The next day, Wahisietel went to the palace to find it trashed.
The purple fire had long gone out, the decorations strewn about the lawn haphazardly. It was another cloudy day, and the building seemed hunched and muted in the new light.
Still, it seemed as busy as it had the night before. Human workers, dressed in the cheap clothing common to the Lower District, swarmed about the lawn indistinctly, cleaning up the detritus.
As Wahisietel approached, several stopped what they were doing to stare at him. There was a moment of hurried chatter amongst them, in the midst of which Wahisietel heard the words "Pontifex Maximus" and "Mahjarrat", before they clumsily began to get down on one knee.
Wahisietel nodded at them, and felt deeply uncomfortable. Kneeling was for gods, not mortals. Still, he made his expected response, which was to approach one and rest his fingertips on the human's forehead. Gratefully, the rest rose, and went back to work as though nothing had interrupted it.
Wahisietel smiled at the human he had chosen. The man looked as though his smile had been locked in place with a metal bar.
"Good morning," Wahisietel said.
A look of panic crossed the man's face briefly. "Er," he said. "Good morning, Pontifex." Some of his colleagues cast him looks of mixed sympathy and amusement.
"I need access to the palace," Wahisietel said.
The man looked like a kyatt who was not only being physically forced into a pitfall, but also socially obligated by the other kyatts to comply. "Do you have permission from the Priest-King?" he asked hesitantly.
Wahisietel produced the summons. It had arrived on his doorstep earlier that day, delivered by a Chthonian who looked as though it would rather be feasting upon Wahisietel's flesh than bringing him a message. It was a very boring piece of paper with very boring words written on it, so Wahisietel was fairly sure that Sliske had no part in its creation or its delivery this time, which was a welcome luxury.
It was a notice that a meeting was occurring in the palace between Dagroda and "those persons of importance whom have received this communiqué" to discuss "matters of import to the war effort and the continued survival of our glorious city". Briefly, Wahisietel had wondered if Alifanta had complained to Dagroda about his and Sliske's escapades from the night before, but he knew that if she had, Sliske would know about it almost before Dagroda himself.
"Thank you sir," the human said, giving the paper only a cursory glance up and down. "I'll unlock it for you, then," he added, after a moment, and wrenched himself into motion towards the great doors, Wahisietel following closely.
The palace workers, despite being drawn almost entirely from the Lower District, were given a unique privilege unknown even to the most prestigious of the nobility; the key to the palace. Of course, they were not allowed to enter without permission, but it was a warm idea to go to bed with at the end of the day, Wahisietel was told.
The "key", of course, was figurative. The doors were locked by magical means. They were covered with great, looping symbols burning faintly with energy.
The worker placed his hands on two of them now. He began to mutter something under his breath. Wahisietel did not listen in; even if he could hear it, it wouldn't do him any good. The words needed changed and mutated under a strange evolutionary dictum that only Dagroda understood.
The markings flared briefly, and then stopped. When the worker removed his hands from the door, the two he'd been covering were now devoid of light.
The worker smiled nervously, and pushed one of the doors open with his foot. It swung open, and hung uncertainly a few inches from its brother.
"'S done, sir," the worker said. Now, he seemed flushed with happiness, feeling that he had proven himself against some unspecified test.
"Thank you," Wahisietel said. "You've done well," he added, feeling it was the right thing to say.
The worker bowed to him, and hurried back to his colleagues, who clustered around him like sharks and demanded in hushed voices to know what the Mahjarrat had said to him.
Wahisietel stepped into the palace, and closed the door behind him with a heavy thud. The interior, in contrast to the lawn, was as empty as they were the night before.
Wahisietel did not often visit the palace halls. As he made his way through them now, he felt self-conscious, as though he'd somehow shown up at the wrong place. The ancient stone seemed to give off waves of hostility, trying to tell him that he was a stranger here.
The doors to Dagroda's chamber were unassuming in contrast to the rest of the palace. They were wooden, and had only a simple lock keeping it shut, although the lock itself was set with many powerful enchantments. Wahisietel unlocked it with a key issued only to himself, Sliske, and Wisakedjak, and gazed upon the throne room of Senntisten.
Originally, the throne had been occupied by Zaros himself, towering over the rest of the room. Now, Dagroda, a middle-aged, severe looking human sat in it, projecting his gaze about the room. On either side, Sliske and Wisakedjak stood. Alifanta stood next to Wisakedjak. She met Wahisietel's gaze with indifference, and Wahisietel felt relief wash over him for a reason he could not name.
"You're late," Sliske says. There is impatience in his voice, but laughter too, hidden behind it so carefully that none but Wahisietel could hear it.
"I'm here now," Wahisietel said. "Am I needed?"
"We cannot proceed without the Pontifex Maximus, of course," Wisakedjak said smoothly. "What we are discussing here today is of import to the entire Empire."
Sliske mouthed "of import" to Wahisietel, and Wahisietel almost laughed aloud. It felt strangely good to know that Sliske had seemed to have forgiven whatever rift arose between them the night before.
"Then," Wahsietel said. "Let's not delay any further."
Demons lined up at the side of the room stood to attention as Wahisietel assumed position beside Sliske. Sliske ignored him, Wisakedjak cast him a brief look of hostility, and Alifanta made a point to pay no attention to him, which Wahisietel had always felt was a kind of attention in of itself.
Dagroda spoke mildly- Wahisietel had never known him to speak in any other way- but his voice still contained power that would have made Zamorak renounce his own godhood if only he'd hear it.
"I'm sure," he said, "that you have all met Alifanta."
The Icyene bowed solemnly as every eye turned to her. Now, her crooked wing seemed more powerful than the right one, as if to prove to the audience that she had suffered for her beliefs as well as any of them.
"Some, indeed, have spent more time with her than others," Dagroda said.
Wahisietel went cold. He knew. He cast a surreptitious glance at Sliske, but his brother kept his gaze fixed forward.
"I am also sure that all of you in this room have heard the news she brings to us," Dagroda continued. "It is grim news, indeed."
The nobles in the room began to murmur to themselves. Some cast distrustful glances at Alifanta. Demons were a cynical race by birthright, and the rebellion of their Avernic slaves had not helped, despite the fact that no demons in the room were old enough to remember having slaves. Normally, Wahisietel felt that cynicism excessive, but now he agreed. Every time Alifanta spoke, it seemed as though there were more words lurking beneath the first like tectonic plates, shifting and guiding them.
"I have called this meeting so that we may decide on what course of action to take." Dagroda's voice thundered over the nobles, bringing silence down like a veil over the whole room, although Wahisietel could not say whether he had increased his voice level at all. He knelt back his throne, as though the effort of talking had cost too much.
"I have a plan," Wisakedjak announced into the silence. "We question, for the first damned time it seems, whether or not our informant is telling the truth."
Alifanta's harsh eyes swiveled to face Wisakedjak. She opened her mouth to say something, but Dagroda cut her off.
"Enough, Wisakedjak," he said, glaring at the Mahjarrat. Wisakedjak glared right back.
"I'm telling you all the truth," Alifanta addressed the rest of the room.
"Forgive me if I don't hang on every word you say like a child," Wisakedjak sneered. "You may ask what reason we have to mistrust you, but I ask what reason have we to trust you?"
"I do, and that should be enough for you," Dagroda said, giving him a look that, if looks could kill, meant Wisakedjak would have died all the way back in childbirth.
"I do as well."
Wisakedjak fell silent, and all eyes fell on Sliske, who studied his hand innocuously.
"You trust her?" Wahisietel asked incredulously.
"I don't trust her," Sliske said. "I don't trust many people, least of all her. But I believe her."
Wahisietel spared a glance for Alifanta, who looked as surprised as the rest of them.
"Thank you, Sliske," she said. Sliske smirked at this, but did not respond.
"And as it happens," he continued, "I have an idea for how we can solve all of our problems, with as little loss of life as possible."
If it was silent in the room before, it was even more so now. Over the centuries, even the demons had learned to listen when Sliske spoke.
"Trivia time!" Sliske exclaimed, and in the blink of an eye Sliske's earlier, brooding demeanor had been shed so quickly it was dizzying, revealing something that reminded Wahisietel uncomfortably of the eerily cheery yellow mask. "Who hates each other more than anyone else in history?"
Sliske's gaze fell on Wahisietel. "Um," he said. "Zamorak and Zaros?"
"Wrong," Sliske said. "Close, but wrong. I'll give you all a hint." He stared around the room. Wisakedjak looked annoyed and Alifanta looked puzzled, but the rest of the room had long resigned themselves to putting up with whatever Sliske did.
"Who hates each other more than anyone else in history, and is currently camped outside of our city preparing to attack? And frankly," Sliske said, "I'm giving you too much help as it is."
Sliske's gaze was on Wahisietel again. "Saradomin and Zamorak," he said.
"Right," Sliske said. "No points for that one, that was practically cheating."
"What is the point of this?" Wisakedjak asked, looking around the room for support. However, Alifanta and even Dagroda were now absorbed in Sliske's tirade.
"Next question," Sliske said, striding back and forth on the polished marble floor. "How strong, approximately, is the combined force of Saradomin and Zamorak?"
Sliske directed this question at a clerk who was standing tucked away in the corner of the room, busily taking down the entire exchange on paper. She looked up, startled. "Er, considering the size of both armies and the ability of both to siphon troops from outlying provinces without fear of attack in the absence of hostilities such a truce would engender," she began, hastily scribbling on the paper and talking so quickly Wahisietel was amazed she was able to keep all the words in order, "I would say at least one-hundred thousand, my lord."
There was a rushed intake of breath all around the room. Everyone knew that the army Alifanta talked about had to be huge, but hearing it spoken aloud made it suddenly tangible.
"Thank you," Sliske said with uncharacteristic softness. He turned to the rest of the room. "Question three," he said. "What is the most efficient way to deal with a force of that size, given the information we have?"
Sliske was not looking at Wahisietel anymore, but Wahisietel at last felt like he understood what Sliske was driving at. "We turn them against each other," he said.
Sliske beamed at him. "Question number four," he said. "Who is the best at disguises, enchantments, and general trickery of all kinds in the whole of the Empire, if not the world? Ancillary question; who is the best equipped to take on a task of that magnitude with the least amount of risk? Don't worry, everyone," Sliske added, "the answers to both questions are the same."
He grinned at the room, most of whom stared blankly back.
"You," Alifanta said.
"Me," Sliske said. The grin subsided, leaving only a satisfied smile in its place. All at once, a new personality seemed to assume itself over Sliske. "I will go to the main war-camp for whatever Zamorak and Saradomin have going on," he said, "and I will do my best to-"
"No."
The voice came from nowhere, and for the first time since Sliske started his game, he seemed uncertain. "No, Dagroda?"
The Priest-King stood. His full height was dwarfed by the average Mahjarrat, but now even Wisakedjak, who looked about the murder someone, seemed cowed. "You will not go anywhere," he said. "I need you here, for something far more important."
Sliske looked shocked, which as far as Wahisietel knew was a first. "More important, my lord? If you'll forgive me, we are under threat of attack by the most significant-"
"You know what I'm referring to, Sliske," Dagroda said. "But I am not disagreeing with you."
Wahisietel looked at Sliske, who looked as though he wanted to say something very different from what he finally settled on. "My lord?" he asked.
Dagroda's gaze shifted to Wahisietel, who felt a horrible understanding coming over him. "Wahisietel will go in your place," Dagroda said.
The nobles burst into chatter once again. Wahisietel knelt numbly before the throne, trying to avoid looking at Sliske. "I will do what I can, my lord," he said. Dagroda nodded absently, and sat back down in his throne. He stared directly at Sliske, who looked away first and assumed his position beside the throne.
"Tomorrow Wahisietel will report to this room at ten o'clock to prepare for this assignment," Dagroda said. "This meeting is adjourned. Alifanta and Wisakedjak, follow me." With that, the Priest-King stood and strode down the middle of the room, the Icyene and the Mahjarrat in tow, leaving Wahisietel, Sliske, and the demons alone the room. Stiffly, and without glancing back at Wahisietel, Sliske followed them.
Wahisietel sighed, and began his own exit as the demons finally broke the order they'd uncomfortably kept for the duration of the meeting and resumed their chatter. He didn't notice it before, but it appeared that he had developed a headache.
…
It was hardly noon by the time Wahisietel returned to his house, which surprised him. He felt as weary as if it were night-time.
He stared out over the Upper District. What on earth had possessed Dagroda to choose him for a mission so obviously meant for Sliske? He wasn't any good at sneaking about or lying. Whatever gene Sliske had gotten, it had passed Wahisietel by.
He was so tired. It felt as though he could sleep for Ages. If this was what humans went through every night, he was glad to be a Mahjarrat.
As it was, he did not notice the presence in his house, much less have the wherewithal to do anything about it if he had.
"Wahisietel," growled a familiar voice. Wahisietel jumped and assumed battle position, heart pounding, as a shape formed itself in the shadows.
Wisakedjak looked angrier than Wahisietel had ever seen him. On instinct, Wahisietel cycled through everything he could possibly have done to offend the Mahjarrat during the past week. "I thought you were with Dagroda and Alifanta?" he asked.
Wisakedjak snorted, and Wahisietel saw that the anger was not directed at him. "Those two don't need me hanging about," he said venomously. "I'd probably kill the vibe."
"What do you mean?" Wahisietel asked.
Wisakedjak shook his head. "Never mind. Not what I'm here for." He focused on Wahisietel. "Why did Dagroda choose you?"
"I don't know," Wahisietel said honestly.
"That's crap," Wisakedjak said bluntly. The anger, previously roiling about with no specific target, found one and rushed to it with renewed vigor. "You have something to do with those two, I know it. And I know you and Sliske visited Alifanta at the party."
Wahisietel's stomach lurched. He had no idea how Wisakedjak could possibly have found out. Perhaps he'd underestimated the larger Mahjarrat. "And?" he asked, trying to keep the surprise out of his voice. "I still have no idea what you're talking about."
Wisakedjak narrowed his eyes and glared right into Wahisietel's. Wahisietel stood his ground, but even he felt like fleeing as Wisakedjak scoured his soul.
Finally the other Mahjarrat relaxed, as much as was possible for him. "Fine," he said. "I believe you. But you cannot deny that something is happening."
Wahisietel opened his mouth to tell him that, in fact, he could, but nothing came up. As he examined the last few days, Dagroda's absence at the party and the odd role assignment at the meeting rang suspicious, and as much as Sliske proclaimed to trust Alifanta, Wahisietel didn't.
Wisakedjak seemed satisfied. He stepped back. "Think about it, Wahisietel," he said. "Something is coming, and we must be ready." With that, he vanished.
All of Wahisietel's exhaustion flooded back into him like air into a vacuum once Wisakedjak left. He stumbled upstairs and collapsed into the bed. Sleep came over him like a blanket, and the world vanished.
I'm so proud of myself. Two weeks and already a new chapter! I hope this one turned out all right given the increased speed, but I enjoyed writing this one and I hope you enjoyed reading it.
Oh, and a brief note; I'm thinking I'm going to give NaNoWriMo a try next month, which means updates might be slower, assuming I keep up with the 1,500-odd word-a-day pace, which I probably won't. I'll see what I can do about this story, and I have no intention of abandoning it especially now that I'm getting into the main thrust of the story. Watch this space!
(I've always wanted to say that)
(Oh, and have a nice day )