Chapter 10…Gith's Broken Blade
Bishop must have heard me unbar the door, because when I flung it open, I found him standing well back out of the way. The door slammed against the stop instead of against his face. What a shame.
My first impulse was to stiff-arm him against the wall but he had moved out of my reach. He also had the foresight to stand slightly behind Grobnar. And despite my overwhelmingly strong impulse to throttle him until he squeaked, I had sparred with him often enough to know that he would always be too quick and too powerful for me to tackle bare-handed.
But I hadn't used up all my spells at the battle with the shadow reaver.
I could feel my hair, which Ammon had unwisely released from its bondage, start to rise and crackle with energy as I began to focus my will. Bishop's eyes widened slightly and the smirk vanished from his face.
"For your sake," I said, "I hope Lord Nasher is at the gate or the keep is on fire because if not, you are about to become a greasy smear on my freshly plastered wall."
I felt Ammon looming behind me. I gave him a glance over my shoulder.
"Can you still do that trick where you boil a person's blood out of his body?" I asked him.
"Let's find out."
Bishop's eyes darted to each of us and he held out his hand.
"Zhjaeve sent me to get you," he said. "She wants to see you—both of you—in the war room as soon as possible."
I frowned. Of all the reasons I had expected Bishop to give as an excuse for this rude interruption, Zhjaeve ranked pretty high on the most unlikely list. Who would make up such a thing? He must be telling the truth.
"Doing errands for the gith now, are you Bishop?" Ammon growled. As usual, he cut straight to the discrepancy. Yes, Zhjaeve might wish to see me, but we all used Wolf's pack of urchins to run messages throughout the keep. Bishop wouldn't have come here to fetch me—and he wouldn't have dragged Grobnar along as a shield—without an ulterior motive. He was snooping around. My frown deepened.
"Well my goodness, my hair looked just like that once," Grobnar said, staring up at me. "By some mischance I managed to mistake my lightning wand for my comb. To this day I still have this little round bald spot, right here, see it? And…"
"Tell me later, Grobnar," I said and turning back to Bishop, asked, "What does she want?" He shrugged.
"Something to do with that shard we found today," he drawled. Ammon and I exchanged glances.
"Fine," I said. "I'm coming." Bishop quirked an eyebrow and looked me up and down. My shirt was billowing loose and the tie was undone. My jerkin was still on the floor somewhere, as were my shoes and socks. My hair was a lost cause. I didn't really care. I didn't think Zhjaeve was going to be particularly shocked by the sight of my loose hair and bare feet. I was reasonably certain she would not inspect me for undergarments.
Ammon looked like he always did. It didn't seem quite fair somehow.
"Nice hair," Bishop murmured as I swept haughtily past him. He neatly sidestepped the elbow I aimed at his gut. That didn't seem quite fair either.
Bishop and Grobnar both followed us to the war room but I gave them a look and they suddenly realized they needed to be elsewhere. Zhjaeve had all the shards that we had found so far laid out on the table like a confusing puzzle.
"Look," the githzerai said, her voice throbbing with excitement. She took me by the hand to draw me closer to the table. The new shard was larger than the rest and she had placed it first in the lineup. I had seldom seen her eyes so bright.
"Know that with this shard, we now have enough to recreate the Sword of Gith!"
"And how do you know that?" Ammon asked harshly.
"I simply know."
I gave her a dubious look.
"Are you certain?" I asked, "Because there sure are a lot of pieces still missing."
"You doubt when you should not." Her tone was chiding.
"Yeah, but it still looks like more air than sword." I looked down and realized that my hand was caressing the new shard. For some reason, no doubt due to the shard lodged in my chest, it made me feel good to touch the other pieces. For the longest time I had carried them in a small pouch close to my skin and it still gave me something of a pang whenever I left them behind.
"Maybe the shards could be recast into a smaller blade," I added but the thought of melting them down gave me another pang.
"You wish us to face the King of Shadows with the Paring Knife of Gith?" Ammon asked scornfully. "I think not."
"How do we fix it then?" I looked at Ammon. He looked at Zhjaeve. I got another one of those sinking feelings that I hated so much.
"Know that the Blade of Gith cannot be forged with heat. Something greater must be used to unite the shards and make them whole."
"Something greater?" I said. "Okay. What then?" Ammon and Zhjaeve exchanged another one of those looks and this one seemed a bit more antagonistic.
"I still do not understand how the sword was broken in the first place," she said. "Was it the power of the avatar of the King of Shadows?"
Ammon just gave a curt shrug that I could tell irritated Zhjaeve. Frankly, it irritated me as well. He had been there, after all. We hadn't. Well, technically I had been there, but surely a babe in arms wasn't expected to contribute to the failure analysis of a legendary weapon.
"It broke," he said at last. "Why, I do not know."
He had told me it had broken because his will had faltered but apparently there was more to it than that.
"I had thought you would know more," she said, with a hint of accusation in her voice. "You held it when it was unmade, did you not?"
"Just as it returned the avatar to the Shadow Plane, the force of the sword's destruction cast me into the Lower Planes, where I was detained for quite some time," he said angrily. "I have had little leisure since then to discover exactly how the blade was broken."
"Then what do we do?" I asked. Zhjaeve continued to look steadily at Ammon. "Come on, now, what do we do?"
"There is one who has had much time to consider it," he said at last. "And he knows something of the King of Shadows as well."
"Not another devil, I hope."
"No," he said, giving me a slight frown. "The King of Shadows has many enemies. In the past, he fought an ancient dragon known as Nolaloth. Nolaloth was recruited by the Illefarn Empire to aid in their fight against the King of Shadows but he was struck down. His spirit was chained to this realm until they could find a way to heal him."
"And did they?" I asked.
"They did not. As he fell, so also did Illefarn fall. The resurrection of their mercenary was not one of their priorities, it seems."
"Will he help us? Can he help us?"
"I do not know. His hatred of the King of Shadows is great, so he may be willing to help for that reason. As to whether he has any knowledge that is of use to us, I do not know that either. He might." Ammon moved closer to the table and looked down at the shards. His face was unreadable.
"Nolaloth has a history both with the githyanki and their silver swords. He may know something of Gith's blade. And Nolaloth has long watched the efforts of his enemy to claim this plane. He knows much of his tactics. I spoke to him years ago and thought I had learned what he knew of the King of Shadows. But that was before the blade was broken. It may be worth your while to speak to him yourself."
A dragon. Great. I had barely survived my last attempt to get something out of a dragon. At least this one was already dead. Ammon ignored my sour look. He walked over to the map on the wall and after a few moments' study, put his finger on it. "His spirit is trapped in this valley. This is where you must go," he told me. He gave Zhjaeve a look of dislike. "I am sure your gith follower would like to accompany you."
"Whoa," I said. "Sounds like you aren't planning on coming."
"Nolaloth and I did not part on friendly terms," he said tersely. "I doubt he will speak to you at all if he senses that I am in your company."
So Nolaloth was a dragon, he was dead, and he was touchy. This just got better and better.
"This dragon of yours is a sudden revelation," Zhjaeve said and it sounded like she had even more reservations than I did. "Why have you not spoken of him before?"
"If I had thought it relevant, I would have," he snapped.
The two continued to bicker while I studied the map. The valley was quite a distance away and the path looked to be over rough terrain as well. Even traveling lightly, it was likely to take a ten-day or more to reach. This quest would cost us a month, and if it chanced that the dragon knew nothing to help us, that month would be a total loss. Still, I didn't have any better ideas.
I was going to have to give Casavir command of the keep. Kana was a good officer but she wouldn't make decisions. Khelgar and I could handle the fighting. Zhjaeve was an excellent healer and she would be essential if we ran into any shadow reavers, but on the trail, she was barely competent to gather firewood. Damn it, I was going to need Bishop as a scout and a hunter.
"If we're going to do this, we'd better get ready," I said, breaking in on the argument. Those two wouldn't agree that water was wet. "Zhjaeve, you will come?"
"Know that I go where the Kalach-Cha goes," she said. Ammon gave me a look of extreme irony.
"Then go pack your gear," I said, making a mental note to send her my squire so she didn't forget anything essential like armor or weapons. The last road trip we'd taken had been something of a fiasco. "We'll start in the morning."
"I need to go tell Casavir he's now in charge of the keep," I told Ammon. "Please try to support him while I'm gone." He gave me a look just this side of an eye-roll but I knew the two men rubbed each other the wrong way, always. At least Ammon, unlike Bishop, wouldn't go out of his way to needle the paladin. I hoped.
"Know that the power of Nolaloth's spirit draws lesser dragons like flies to dung," he said. I hated when he mimicked Zhjaeve. It was so disrespectful—and besides, I was afraid I might start doing it too. "You're going to need another wizard to back you up."
"Now you tell me." It would have to be Sand. At least his constant complaints were more entertaining than Qara's and he was less likely to 'accidentally' target the party with a fireball if he woke up on the wrong side of the bedroll. Besides, being an elf, he never fell asleep on watch. And maybe he would teach me some more spells while we were on the road.
I gave one of Wolf's minions a message for Khelgar and for Bishop. They were in the pub no doubt. I went to my room and found that my squire was already packing my gear. The keep gossips knew my decisions sooner than I did, it seemed. I sent her off to help Zhjaeve. Just as she left, there was a tap on the door. The door was already open but I waved Casavir inside.
"Oh, good, I need to speak to you," I said.
"And I wish to speak to you," he said gravely.
"What troubles you?" I asked, concerned by his expression. He shut the door and came closer. I was seriously alarmed that he had felt the need to close the door.
"I sensed an infernal presence here in the keep today," he said in a low voice. "I could not find you earlier to warn you. I fear that Ammon Jerro is summoning his old allies. Perhaps he was also behind the attack on you the other night."
I felt a flush burn high on my cheeks.
"That was me," I admitted. "I am the one who summoned Mephasm. Ammon actually advised against it." Casavir's frown deepened as I explained what I had done.
"You must not bargain with these creatures," he finally said.
"You're right." And then I explained my mission to Nolaloth, and that I needed him to watch over the keep while I was gone. "I can't think of anyone I'd trust more," I said and I pressed his hand.
"I would rather go with you," he said. "The preparations for war go well. Kana or Sir Nevalle can oversee them as well as I can."
"I disagree," I said. "Besides, what if Nasher suddenly decides he needs half my Greycloaks for a parade or half my workers to rebuild the city baths? You can say no and make it stick. Kana won't. I need you to do this, Casavir."
We both sighed, because honestly, I'd rather have him fighting by my side than Khelgar, who had a tendency to start more fights than he could finish.
After that I gave Sand the bad news. He complained a bit on general principle but he had clearly been expecting my visit.
"I'm sure it will be highly interesting and educational, particularly if we survive," he said.
"If we all die, I expect Grobnar will compose a suitable elegy." Only Sand could make such an expressively derisive face and still look elegant at the same time.
Chores out of the way, it was with a spirit of anticipation that I headed back down to the basement. I tapped on Ammon's door then pushed it open. I saw my jerkin and my unmentionable linens lying folded in a chair, my shoes underneath. Even my socks were folded. Something about that neat little pile set off an internal alarm. My smile became tentative. Ammon was standing by the wall as if he were deep in thought.
"Kistrel is guarding the stairway," I said. "She won't let anyone pass."
"You can speak with the spider?" He wasn't smiling back and he should have been.
"Bodo can." At his puzzled look, I added, "My beetle familiar, his name is Bodo." There was no change in his expression. "I've always been good with vermin. Maybe that's why Bishop is still hanging around." He still didn't smile and I had to suppress the urge to chatter. I took a step closer, close enough for him to touch me if he wished. He made no move to do so.
"What's the matter?" I reached out to put my arms around his neck. He caught my hands and held them still.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"Oh no, you don't," I said. "Don't you dare do this to me."
"Think, girl. I did not realize the githzerai would be so useless. The sword must be forged, Jess, and we do not know how to do so. Nolaloth may not have the information we need." His eyes burned into me.
"Despite the fact that we have a common enemy, the githyanki will never give up their secrets. They will die first and let us die too. We are running out of options." He tightened his grip on my hands painfully. "We may be forced to turn to the Still Lord. He helped me find the Sword of Gith. He may have the knowledge to repair it. He may be able to obtain this knowledge where we cannot."
"The Still Lord—he's Mephasm's boss, isn't he? Do you think I will deal with such as him?"
"We may have no choice, Jess. Will you let the Sword Coast die out of squeamishness?"
I wasn't sure how a reluctance to deal with an arch-devil could be considered squeamish but then Ammon didn't always see things as normal people did.
"I…guess not. So what are you saying, you want me to save my virginity in case we need to sweeten the deal with the baatezu?"
"They have expressed an interest. This is a sacrifice you may be required to make, Jess." His face was pale and still. "I hope it does not come to that but we must be prepared."
"Damn you, Ammon."
"It is a little late for that."
I twisted my hands out of his grip and turned away. I was going to be gone for at least a month—if I returned at all. I really didn't want to sleep alone tonight. I never wanted to sleep with one of the baatezu. And I'd already swilled down Zhjaeve's extremely nasty contraceptive potion. This really wasn't fair.
"Bishop's going with me, you know," I said to the open doorway. "There is no guarantee that I'll still be a virgin when I return."
"Don't be angry. I said I was sorry for this." I turned to face him.
"You don't look half as sorry as I feel."
"You have no idea how I feel."
"You're right about that," I said bitterly.
"Come," he said. I came closer and he put his arms around me. I lifted my face for a kiss but he just shook his head a little and said, "Don't test my resolve." He did let me rest my head on his shoulder though. He stroked my hair.
Damned warlock. I was pretty sure I hated him.