He readied the wand to fire off more missiles, but the last of the efreeti's form slipped beneath the door and escaped.
"Damn it to the Nine Hells!" Vhok swore. He slumped against the wall and closed his eyes to try to get the chamber to stop spinning.
"Here," Zasian said, stepping over to the cambion. "A little healing. Sorry I wasn't faster," he added. He placed his hands upon Vhok's head and said a prayer.
Vhok felt the soothing magic flow into him and dissolve the pain pounding behind his eyes. When Zasian finished the ritual, Vhok waved the priest's apology away. "We both let down our guard. He'll pay," the half-fiend promised, rising to his feet. "But we've got to catch up to him, first."
Zasian grabbed the handle of the door and yanked hard. "Definitely locked," he said.
"Fortunately," the cambion said, "I have just the magic to solve this little problem." He muttered an arcane word, and the bolt in the lock clicked.
The Banite pulled on the handle and the door swung open easily. The duo braced themselves for an attack, but none came.
As Zasian swung the door wider, they could see a massive, smoke- and flame-filled warehouse beyond. The doorway led onto a rocky platform near the ceiling of a vast, open space. Vhok realized that the room before them was cut into the mountain, beneath the tower. Instead of brass construction, everything was glowing, popping stone. Fumaroles along the sides of the chamber vented hissing, foul-smelling gases. Jets of fire spewed from cracks and holes like the magical flames from a wizard's hands. The entire warehouse chamber shimmered from the undulating heat and rising smoke.
A caravan of great bronze-colored wagons filled most of the floor of the warehouse. Wide and flat, the wagons held stacked molds filled with still-cooling glass items. Vhok realized the efreet would not unpack the molds until the wagons reached their destination, in order to minimize breakage. Large beasts of burden, vaguely similar to blazing rothe, were hitched to the wagons. It appeared as though the caravan would be departing soon.
"There," Zasian said, pointing.
Vhok peered in the direction the priest indicated and spotted a wispy vapor moving against the updrafts in the room. It was headed toward a congregation of efreet who had gathered near a pair of huge bronze doors at the front of the chamber. They seemed to be in the midst of a jovial discussion. They loomed over the handful of manacled azer working at their feet, but one stood a head above the rest.
The cloud of wispy white swirled close and transformed. Vhok recognized Amak the moment he materialized. The efreeti bowed low to his imposing counterpart and began animatedly talking and pointing toward the door where Vhok and Zasian stood.
The larger efreeti, whom Vhok suspected was Hafiz the overseer, looked up and spotted the two interlopers. Anger contorted his expression. The cambion saw him reach for the massive falchion tucked into his sash as the others around him did the same. The overseer pointed and gave harsh commands, and the rest of the efreet spread out, moving toward the duo. A few remained behind, cracking whips at the azer to keep the slaves working.
On impulse, Vhok raised his arm and gave a friendly wave. Then he turned to Zasian. "Let's go meet him," he said. "Win him over. That's why we're here, right?"
The priest gave Vhok a bemused smile, mildly surprised at the suggestion. "All right," he said at last. "It just might work."
Vhok slipped Burnblood into its sheath and considered how best to reach the floor of the warehouse. A narrow set of steep steps cut into the natural stone wall descended toward the ground level. The staircase and the wall next to it cooked the air with their heat and fire.
"Meet you at the bottom," the cambion said, and leaped over the end of the rocky platform. He channeled his innate magic, floating down to the floor at a casual pace. When he settled his feet on the ground, he strolled toward the efreet, who were stalking toward him menacingly.
Hafiz led the pack. Bare-chested, he looked fierce and angry. He had adorned himself with brass jewelry, necklaces and earrings, and a set of bracers on his thick, muscular wrists. The horns jutting from his furrowed, demonic forehead were slightly lighter in color than his deep red skin, as were the tusks protruding from his mouth. He did not look in a mood to parley, but Vhok maintained his air of calm and casual friendliness.
"Greetings, O exalted Hafiz!" he called out, waving again. "My companion and I"-and the cambion jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward Zasian, who had taken the stairs-"come before you today as weary travelers seeking your aid. I pray we can offer you some mutual benefit in exchange, hmm?"
Hafiz, taken aback slightly by Vhok's disarming smile and words, drew up a few paces from the cambion. He turned his falchion point down and leaned against the pommel as he studied the half-fiend. The other efreet fanned out to form a semicircle around Vhok. Zasian joined his companion and offered a bow before the overseer.
"Who sent you here?" Hafiz demanded, his voice even deeper and more rumbling than Amak's had been.
"No one," Vhok said. "Well, that's not entirely true. A foolish azer clan lord showed us where this magnificent mine was, and asked us to rid it of your presence, but we thought better of such nonsense and came instead to pay homage and negotiate some assistance."
At the mention of the azer, Hafiz bristled. A deep growl issued from him and his eyes glittered. The other efreet reacted similarly. "You are pawns of the azer?" the overseer said. "They think they can send two puny outlanders to slay us? That is rich!" The efreeti laughed, a thunderous, echoing sound. He leaned back, guffawing heartily.
Vhok maintained his smile, but he seethed at such disrespect. Puny, indeed, he thought.
When Hafiz regained his composure, Vhok continued. "Our thoughts exactly," he said. "Obviously, we offer you notice of their presence in the mountains overlooking this mine. If you wish to capture them, that is your concern. We, however, must reach the City of Brass as quickly as possible, and thought perhaps we might offer ourselves as guards for your next caravan heading to that august city."
Hafiz eyed the cambion with a smirk. "You wish to go to the City of Brass?" he said. "How excellent. I have just promised my brother a new shipment of exotic slaves for his amusement." To the other efreet gathered around, he said, "Seize them."
Aliisza wanted to scream. Just die already! she thought. Choke, or cut your own head off, or drown in your soup kettle. Whatever you do, get out of my head!
But the old woman didn't react. She took another hack at the log, trying in vain to split it. Another feeble attempt, and the log skittered away again. Aliisza tried to turn her back on the scene. She could still feel it going on. The elderly man, standing in his soldier's uniform, bow slung across his back. She felt him watching the woman, the tears welling in his eyes.
She hated them both.
She felt his pain.
The alu forced the image to fade. Instead of the garden at night, though, she found herself inside the tailor's shop. The girl with the apron appeared in the back doorway. Master Velsin stared at her in anger and sent her to the private room, where she would spend the day half-naked in front of lascivious men who ogled her and pawed at her body and worse.
No! Not this again, Aliisza groaned. Enough!
The alu jerked her sword free and tried to slice the girl's head from her neck. The blade passed right through the image. The girl never reacted. She slowly, inexorably made her way into the dim room and began to disrobe. Aliisza tried to hack at the girl, the dresses, the lecherous Yrudis Gregan. The scene never changed, never wavered.
Aliisza flung her sword away and forced the image to fade.
She saw no garden, only the temple of Ilmater. A young woman, face beaming, prayed to her new god, thumbs pink and fresh. Aliisza summoned a magical ball of flame. She tried to blast the girl, the temple, scorch it and burn it to the ground.