover her confusion, "I see that you are still tagging after Annah and Grace. You have done me a good turn, old skull. I appreciate it."

"Aw, shucks, Chief," Morte mumbled, "it was just so that I could try my luck with Annah again, you know me."

"Yes, Morte, I do. Nordom, thank you for your part."

"Nordom addressed," the little machine buzzed, "Offered: Appreciation. Action: Accepted. Odds that Nordom would do the same again. 104,000,000 to one, give or take 1.6."

Minos raised his hand to activate the portal to Purgatory, when Annah managed to get to her feet. "Yer Supreme Honor," she cried, "before ye send him, may I beg a boon?"
Minos almost smiled, and indicated that she should come forward. "You have done much to deserve the gratitude of this Court," he said gravely, "for, by your efforts, contrary to much of your nature, have helped to right a grave injustice. The amount of Justice in the Multiverse is a matter of immense concern to this Court. Ask your boon"

She wriggled a little in embarrassment, but finally said, "Yer Honor, I want te go with him."

A look, it might have been startlement, crossed the august face. "Go with him? Child, Purgatory is a place for the repentant dead and the spirits that minister to them, not one as alive as yourself. What would you do there? You cannot. and should not, take any of his punishments for him. They are for the good of his soul, not just to cause him pain."

"I ken that," she answered stoutly, "but, canna I jus' be there, to wipe his brow as he roasts in the flames? Or whatever. An', when I die, sinful as I be, I can go there too, and we can be together? Please, yer Honor. I think that I will die, soon, anyway, wi'out him, so I'll end up there, anyway."

Minos looked deeply into her, and finally said, "Yes, I shall grant your request. I see that if I do not, your soul might wither away and you end up in the Abyss, and that would be a foul thing." Annah ran to her love and put her arms around him. He patted her head as he looked at her bemusedly.

"Annah," he rumbled, "you do not have to do this. You are young. There will be others. You could have children."

She clung with him even more fiercely. "I dinna wan' bairns," she mumbled, "I know well what life woul' await 'em. Ye dinna ken how rare it is for …one o' my blood to find love, and rarer still to be loved back. So, my jo, I shall be wi' ye always. Will tha' be so ill?" For answer, he hugged her back.

But, one more rose from the back of the Courtroom. The armored spirit known as Vhaillor clanked to the front. "Your Honor," he puffed, "this is MERCY, not JUSTICE." This man committed awful CRIMES, to me, among others. He DESERVES the ABYSS."

Minos frowned, an awful thing. As he did, the roof seemed to split open, and choirs of Solars and Devas appeared, holding weapons aflame with heavenly fire. "As for you, Vhaillor," he intoned, "you shall not maintain this strange half-life that you almost live. I, under the One, am the Supreme Judge of the Multiverse. You shall no longer usurp my judgment. Begone to the Abyss, and take this man's place." Vhaillor sank through the floor and was gone.

The heavenly choirs disappeared. Minos then smiled upon the Nameless One and Annah. They disappeared, to embark on their long journey, together.

Minos indicated that they could go. Trias turned to Grace. "Well, what shall you do, now?"

She smiled. "Back to the Brothel, I suppose. We really are happy, there, and I have had enough adventure to last me for a great while. I have experienced much, and will need long to think on it."

"Yeah," said Morte, "I want to see Kimasxi again. I've thought of several new insults that I want to call her."

Nordom beeped and whirred. "Never do I want to be parted from Fall-from-Grace. Or at least for 106,412 years, give or take 2.3.

THE END