13.4

Zyrdicia disintegrated the instant Dirk touched her. Her eerie laughter echoed through the mist-filled space. She materialized behind him a second later, still laughing. Her long, black wings fluttered, lifting her body into the air before he could catch her. When he reached his arms up to grab at her, he lost his footing. The mist had concealed the edge of a great chasm. As he fell into the abyss, he looked upward to see her angelic form hovering in the air, watching him fall.

The dream ended abruptly. A sharp, jabbing sensation in his neck stirred Dirk out of unconsciousness. Disoriented, he reached up instinctively to grab the offending implement. His hand closed around a frail wrist. When he opened his eyes, he saw it held some sort of thin metal rod against the side of his neck. He jerked the wrist upward harshly, his grip tightening.

At that moment he discovered he was lying on the floor of some sort of cage. A thin, sickly-looking man was reaching through the bars to poke him with the rod in an effort to wake him up. Dirk yanked the man's arm far into the cage and twisted it around the bars. "Let me out this instant or I will break your arm in more places than you can count," he growled.

"No, no, no!" the man whimpered. He twisted his hand slightly so that the rod touched Dirk's hand. A blast of electricity from the device suddenly sent the prince sprawling against the opposite wall of bars.

Dirk reached inside his armor for the monocle. It was gone. All of his weapons were gone.

The little man placed the rod in a pocket and then pressed the palms of his hands together before his lips. His sallow skin looked pock-marked and seemed to sag upon his bones. He stared at his captive with pale, watery eyes. "Hmm. Yes, you are a dangerous one. Hmm. A friend of hers would have to be. Hmm." The man walked awkwardly around the cage. He shuffled somewhat like a duck. He pulled the rod from his pocket again and shook it menacingly, "No more nasties from you now! Hmm."

Dirk stared at the strange man in disbelief. He could have throttled the coward with one hand, were he within reach. "Who are you?" he whispered, his tone lined with hatred.

The man bowed gracelessly, then pressed his palms together vertically once again. The gesture seemed compulsive. "Nevvert is my name. You are my captive. Hmm. Since you are the one from the interview, I have to use you as bait to get her. Hmm."

Dirk remembered suddenly that Vector had mentioned an affinity for this cretin. The monocle's absence now concerned him greatly. "Bait for whom?" Dirk asked calmly.

"Zyrdicia." The little man sighed her name as though it were the most beautiful word in his language.

"And who, pray tell, is that?"

"You know her!" Nevvert stamped his foot angrily. "You know her! Hmm. You are the one from the interview. Hmm."

"I've no idea what you are talking about."

The sound of a loud chime distracted Nevvert. He smiled broadly. He clapped his palms together a few times in excitement before he shuffled toward one of the room's large doors. He opened it and escorted the Assassin Guildmaster into the room. "Magnus. Hmm. Very good to see you. Yes, yes, yes. Very good. Hmm."

Magnus glanced at the cage curiously. It was the first time he had seen the prince since the incident in which Balthus had been needed to get Zyrdicia out of Castle Greystone. Dirk met his gaze and dreaded the inevitable confirmation of his identity that he expected would follow.

Magnus asked Nevvert, "Are you collecting live ones to keep around and kill so that you don't run out of corpses?"

Nevvert stamped his foot angrily again. "No, no, no! He is bait for getting Zyrdicia!"

Magnus laughed, "Bait? You've spent too much time sniffing embalming fluid, my friend. She doesn't go for mortal men. Can you summon a Sephiroth? She tells me wings turn her on."

"No, no, no! He is the one from the interview. Hmm. Nevvert is very clever. Hmm."

"She made up the crap in the interview, Nevvert. It was a story. She always lies to the tabloids. She wasn't even in that place she described. She was in the Tamerlin Jungles hunting the whole time. She hates cold places. She would have never gone to a storm-swept wasteland."

"No, no, no! But her servant said on the street that this was the one from the interview! Hmm."

"To get attention, no doubt. He also sometimes dresses up and claims he's a woman. You shouldn't believe everything you hear from him."

Nevvert pressed his palms together and looked around nervously. He shuffled to a shadowy corner of the room. He stared at something on the wall and seemed to whimper. "No, no, no! But we need bait to get her. Hmm."

Magnus walked over, straining to see what he was staring at. His eyes widened suddenly. "You must have every picture of her ever published glued to this wall," he gasped. He stared at the odd man, stifling a laugh. "A little obsessed?"

"Yes, yes, yes. Every one. All pictures of her. Hmm. Lots of pictures. Lots and lots. Tired of pictures. Can you do a contract without bait? Hmm."

"A contract? You want to buy a contract with the Guild to kill Zyrdicia?" Magnus asked carefully.

"Yes. Must be dead. Very dead. Hmm. But no bait. Hmm."

Magnus sighed, "You are aware what a difficult situation this puts me in."

"Yes, yes, yes. Very difficult. Hmm. Your Council position says you have a duty first to the Guild. Hmm. Maybe friends need no bait. Hmm."

"Yeah, maybe. Do you have any idea how expensive this will be for you?"

"Hmm. Nevvert has lots of money. Lots and lots of money. Nevvert has saved for this for many years. Ten million plats to do this. Hmm."

Magnus nodded slowly, "The sum is sufficient. When do you want it done?" His voice sounded sad.

"Tonight! Hmm. Very soon. No more patience. Hmm. But it must be done right."

"What are you talking about?"

"No marks on the body. Hmm. No wounds. Body must be perfect. Hmm. Yes, yes, yes! Perfect." He pressed his palms together again and inhaled loudly, envisioning it.

"Fine. I will do it as soon as you transfer the plats to the Harbor Bank for escrow. They have a night agent there who will accept it for me. If you can get the money in tonight, I will bring you her corpse before dawn."

"Very easy! Very easy!" the little man clapped and jumped up and down. "Before dawn. Yes, yes, yes. Hmm."

Magnus' expression was very somber as he left. He noticed the captive in the cage watching him, but said nothing.

Nevvert shuffled out of the room immediately after the assassin left, forgetting about the man in the cage altogether. He returned several hours later, chattering to himself excitedly. "Almost dawn. Yes, yes, yes. Very soon. Hmm."

"Since I am of no value to you, you can release me now. It was clearly just an unfortunate mistake," Dirk called out in a friendly tone.

Nevvert looked up, surprised to hear another voice in the room. "Not yet. Assassin Guildmaster lies much. Hmm. If he brings no corpse, we may need bait still. Hmm."

"You've no need of the assassin. Perhaps we could strike a bargain for her, whoever she is. I could deliver her to you if you let me out and return my belongings to me."

Nevvert stared nervously at Dirk. He pressed his hands together before his lips, pondering the offer. "Clever one. Yes, very clever. Hmm. Maybe useful. Yes, yes, yes," he said before exiting the room.

13.4.1

The chime rang again several hours later. Nevvert half skipped and half stumbled to the door. Magnus entered then carrying Zyrdicia's limp body. Dirk gasped involuntarily at the sight of it. The demon messenger's words echoed in his head. He would never see another victory if she did not return to Aparans. Her death could mean the demons would prevent him from taking what was rightfully his. He cursed her silently for daring to die before his plans had been brought to fruition, for drawing him into her war in Hell. As he stared at her corpse, he felt an unwelcome and altogether unexpected sense of distress.

The prince wondered whether this were still a dream somehow. Her death was as inconceivable to him as being captive in this strange city. He was angry at her, and wanted to give that anger expression, to see her contrite, to hear her beg for his forgiveness. Beyond that, he wanted her back in Castle Blackpool, acting as devoted to him as she had been just prior to her departure. These meddlers had just robbed him of the opportunity for any of that. If anyone was ever going to kill her, by all rights, it should have been him. No one else had a right to harm that which belonged to him.

Nevvert pressed his bony fingers to her throat, looking for a pulse. Finding none, he giggled and clapped his hands. He then set about running his fingers quickly through the silken cascade of raven hair that hung from her lifeless body.

"She's fucking dead, you ghoul. You don't have to gloat!" Magnus snarled.

"Bring her in here. Hmm. Yes, yes, yes. All prepared for her. This room. Hmm," Nevvert gestured to an open doorway.

Magnus entered it and set the corpse gently onto a pile of cushions neatly arranged on the floor within a ring of white candles. He bent down and kissed the corpse's forehead sadly. "I'm sorry," he said softly, caressing her cheek one last time.

"I'll let myself out," Magnus muttered, leaving the room as quickly as he could. He looked disturbed by the scene as he glanced back through the doorway. He pulled the door shut.

His expression changed immediately when he saw the man in the cage staring at him. Magnus started to say something then stopped, listening to the sounds on the other side of the door. He decided to remain silent, smiling mischievously instead.

"I will kill you, of that you can be quite certain," Dirk said evenly.

Magnus frowned and put his finger to his lips, signaling for silence. He gestured to the doorway that concealed Nevvert. He seemed to be listening for something. A loud giggle of delight from the room was immediately followed by a deathly scream. A moment later a loud fizzing sound was the last noise to precede silence.

Magnus clapped his hands silently in imitation of Nevvert. "Yes, yes, yes! You are dead, you disgusting, little fuck," he smiled, opening the door to the room. He leaned in the doorway and glanced inside. His smile changed to a sneer. He looked at the prince in the cage and asked, "Do you have a strong stomach? Zyrdicia's sense of humor is pretty gruesome."

Dirk stared at him, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

Magnus looked at him carefully. "You did know that wasn't her, I hope?"

"Wasn't it?"

"We knew he was going to try to do this. A few days ago Zyrdicia transformed a she-dwarf corpse to look like herself and stored her in nether space for me. She filled the corpse with a pretty amazing magical poison. It melted him from the point of contact on upward," he explained amiably. "Not a pleasant way to die. Unless you count the fact that he died happy." Magnus sat down in a chair a short distance from the cage, staring at Dirk thoughtfully. He was not at all happy to see the prince in Lyr. Every instinct he had told him to kill the foreigner. He hated the need to play this game. He had no choice. "Are you in love with her?" he asked curiously.

"What?"

"You came here to get her back obviously. So do you love her?"

Dirk stared at the assassin in shock. He said nothing,

Magnus continued very seriously, "The problem is that I do. I always have. I would pull my heart out and hand it to her if she asked me to."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I want you to understand how very protective I am of her. She's terribly fragile right now. If you were to try to take advantage of that - or to try to hurt her - you would have to die." Magnus paused, regarding the other man. He watched to see whether the bait had any effect. He continued, his brow furrowed, "Unfortunately, because I care about her as much as I do, I have to get her out of Lyr. If she stays here, she will self-destruct and take out half the cosmos with her. She is already pretty far down that road. Portia tells me that until the fiasco with Baal happened, the killing in your world kept her manic and distracted."

Not just the killing, Dirk thought to himself. He was losing his patience with this conversation rapidly. He wanted out of the blasted cage. He wanted to find her and get out of this hellish city.

Magnus continued, "So although it galls me, I have to help Portia get her back to your world or watch her destroy herself in mine. And I can't do that. So we have to use you to distract her."

"Then take me to her, and she can return with me at once."

"Not so fast. She has been through a lot. There are a few ground rules I think you have to understand."

Dirk groaned softly in frustration. This was unbearable.

"First, if she tries to convince you to help her get pregnant, don't. It's an impossible plot she has to trigger some magic that will kill Azriok and, for all we know, herself in the process. Know that she is less than sane if she brings the idea up, and just say no."

Dirk glared at the assassin, unable to believe he was having this conversation.

"Second, no more shit like the volcano. She should kill within her natural limits only. Don't encourage her deity impersonations! Eventually she starts to believe them. Then she gets crazy ideas about omnipotence that could end up getting her killed. Third, when she's had a bad day - like when demons come to visit - don't yell at her. That was really fucking stupid. On a related note, she may be a terrifying killer and an icy bitch sometimes, but when all is said and done, she loves to be held and to cuddle, especially when she falls asleep. Even if you don't love her, do it anyway. Something about mortal touch keeps her anchored in this world."

"You advice is intriguing. Really. Are you quite finished?"

"Not quite. For whatever reason, she let you get near the part of herself she reserves for Azriok. He is trying very hard to get her to come back to him. She already left you once to go to him. Don't give her a reason to again!" Magnus eyes held those of the man in the cage. He broke the tension with a friendly smile. "Do you know where he kept the key?"

"Of course not.'

"It would probably be in his pocket. I'm not going after it. Fucking disgusting." Magnus pulled a thin, silver tool from a pocket and inserted it into the large padlock holding the cage shut. He opened the lock in mere seconds. "I will take you to see her now. But you really ought to see what she did to Nevvert. You'll probably never see anything like it again," Magnus urged.

Dirk walked the few steps to the doorway and grimaced at the sight. A diminutive, bearded corpse looked as though it had already been violated. All that remained of Nevvert was a foul-smelling pile of goo upon the floor. This looked very much like something Zyrdicia would have arranged. "I need to find my weapons," Dirk noted.

"He was a magic practitioner. They'll be stashed in nether space somewhere. Forget it."

"I cannot leave without them!"

"We have no way of getting to them right now," Magnus said calmly. "Zyrdicia will be able to retrieve them."

"Did she send you to free me?" he wondered suspiciously.

Magnus shook his head and answered, "She doesn't know you are here yet. Portia found out you were here last night, and told me you had disappeared. I assumed we would have to go looking for you eventually. I didn't expect to find you here though."

"Why didn't you tell Zyrdicia?"

"She has enough to worry about without having to come after you. She's too focussed on other things to be effective. Nevvert is an idiot, but even idiots get lucky sometimes. It was better to not involve her."

"How long have I been here?"

"Based on Cai's recollection of when you must have disappeared, we figure he took you out of the Cauldron about two o'clock last night. It's now maybe ten-thirty or eleven the next night."

"Speaking of which, where is my seneschal?"

Magnus grinned, "Oh, he's just fine. Portia is taking good care of him. He likes it here. Shall we go see Zyrdicia now?"

Dirk nodded, relieved this misadventure was finally nearing a conclusion. Several of Magnus' men were waiting for them outside and fell into step silently as they walked.

As they made their way through dark residential streets, Magnus explained, "Unfortunately, you aren't catching her on a particularly good night. Last night would have been a good night. She was completely plastered, and she's cute and cuddly when she's like that. This whole day, on the other hand, has been difficult."

"What happened?"

"Nothing. It's just how she is now. She's always pissy when mind-altering substances wear off. Today was just worse than usual. All day. Non-stop. She hasn't slept since-- I don't even remember when. A few days after she got back, I think."

"That was over a week ago."

"Exactly. Sleep deprivation sometimes makes her a little irritable. She has some good days. Today wasn't one of them. Even the dragon was glad to be rid of her after they danced this morning. He told her she was annoying the scales off him. It was kind of funny."

"I'm sure she did not think so."

"She doesn't much of anything is lately. She rarely laughs. Even the hoax last night with Portia and me barely got a chuckle out of her," Magnus said darkly. He watched the prince's reaction out of the corner of his eye. Cai had already told him that they had seen the display at the Cauldron.

Dirk feigned indifference now, refusing to give Magnus the satisfaction of a reaction. His face was a mask of aloof disinterest.

Sensing the hostility that seethed beneath the other man's countenance, Magnus opted to diffuse the tension by adding, "By the way, in case you wondered, that was all staged last night. She craves a lot of affection from all her friends. Especially lately. I think she misses you."

"Did she say that?" Dirk wondered, his piercing eyes boring into the assassin.

"She didn't have to. I know her. I can tell." Doing this was easily the most difficult thing Magnus had ever done. He had talked to Portia about it for several hours while they waited for Nevvert to transfer the plats to the Harbor Bank. Portia had ultimately made him understand that they would all lose Zyrdicia - probably forever - if she did not go back to Aparans for a little while. Magnus' fear of losing Zyrdicia permanently was enough to convince him to put up with letting her go temporarily. He looked at the other man and added, "I'm told you have a calming effect on her. I hope that's true."

Magnus led him down an alleyway terminating in a dead end. He touched a series of bricks in the wall in front of him and a hidden door slid open. "This way," he beckoned.

The door slid shut of its own accord behind the men. Inside, they followed a darkened passageway and descended a long flight of stairs to the city catacombs. Magnus knew the labyrinth well. He stopped at a metal door and knocked softly. Kaz opened it, nodding in greeting.

"Is she still going?" Magnus asked, concerned.

"She is on number thirteen by my count. Anthony claims its fifteen, but he can't count without a tape measure."

"Did she stop at all?"

"Not for a minute. She kills one then summons the next one without missing a beat. This makes twelve and a half hours. I don't know how she does it." Kaz glanced at Dirk. "Sorry I didn't recognize you at the Cauldron. People make up a lot of stories to get to her."

The room was a sort of viewing gallery separated from a much larger adjacent chamber by a wall of glass. Anthony sat propped up on a tall railing near the glass watching glumly. He looked bored. He had tried to go into that room once, and she had nearly killed him with a blast of hellfire. He glanced at Dirk and smiled, "Hi, princey. Welcome to the party. You looked good in the picture in tonight's paper, by the way."

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Makes you look kind of hateful, though," Anthony noted. He stood up and went to his coat and fished out a folded copy of the evening's edition of the Liar. The headline read "Jilted Ex Shows Up at Cauldron: 'I Want to See Zyrdicia!'" Below the headline they had a photograph of Dirk glowering at Charles on the street outside the establishment.

"Charles may be the stupidest fuck in the city," Magnus commented. "You are lucky it was only Nevvert who got to you. Eventually someone will link you to the arcanium, then a few thousand people will be after you at once."

"I have no intention of staying here that long," Dirk commented, tossing the newspaper aside without reading it. The city's infantile obsession with gossip was terribly annoying. It was almost like being cast against his will in a trashy play masquerading as reality. His continued participation meant breaking with almost every principle he held dear. He had expected conquest of the South to take a toll in terms of great battles and bloodshed, not vulgarity.

He noticed movement on the other side of the glass and approached it. Zyrdicia was in the other room battling some sort of creature. He realized with dismay that it bore a striking resemblance to Vulkar, an undead barbarian Vector had once summoned. It was some other demon though. She was not fighting with her magic sword. Perhaps the creature would have been immune to it. She also did not wear her mail coat for protection. In fact, she was not even wearing her enchanted belt. It looked as though she were fighting him without any magic at all. As she turned to parry a blow from the creature, Dirk was shocked to see that she was sparring with the beast blindfolded.

"Is she suicidal?" he wondered.

"No," Magnus replied. "She's in his head, seeing through his eyes. If you watch closely, she actually uses it to anticipate every move from him."

"This is madness," Dirk muttered in irritation as he went to the door that led to the other side of the glass.

"STOP!" Magnus yelled. "You could fucking get her killed if you go in there now! Her concentration is all that keeps her alive when she does this. Don't distract her! Wait until she kills him, then go in before she summons the next one!"

"The next one?"

"We have no idea how long she intends to keep this up," Magnus shrugged. He glanced at her nervously, "She's slowing down though. She's starting to look tired."

"Why is she doing it?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's just for entertainment."

"Couldn't she simply hire a trainer to spar with? This is absurd."

Magnus shook his head, "She doesn't understand the concept of non-deadly confrontation. Her mind goes into killing mode and that is all she can do."

Dirk had no choice but to wait and watch. She fought very differently without her magical toys. Her inhuman speed was undiminished, though the beast had a considerable strength advantage. Dirk could hear her taunting the creature.

"I killed you when I was ten, you ugly fuck. You are just as lame now as you were then. I called for a mighty demon, not a gremlin. You had no business responding to the summons."

"Azriok forced me to let you win when you were a child, you arrogant, little girl! I'm pleased you have given me a chance to right that injustice," the beast snarled, lunging at her.

Despite her blindness, she stepped aside agilely, her sword catching him viciously on the back when he flew past. He whirled around at her, enraged by the wound. It was only deep enough to anger him. She dropped down to avoid another sudden lunge. The demon's rage spurred him to move faster now. There was no way for her to avoid the blow this time. Surprisingly, she rolled in toward him rather than away from him. Instead of catching his blade in her flesh, her sudden proximity to him caused her to catch the full force of the blow from the pommel. Its blunt force pounded against her shoulder. Ignoring it, in a fluid motion, she then split his torso in twain from below.

The beast howled in pain, then vanished. She muttered a string of profanity, clearly displeased that he had hit her at all. She flung the sword in her hand aside angrily. Its point embedded in the far wall, well out of her reach. She sat up and leaned against the wall next to her. She removed the blindfold and tossed it aside. She scowled and leaned back against the wall at her back while she replayed it in her head. She looked weary.

13.4.1

Dirk took the opportunity to enter the room then. "Hi," he purred with a handsome smile that suggested he was certain she would be pleased to see him.

Her grim facial expression did not change. Her purple eyes seemed to rage with hellfire in the dimly lit room. Her tone was lethal as she greeted, "I didn't summon you, but as long as you are here, I'm happy to kill you too."

"You would learn more fighting me than beasts such as that, my dear."

"Damn. And I only have a blindfold. To be fair, I would also have to have both hands tied behind my back."

Dirk smirked, "As I recall, you rather enjoyed it the last time we played that particular game. Four times, or was it five that night?"

"All faked," Zyrdicia sneered. "But then you are undoubtedly used to that."

The prince shook his head disapprovingly as he regarded her. She was, indeed, in an unpleasant mood. And a lying one too, he mused silently. "You were quite convincing then. I'm sure the entire castle heard you and found you persuasive as well. Your incessant presence in my quarters and habit of denying me sleep were a nice touch. A commendable performance, really."

"I thought you might get it right eventually. No such luck. What can I say, after having a god, what was I thinking?"

"Save your venom and your lies," he countered with an air of condescension. "We can quarrel at Castle Blackpool after you've rested. You look drained."

"I'm entitled after killing thirteen major demons in as many hours," she responded irritably. "And you don't look particularly smashing right now either. When did you decide to stop shaving?"

Dirk's hand went to his chin instinctively. It was true that he had not shaven since the morning of the day he left Castle Blackpool for Lyr. He had about two days' worth of stubble on his face now. "Finding you has been rather grueling," he said quietly.

"That's your problem. I didn't invite you. I certainly don't want to see you. You should not have come," she said indifferently. She started to stand up then, wincing slightly as she leaned on the arm that had taken the impact. Dirk had never seen her wince from any pain - ever.

"Was the blow serious?" he asked, ignoring her remark. His affected smile was full of concern as he offered her his hand.

She batted it aside in annoyance and stood on her own. "Just go away! I don't have time to waste on you right now. I have more important things to tend to."

"I would hope your shoulder would be the first thing you tended to, actually," he said, looking at it closely. It was bare but for a single strap of leather. His eyes narrowed slightly. He reached up and gently pulled the strap aside. He moved his thumb slowly along her collar bone, stopping near its end at her shoulder, watching her reaction. The bone was plainly broken in several places. The breaks were large enough to be quite obvious through the skin. She flinched only ever so slightly when he touched it. She should have howled in agony. She moved as though it were a mere bruise. "The pain must be excruciating," he said, fascinated as always by her relationship with the dark sensation.

"Not really," she said, forcing his hand away with her other arm. The pain kept Baal at bay. "Don't touch me!"

"Oh, come now. Everyone else in this city apparently does," he jeered.

She scowled, "Only those I permit to. You are no longer permitted. In fact, don't look at me, or talk to me either. Leave!"

"Not yet, I'm afraid. Aren't you curious as to why I've gone to so much trouble to find you?"

"No. I don't fucking care what you want."

"Zyrdicia," Dirk crooned. "I miss you."

"Go to hell," she responded snidely. She knew him well enough to believe he was lying. The seductive tenor was lost on her ears.

"I really had no idea you had been attacked the night you left. You should have told me."

"It doesn't matter. I don't care. It has nothing to do with anything. It's none of your business."

"Isn't that the reason you are angry at me?"

She shook her head vehemently. "NO! I'm not angry. I just don't care. About you. About your war. About anyone. I just want to be left alone."

Charm was getting him nowhere. He decided to try a new tactic. "You should at least care about our agreement concerning the arcanium."

Zyrdicia stared at him in disbelief. "You are even stupider than I thought. That agreement was a game. I deceived you. It meant nothing. You meant nothing. I could have taken all the arcanium out of the mountains anytime I wanted to. You lost and didn't even notice. I stayed as long as I did because I found it entertaining, not because of a piece of a meaningless piece of paper."

Dirk inhaled deeply. She was even more irritating than he remembered. She reminded him suddenly of the insufferable harpy she had been when she had first arrived in Aparans. He tried to force himself to resist the urge to take advantage of her injury by grabbing her by the shoulders. He wanted very much to hurt her right now. He suddenly remembered the night he had confronted her in Dagonia.

"Perhaps you need to be reminded then of why it was you were so entertained," he whispered grimly as he reached for her and pulled her firmly toward him by the shoulders. His thumb pressed hard into her fractured collar bone. As he expected, she did not struggle at all. A sound very much like a whimper escaped her. He had never earned that sort of reaction before, but then he had also never played with broken bones. She was processing far more agony than he had ever dared heap upon her. He had always wondered where her pain threshold would lie, and he suspected he had finally found it. He worried that if he pushed her too far in her sleep-deprived state, she might lose consciousness.

He watched her eyes as she slowly transformed the agony. He released her unharmed shoulder and moved the hand that had been there to caress her cheek. Her body seemed to melt against him then. As was so typical of her, her head fell forward toward his shoulder, her cheek resting against his neck. A shiver ran through her. He encircled her neck with his free arm, turning his face to kiss first her cheek then her throat. The pressure on her broken bone remained constant.

Zyrdicia's eyes closed now. The viciousness seemed to drain away from her facial expression for a brief moment. Then she frowned suddenly, her face contorting. She twisted her torso abruptly, wrenching her shoulder out of his grasp. She gasped as the movement jarred the fractured bone. Her mind was firmly in control of the pain that seared through her body. It centered her being and rooted her in her flesh.

Dirk's eyes widened as he saw a fragment of her collar bone pressing up against her skin from the inside. She was indifferent to the horrific state of damage her abrupt, jarring movements caused.

The hellfire in her eyes seemed to dance in her eyes. There was no hint of fondness or affection in her countenance now. She looked angered by the ploy to manipulate her with pain. "I'm so sick of all of you - by Azriok, Zyr, Baal, Astaroth and especially you."

"Astaroth?" Dirk repeated, surprised that she had mentioned that name. "You know that fiend?"

"Yes, foolish prince. I am well acquainted with him. He told me all about his visit with you." She smiled mirthlessly, "He told me you tried to sell your soul to get me back. Very flattering. And very futile."

To get your power, not you," he said icily. This reunion had not gone at all as he had expected. He cursed himself for coming here at all - he was no closer to solving his diabolic problem. He had lost the monocle and found himself now more exasperated with Zyrdicia than he had ever thought possible. Every barb she threw deepened the rift between them. He hoped to at least return the favor. He added, "You matter to me as a weapon and a source of power. Nothing more."

"Which is still more than you matter to me. When the Sephiroth destroy you and all that matters to you, know that I shed no tear for you, that I am indifferent to your plight." With that, Zyrdicia disappeared.

Dirk stood by himself in the massive subterranean chamber. Outside in the viewing gallery, the spectators were all gone. He terribly tired and realized that he had not eaten in two days. The prince was alone, weaponless and without magic in a foreign city where he knew no one and had no allies. He had no way even to return to Castle Blackpool. He was reduced to a sense of powerlessness he had never known in his life. He slumped down heavily in a chair in the gallery to rest a moment. If he had had gods to pray to, he might have prayed that this were just a dream, some awful nightmare from which he would awaken at first light