Tauran sighed. "Do you really believe that?" he asked, his voice faint, perhaps defeated. "Truly?"
Aliisza smiled. He finally understands, she thought. He cannot change me. "I believe it as surely as I believe you keep me here not because you want me to know love and compassion, but because you are afraid of what I will take from you when I am free."
"Then I guess there's no real reason to tell you that you have a son," the deva said.
Aliisza felt a shiver pass through her. A son? I have a son!
"Can I see him?" she asked, eager. "Would you show him to me?" She pointed at the fountain.
Tauran stared at her for a long time before speaking. "No," he said at last. "Not yet."
Aliisza felt anger flush her cheeks. "Why not?" she demanded. She crossed the open space to where he sat, intent on confronting him, though she knew she could not physically affect him in any way. Neither of them were truly there, in that garden of illusion. "Why won't you show me my son?" she asked, her voice much softer, more pleading than she had intended.
"Because," the angel replied, "he is nothing more than a weak, mewling thing, something for you to use as a stepping stone to true power."
Aliisza opened her mouth to retort, but she had no words. What he said was true. She couldn't both love her son and see him as a means to an end. The two could not be reconciled.
Tauran stood. "I think you finally understand," he said. "You're right-I cannot change you. I never meant to try. You, and only you, can change yourself."
"I don't want to change!" she whispered fiercely. "What you show me is nothing but pain and sorrow and loneliness! How can people want that? They never deal from a position of strength! They never have the ability to take what they want! How can that be better than being strong, independent, powerful? How can succumbing to silly romantic notions be preferable to steeling yourself against all those who would take from you?"
"I will come to you again," the angel replied, "when I sense that you know the answer to that question yourself."
"Don't go," she said. It was the first time she had asked him to stay. "Don't leave me here."
He smiled softly then and reached out to stroke her hair, her cheek. It wasn't an amorous touch, not filled with the heat of passion and arousal. It was gentle and kind, a touch of compassion and love. "Exactly," he said.
Watching the angel vanish was the hardest thing Aliisza had ever done.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"There," Lakataki said. The azer who had originally accosted Vhok and Zasian pointed down into the valley far below them. The cambion peered where the fire-dwarf indicated and spied the efreet's mine. A great wall of shiny brass, pierced by a gate and protected by towers at regular intervals, surrounded a pit dug into the slope of a mountain. The molten glow of magma shone from within that pit. The only feature that jutted up from the interior that the half-fiend could see was a spindly, peculiarly shaped tower. Everything else was hidden. The whole scene shimmered and wavered, distorted by the heat that permeated the plane.
"What do they mine?" Zasian asked, staring alongside Vhok. The priest seemed impressed with the sight.
"Liquid glass," Lakataki replied. "It spills out of the ground there, just bubbles up to the surface. They gather it and pour it into molds right there within the fortress, before it cools. It's the purest, clearest glass anywhere," he said, but his tone was more bitter than proud.
"And the efreet make their slaves work the mine," Vhok said. "Members of your clan are down there."
"Yes," the azer said. "But more importantly, it used to be ours. The efreet came and stole it from us, captured or killed many and drove off the rest. We want it back."
"Where does the glass go after it is molded?" Zasian asked. He still stared raptly at the mine.
"Caravans take it to the City of Brass, where it is sold," Lakataki answered. "Merchants from every part of the multi-verse bid for glass that pure.".
"How many efreet are there?" Vhok asked. "How many should we expect to deal with?"
The azer sergeant shrugged. "Perhaps a dozen," he said. "Maybe twice that many live within the fortress, but half of them are usually away, raiding for more slaves to work the mine. Most of them are just cruel and greedy. There is one, though, the overseer. He is very clever. Hafiz al-Milhab. You must be wary of him. He is a giant even among his own kind."
"And how many slaves?"
"Perhaps a hundred, maybe more," Lakataki said. "Not all are azer. The efreet bring slaves of all types who are suitable to work the mine. Not all of them will thank you for their freedom, outlander," the fire-dwarf warned.
Vhok grunted in acknowledgment. That's going to be the least of our problems, the cambion thought.
"We will wait for you here," Lakataki said. "As Lord Cripakolus promised, if you free the slaves and return our mine to us, we will provide you with a guide to the City of Brass. Though why such sensible beings as yourselves would want to go there is beyond me," he muttered, half to himself.
With no reason to delay, Vhok and Zasian prepared to set out. The route down to the valley was steep and there was no trail from their vantage point, so Zasian performed his divine magic, granting both of them the ability to walk on air, as they had done the day before. Together, they descended. The pair kept their route close to the mountain, not wishing to have another unpleasant encounter with flying things that might mistake them for a meal.
The clan lord, Cripakolus, had been adamant. The two travelers were ordered to aid his clan in recapturing their prized mine and freeing the azer enslaved there. He had refused to even entertain the thought of releasing his two visitors, much less providing them a guide anywhere, until they had agreed. The duo were, in effect, his prisoners.
Of course, the azer lord had couched it in far different terms. He had told Vhok and Zasian that he could not in good conscience let honored guests roam the open plains beyond his mountain range while such dangers as efreeti slavers existed. The only way to ensure safe passage, he argued, was to eliminate the threat at its source.
Never mind that we're going to face them all at once, in their own territory, Vhok thought wryly.
After the half-fiend and priest agreed to the leader's terms, the azer held a great feast in their honor. It became apparent soon enough that none of the fire-dwarves expected the two to return from their rescue mission. The majority opinion among the azer was that the force of efreet was far too strong to be ousted by only two.
Vhok and Zasian had to provide their own food-nothing the azer consumed was of a temperature suitable for them-but they did sleep in relative comfort overnight. The shaman of the clan was able to create a chamber cool enough by enchanting a milky white sphere around it that kept out most of the heat.
After an equally festive breakfast with Cripakolus, the cambion and the priest were led outside, through a different cavern, to the back side of the mountains. There, Lakataki had taken them to the vantage point. From that point on, they would be on their own.
"Not very bright of them to just let us walk off," Zasian remarked as they worked their way down the mountain. Walking upon the air, even at the steep angle they chose, offered the decided advantage of being able to bypass the crystalline trees that peppered the slopes. "They didn't really dangle much incentive for us to return," he added.
"I see no reason to," Vhok said. "The foolish sergeant admitted that caravans travel to the City of Brass to sell the glass. I think we can figure out a way to go the same direction," he suggested, chuckling.
"It makes me wonder which of us had the more realistic expectation. Is Ctipakolus that foolish, or did he bait us into departing, figuring he got two bags of gems out of the deal, if nothing else?"