Up close, Groag Hall (at least, that's what the carving along the granite frieze announced) looked like three or four architectural styles that had not really merged, but collided in the dead of night at some unmarked crossroads. Parts of the old gray stone front remained, but this was bolstered by a white granite colonnade in the High Istar style. Some glasswork of the Hopsloth period survived, ornamented by a set of needlelike spires that rivaled Silvanesti. A dome hung over the center building like a crystalline turtle glued to the roof.
Ugly as sin, Toede thought, and definitely an improvement.
The broad steps, replaced after Jugger's ruinous charge, were some type of tinted concrete, but made of shoddy material and already flaking.
The original doors were still present, and Toede pulled them open, expecting Groag's honor guard to be waiting for him. Instead, nothing happened, and Toede wandered into the entry hall.
The hall was a suitable restoration of the original, complete with balcony and stairs winged to each side, framing the large iron doors of the central court. Groag must have had it rebuilt.
Still no one, not even a zombie.
Toede pulled open the last doors, the heavy iron ones (apparently pulled from wherever Hopsloth's priests had stashed them). The audience hall was similar to the one Toede had presided over. The furnishings were as rich, at least, and dominated by a great handwoven rug in the center, directly before the throne. The only major change was the dome above that cast a wide circular pool of light on the rug. For the first time the brightness made Toede aware that it was nearly midday.
On the far side of the light, a small figure was bunched up on the throne. "'Lo, Toede," said a familiar, small voice.
"'Lo, Groag," said the former highmaster. "How's tricks?"
A deep sigh came from the shadows. Lord Groag leaned forward. Toede saw that his former lackey's face was now lined and careworn, his form nearly skeletal, and his eyes bloodshot. Such an appearance cheered Toede tremendously.
"So it comes to this." Groag motioned weakly. "Come forward. We need to discuss what happens next."
Toede took two steps forward, to the edge of the hand-woven rug. Then he hefted the axe painfully in his left hand. "As a sign of goodwill, I leave my most dangerous weapon behind." And he threw it on the rug.
The axe and the rug both vanished as the trapdoor beneath flung open. Toede heard a splash.
He tilted an eyebrow and circled the pit. "A for effort," he said.
"F for phooey," responded Groag sulkily, and settled back into the shadows.
"Sharks?"
"Crocodiles," said Groag. "Give me credit for some imagination."
But not much, thought Toede. Instead he said, "We're alone?"
Groag nodded. "When word spread that the undead were attacking from the north, that our ally the necromancer had double-crossed us, the loyalest of the loyal headed to battle, while the bulk headed for the docks. But the captain goes down with his ship."
"That's a myth put out by those who are not captains," said Toede. "And the necromancer did not double-cross you so much as double-cross everyone. He's on nobody's side but his own. He hoped to turn Flotsam into a necropolis, a city of the dead."
Groag leaned forward. For a moment Toede thought the smaller hobgoblin was going to take a leap into the pit. Instead, the lord of the manor rocked back and forth, sobbing. "I tried so hard!"
"Sometimes effort isn't enough," said Toede coolly, circling around the pit, his sword poised. "Remember how hard I tried, the first time, only to be laughed at and goaded?" He was three steps away from a sword thrust good enough to end Groag's whining once and for all. Two steps. One step.
"Would it help if I said I was sorry?" asked Groag suddenly.
"Pardon?" said Toede, staying his hand for the moment. "About leaving you in the hole," sobbed Groag. "And exploiting your name to take over Flotsam. I'm sorry. I mean it. I was angry at you for deserting me, and wanted to hurt you. Badly. And then that vision, that angel in blue, appeared and told me of my destiny. I thought I finally had been recognized for my own ability. Of course after I made it to the top, that dratted book turned up, and I was afraid you'd come back early and were planning to have me killed. I cut all these deals and plotted with the necromancer and hired mercenaries and now everyone is going to die, and it's all my fault."
Pity touched Toede's heart, pity that Groag, a natural follower, had made the mistake of seizing leadership. Perhaps it would be better to let him live, to just let him leave. Still, that would make Groag a live enemy, as opposed to a dead martyr. "I…" He hesitated for a moment, then continued, "I don't think it's entirely your fault."
Groag was silent. "I suppose you want your chair back."
Toede heard the groaning of iron hinges and cast a glance back toward the door. "I think we'll have to put that off," he said, "at least for a little while."
The doors had swung backward to reveal a dozen shambling forms: gnoll, human, and kender. Rogate had been too late to spread the warning. The necromancer's spell had already spread through the city. The undead had multiplied, were everywhere.
Groag's eyes widened as he saw the necromancer's minions shuffle forward. "Know of any good miracles, Lord Toede?"
Toede hefted his sword. He wondered how long he could last in combat before his damaged rib slid into his lung. "I'm fresh out, Lord Groag," said Toede. "Wish I had one handy."
That was when the lightning struck, and she appeared, floating in a ball of brilliant light. Her flesh was mirrored silver, and she was carrying a blade so dark it hurt to gaze at its ebony blackness. Her hair was the color of flaming blood; her eyes gleamed. Toede, Groag, and even the zombies had to shield their eyes from her feral appearance.
The world held its breath. Judith had arrived in Ansa-lon.
"When will you learn," Toede heard Groag say, "to stop saying things like that?"
Chapter 26
"I am Judith," said the silvery figure in a booming tone that caused the glass walls and dome to vibrate. "Lieutenant and servant to her Dark Ladyship, Takhisis. Let all who witness me quake in peril!"
The hell-maiden spun, regarding the two figures by the throne with an icy glare. Words dripped like acid from her lips. "Where is the one named Toede?"
Toede wanted to point to Groag, but his wounded arm stopped him. Groag in the meantime had pointed at Toede, and taken two polite steps back.
Toede sighed, meekly stepping forward. "I… am…" He cleared his voice and tried again. "I am Toede."
Judith regarded the hobgoblin crossly. "Are you not supposed to be dead?"
Toede nodded. "I tried, but it wouldn't take." He managed a weak smile that withered under the hell-maiden's glare like a fresh posie tossed into a maelstrom. She looked insulted at the very idea that anyone would dare to jest in her presence.
One of the zombies behind Judith tried to lunge at her, only to pass through the multicolored sphere surrounding her and disintegrate into myriad pieces.
Judith seemed to take notice of the undead for the first time at that point, and waved a hand dismissively. The zombies exploded. Not with a roar of fury and streaming of rotted intestines, but with large holes erupting from their chests and soft puffs of air that sounded like popcorn roasting over a fire. The zombies slumped silently to the floor.