"Oh, dear," the gnome muttered, gulping audibly as he looked up at the glowering form of Badswell. "This is a very large one—and worse, not man, and not ogre. Dear, dear me! He seems a very chaotic mix of the two."
"Leave him alone!" snapped Saysi, confronting the gnome through the bars of our cage. She was as tall as the stocky little fellow, who blinked and stammered awkwardly, taken aback by her firm stance.
"Now, now," declared the man, stepping forward until he stood just beyond the bars on the opposite side of the cage. I momentarily considered a quick stab, Goldfinder snicking through the grid, but discarded the notion—at least for now. After all, this fellow might be able to tell us something useful; he might even let us out of the cage. It didn't help my plan that he seemed to be watching me carefully, obviously anticipating some sort of aggressive move.
Even without his observance, however, I'm not sure I would have attempted violence. There was a quiet competence about this man that gave me pause, so I decided to wait and see what happened next.
"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Parnish Fegher, your host in this house of law. As long as you are capable of following a few simple rules, I think you'll find that we shall get along quite nicely."
"Do you always trap your guests in iron cages?" Saysi snapped.
"Heavens, no! Only my most important visitors, I should say. Isn't that right, Rathentweed?"
"Oh, quite," the gnome declared, bobbing his head eagerly. His pointed beard bounced enthusiastically, and his tasseled hat flopped around with a ludicrous motion that would have been amusing under other circumstances. I found it hard to believe that anyone could walk around with a nose like that; it seemed that the weight must certainly topple him forward onto his face. "That is, he caught me the same way when I came here with my piece of the rod!"
"He let you out, then?" Badswell deduced.
"Certainly—as soon as I gave him my piece of the rod. You see, he already had the fifth. That's what drew me here. And I gave him the fourth. Now it's your turn! That's all he wants... well, mostly, anyway."
I began to sense that this situation might not be completely disastrous. If we just had to give up the stubs of the black artifact before getting out of here, perhaps I could bring myself to do so.
"Why do you want the Rod of Seven Parts?" Saysi asked with her typical lack of reticence.
"My dear, the rod is the artifact, the symbol and embodiment, of ultimate law. There is nothing else like it among all the planes. It represents power beyond belief."
I was not pleased to hear Parnish talking about worlds and planes and such. It reminded me too much of those white gates and the attacks of the spyder-fiends that had grown so distressingly frequent.
"Surely you know that throughout the world there is a great surfeit of chaos," continued our determined host. "Why, you can see it in the wretched refuse that clogs the streets and alleys of my own city. Thieves and whores and drunkards abound, committing debaucheries beyond comprehension, and well beyond the bounds of law."
"We noticed," I stated dryly. "Argenport seems to be a little the worse for wear."
"It is the coming of chaos! The power of the queen is abroad in the world!"
"And you plan to stop her?" I couldn't help needling a little bit.
"I shall try, using the power of the rod," replied Parnish, without a trace of irony or amusement. "Nothing else, anywhere, embodies the rigid framework of order as purely and as potently as even the tiniest piece of this mighty artifact. And the one who can assemble the pieces will be the wielder of power unlike anything known for a thousand years! A reign of true law will commence, an order superior to any the world has ever seen! Wrongdoers will face their deserved punishment, and the tides of chaos will be held firmly at bay."
Privately I smiled at the prospect of his attempting to join the pieces, almost hoping that we'd see Parnish try to stick two of the black sticks together. Well did I remember the sudden disappearance of Badswell's stub when I had tried to do the same thing.
"Of course, this assembly is not a thing done quickly or casually," Parnish continued, quickly quashing my momentary amusement. "Only a fool would try to do that. No, one must prepare the spells, the hieroglyphics, the arcane symbology and incantations that will allow the pieces to be properly fused. Now, if you will be kind enough to hand over your pieces, I will see that the cage is removed."
Sighing in resignation, Saysi pulled forth her stub of the rod. Badswell and I did the same, though, for my part at least, without the reluctance that the little priestess displayed.
Parnish Fegher's eyes glinted avariciously as he took each of the pieces, carefully stowing it away before touching the next one. I noticed that even when he tucked them away, he kept them a good distance away from each other: one in a shoulder pouch, one in a purse hanging from his belt on the opposite side, and one even stuck into the upper cuff of his leather boot.
"You talk very proudly of the law," Saysi observed sharply. "Yet that didn't prevent you from taking us captive nor from stealing our possessions!"
Silently I willed her to be quiet, sensing that this wasn't a good time to be angering our host—not when we had just relinquished our only bargaining chips,
"My acts are well justified by the very law you would invoke," Parnish replied smoothly. "The profit to the entire world must be weighed against the possessions of a few. The risks and the debits are great. You should know that, sooner rather than later, someone or something would have taken these from you. It is far better for the world, and I daresay for you, that they have come to me."
"That's what you say!" Saysi declared heatedly.
"That's what I know. Now, if the debate has concluded, I shall release you."
"The debate has concluded," I declared, with a stern look at the unrepentant priestess.
"Very good," our host said with a benign smile. He muttered a word and pointed. My skin prickled at the sensation of magic all around me as the metal cage, which must have weighed many hundred pounds, lifted into the air without a perceptible strain on the part of Parnish Fegher.
Immediately I knew that our captor was a wizard, and no slouch of a one to judge by the ease with which he levitated the cage. I congratulated myself privately on the discretion that had prevented me from trying to stab him through the bars. If I had, I suspected that right about now I would be hopping around in the form of a frog or something.
"Thanks for getting the cage off—and you're welcome to my part of the rod!" I snapped peevishly. "Now, if you'll just open the door, we'll be on our way."
"The door? Heavens, no!" Parnish objected.
"But you promised—" Saysi began, before he cut her off with a curt gesture.
"My dear, I promised to let you out of the cage. And I have done so, I'm sure you will agree. After all, I never go back on my word."
"But you won't let us out of your house?" I demanded.
"No, no. That would be impossible. You will remain here as my guests—my pupils, if you will—and I hope that you will be apt students."
The wizard appeared distracted for a moment, as if his thoughts had just traveled far away. Abruptly his eyes flashed onto mine in a smile that was both observant and empathetic—much in the same way that a hungry snake might stare at a mouse.
CHAPTER 15
TALE OF THE WOLF-SPIDER
I have been imprisoned on several occasions during the course of a long and eventful life, once spending the better part of a year in a dank, flea-infested hole at the rear of a giant's lair. At other times, I've been locked up for various periods in a king's dungeon, a sheriff's cell, and even a storage room behind a gem cutter's shop. By the standards of all those previous captivities, the surroundings of Parnish Fegher's mansion were admittedly not too bad.
After he removed the cage, the wizard ushered us through a luxurious anteroom and down a long hallway. Polished marble columns flanked the door at the far end. Plush carpeting layered the floors, and every wall we
had seen so far had been paneled in smoothly finished planking.
"We have only a few matters to discuss before you get settled," our host informed us.
"What kind of matters?" I asked suspiciously.
He ignored my question. "By tomorrow, serious work will begin. I hope you will have no difficulties making yourselves comfortable before then."
"Our host's accommodations are splendid," Rathentweed declared enthusiastically. "You will be right at home. Even you will have a large enough bed," he assured Badswell.
"A bed, huh?" The half-ogre nodded thoughtfully. Obviously he wasn't terribly distraught about our imprisonment. As Saysi looked around in wide-eyed amazement, I realized with disgust that I seemed to be the only one who was upset about the involuntary nature of our stay.
Accompanied by our captor and the fussy gnome, we entered a large sitting room. Eight chairs stood in pairs around the chamber, facing a fireplace—currently cold—and a craggy limestone hearth in the wall opposite the door. A large chandelier sparkled brightly after one word from Parnish, shedding light throughout the room. There were no windows, and I remembered from my outside observations that the entire first floor of the manor had been enclosed by a solid wall.
The wizard promised us that we would have private rooms—"chambers," he called them—and servants to tend to our needs. Indeed, no sooner had he made these explanations than several liveried young men appeared with tape measures, pins, and samples of cloth material.
"We have certain standards of dress here," Parnish explained. "Of course, you didn't know that when you arrived, so your initial breach of etiquette will be forgiven. However, as soon as garments can be prepared, you will all be expected to follow the rules."
He sniffed audibly as he looked over Badswell, whose ragged breeches showed the strain of our weeks in the wilderness—not that they had been spectacular to begin with. I had maintained myself a little more carefully, but even so the patches at my knees and elbows were wearing thin. The wizard looked archly down his nose at me, sneering through his spectacles as he pinched my threadbare collar until I angrily pulled away and, with a great show of dignity, straightened my clothes as much as possible.
Only Saysi, who had managed to keep her skirts and robes clean, drew a slight nod of approval. However, she was still included as the tailor and his apprentices stood us straight, then measured arms, legs, feet, shoulders, and all sorts of other dimensions. The clothiers bustled around in silent concentration, the only sounds the scratching of quills on parchment as they noted down innumerable figures.
"What you do need that for?" I asked once as I was being very thoroughly measured for an inseam. I had always preferred loose-fitting garments and made a point of saying so, but the apprentice, a young man, merely looked down and scribbled a note onto his sheet of parchment.
"Can't these guys talk?" I demanded as the servants continued to ignore our questions and comments.
"They can, but they won't," Parnish said. "It's against the rules."
"What rule is that?"
"The rule that bars the servants from speaking. Violation means instant dismissal, but it has been years since there has been an infraction."
"You mean that none of the servants in your house are allowed to speak?" I asked, dumbfounded.
Parnish nodded calmly. "I have found that the servant-to-master relationship is more profitable that way. Of course, they're permitted to converse normally once they have left the bounds of my estate."
"Why in the world do you have a rule like that?" pressed Saysi, looking sympathetically at the small army of bustling, mute tailors.
"Profit and debit, as I intimated earlier," Parnish declared with a touch of impatience. "Servants are necessary to my comforts, and as such are a worthwhile investment of my money. Their presence is 'profitable,' in a word. However, the gossip and innuendo—not to mention the simple wasting of time—that results from servants who spend their time gabbing instead of working creates a clear impediment to that profitability. A debit, or loss, if you will. You will find that I have many rules designed to insure just such efficiency."
I'm sure you do. I didn't voice the sarcastic response, but I was getting pretty tired of hearing about Parnish and his rules.
"We get to talk, though?" Badswell asked, scowling suspiciously. He had fidgeted through a fitting by no fewer than three tailors, and his temper was clearly foul.
"Of course. You're guests. In fact, allow me to provide a tour of your accommodations."
"You will find them delightful," Rathentweed repeated, nodding his head and setting that pointed beard and ridiculous nose to bouncing again. He bustled ahead and opened the door with a flourish. "Everything here has its place—a very comfortable situation."
"We will begin with the library." Parnish preceded us through several wide corridors, stopping at a pair of large oaken doors that terminated the hallway. With a single soft knock, he touched the wooden panels, and both heavy doors swung silently inward. He repeated the magical command he had uttered in the sitting room—it sounded something like illictus—and four crystal chandeliers blossomed into white light.
We followed the wizard into a massive room, outlined in an apparently perfect square. A walkway of carpeting led straight across the floor and was intersected halfway through the room by a perpendicular strip; the flooring served to divide the library into four even quarters. Each of these was illuminated by its own chandelier and contained a large, square table flanked by sixteen chairs.
The walls of the room were lined with many shelves, though the wooden frameworks were interrupted in a number of places—sixteen, I realized almost instinctively. In each of these niches between the shelving, a single oil painting was prominently displayed. Even from a distance, I could see that the works were of exceptional quality, tending to portray vast scenes of landscape, battle, or council.
My curiosity was aroused in spite of myself, but before I could start across to the nearest painting, the sound of a deep chime rang through the manor.
"It's noon!" Rathentweed declared excitedly. "Time to change out of our morning attire." He looked at us, his chubby cheeks pouting in a frown of exaggerated concern. "But your clothes aren't ready yet!" he squeaked.
"These'll do for another few hours," I snorted, not sure whether I was amused or annoyed by his officious manner.
"Rathentweed is right." The wizard spoke, and there was no trace of humor in his bearing or his voice. Instead, he glowered unpleasantly, and I bit back more sarcastic remarks. "I have forgiven your breach for the morning, but I was hoping that would be the only time."
Parnish drew a deep breath, as if he were reluctantly arriving at a very painful conclusion. "However, the rules require some sort of clothing—nudity would be an even greater affront. Since these are what you have, you will wear them until your new clothes are prepared."
"I shall change immediately, my lord," declared Rathentweed, making a deep bow, then sniffing contemptuously as he bustled from the library.
"Where did you get these paintings?" I asked, trying to draw the wizard's attention back to his earlier topic.
"I painted them," he declared. "They are benchmarks in a great strife, a conflict that has been waged since the dawn of time."
Apparently I was onto something. Parnish turned with animation toward the nearest piece of artwork, a battle scene that had caught my eye as soon as I had seen it. I walked over to the canvas. Unconsciously my pace slowed as I drew near. The strident colors and vivid sense of motion visible from a distance had not prepared me for the graphic and horrifying detail of the painting viewed up close. I shuddered at an unspeakably monstrous image in the center of the scene, instantly pulling back to observe the piece as a whole.
The artist had captured a battle in a moment of furious, savage climax. I recognized a host of spyder-fiends, the arachnoid horrors swarming in countless hundreds around their monstrous leader, the grotesque giant that had so deeply affected me upon my fi
rst look at the painting. The beast resembled a monstrous version of the spyder-fiends, but towered over the lesser monsters in an even more terrifying aspect. The huge monster had three heads, with a humanlike face in the center, flanked by a pair of sleek, lupine snouts. The visage of the man-head was upraised, as handsome and aloof as any proud king, except for the light of cruelty that the painter had somehow captured in the wide, staring eyes.
Each of the wolf-heads loomed massive and evil, with a maw large enough to engulf a kakkuu in a single bite. White fangs gleamed in the long jaws, and I saw that one of the heads had seized a victim in its fangs. The naked, manlike corpse, ebony black in color, drooped lifelessly, blood trailing in slick rivers down its back as the monster crushed the life from it.
Only then did I look at the forces arrayed against the arachnoid horde. They were tall warriors, similar in appearance to the bleeding corpse in the monster's maw, naked and handsome and dark-skinned. Despite their nudity, I couldn't tell if they were men nor women; they lacked the features of either sex. Savage and determined fighters, they stood in close ranks against the swarm of tanar'ri, bearing swords and spears of keen, gleaming steel.
A series of whirlwinds, like small tornadoes, formed a backdrop to this valiant army. Staring at the motionless images in the picture, I could clearly sense the tension of an imminent charge, and I realized that the funnel clouds were in fact chariots, vehicles of spiraling wind that stood ready to bear the tall warriors forward to victory or death.
"You have a perceptive eye," Parnish declared, having stepped unnoticed behind me. "This is perhaps my finest work, a painting that cost me dearly to create."
"What is the scene?" I asked, mesmerized. Each second brought new details to my eye. There was a kakkuu, spitted upon the spear of one of the black, manlike defenders; here a band of the warriors stood in a ring, holding against a pressing circle of merciless jaws.
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