6.3

When Zyrdicia returned to the fortress from her killing spree in Grogan, Dirk Blackpool was in the great hall in a rage. Apparently, he had learned nothing from torturing the kitchen staff. The only person who had departed during the time period of the poisoning managed to get out without anyone noting his name. The prince already executed the gate guards for their incompetence.

To add to his fury, when she returned, he was in the midst of receiving a report of "chaos in Grogan, like a demon passing through the town square." The guard reporting the problem described the mayhem in considerable detail.

Zyrdicia took a seat at a large council table across from the prince, feigning disinterest. "I was just there. There were no demons. I would have known if family had been in town."

The prince dismissed the guard and glared at her furiously. "I have already killed a half dozen people in this affair, do NOT tempt me to execute another."

"Only a half-dozen? I killed twenty-one. I would have killed more, but your soldiers were the only easy, individual targets left. I assumed obliterating the town would lead to another pointless argument with you. By the way, I found your assassin."

"Where is he?"

"Which part?"

"Surely you were not so idiotic as to kill him before I could interrogate him?"

She snarled, "Oh, spare me the inane tirade. I lack the patience tonight. I brought you his head. Perhaps you like to decorate your walls with such things. I also brought the head of the person paying him."

She pulled the magic fabric from her pocket and spread the backside of it out on her palms. She caught its edges quickly with her fingers and turned it upside down. Both heads rolled out with a plopping sound onto the floor. The money the dead men had been exchanging jingled out after the heads.

She stood up and retrieved the items, placing them carefully on the table in front of him. Gesturing at the money, she remarked, "Apparently you life isn't worth much. Ten thousand kolnas. I would be insulted. Lyrian assassins wouldn't get out of bed in the morning for so little. Of course, they probably wouldn't have been as obvious, either." He glared at her. "And as for interrogating them, I already got everything out of their heads that was worth anything. I found it boring."

"Such as?"

She relayed what she had found in the tall man's mind. His eyes widened when she mentioned the Blue Thorn. "That was my mother's rebellion. They were supposed to have been annihilated years ago. What else did you find out from them?"

"That's it. It's not my issue. You should be happy I found them at all."

"You couldn't discover the identity of the aristocracy supporting it?"

"He didn't know and I didn't care. But, of course, you can still question them yourself, if you prefer. The advantage of questioning the dead is that they can't lie or hide their thoughts. If you want to talk to them, I can show you how to do it with the monocle." The thought of him having a conversation with a decapitated head amused her slightly.

"Do it!" he snapped irritably.

She looked around the room. "I need something to mount the heads on so that the jaws will be able to move freely. Spears? Sharpened poles?" He stood up and retrieved two pole arms from a weapons closet. Without hesitating, he rammed each head upon a speared tip and leaned the instruments against a wall with the faces turned outward.

"Can we proceed?" he asked impatiently.

"Absolutely. I'm going to send a thought into your mind that will help you focus the energy correctly. Don't fight it, simply project it through the monocle when you receive it - as you would in the mind speech - but this time you are conversing with the monocle. Do you understand?"

"Get on with it."

"Clear your mind of everything else." She wasn't at all sure that he would be able to do it. It would be an interesting test of his relationship with the monocle, at the very least. She formulated the incantation and sent it to him. A burst of green light immediately shot out of the monocle, splitting toward each severed head.

"Who summons us?" the heads asked in unison, their voices raspy and strained.

"Prince Dirk Blackpool summons you." The prince made the pronouncement proudly, a thin smile spreading over his lips at his success.

"For what purpose?"

"You are to tell me everything you know of the assassination attempt."

Zyrdicia held out her hand, freezing the heads momentarily. "I have other things to deal with right now. When you are finished with them, reverse the polarity of the energy you sent to dispatch them back to the underworld."

"How?"

"Think the thought backwards! Practice it until you figure out how to do it, if you must. I don't have time to hold your hand while you learn magic tonight."

"And if it doesn't work, I'll send for you."

"Don't! Toss them in the fire, cut out their tongues, sever their jawbones, I don't care. My door will be locked with lethal magical wards. Expect to be incinerated if you try to pass it." Her glowing eyes bored into him.

He returned her unkind stare. "Whatever else you have planned, get some sleep. Your current temperament annoys me. Furthermore, I received word from Geoffrey." He looked around the room suspiciously, clearly concerned that someone might be eavesdropping.

"If the walls have ears, use the thought speech," she sighed, exasperated.

"What we expected has transpired. The southern troops have gathered in the valley to reinforce the defense of the pass. We shall proceed with the attack tomorrow night."

She looked visibly relieved. It was the only good news she had received all day. "The carnage will do infinitely more for my mood than sleep." She stood up to leave, "If you'll excuse me, chaos calls."

He looked at her strangely and chose to ignore it. "Goodnight then." She departed without another word, waving her hand absently at the mounted heads, releasing them.

The prince turned back to the objects of his interrogation. "Now, where were we?"

The first head blurted out. "I don't know squat. This guy paid me to poison you. He gave me the poison. I got hired on with the kitchen staff. I dumped it in your food, then I took off. Last thing I know, he was giving me the money in Grogan. Then someone whacked me. That's all I know."

The other head began, "I paid him because my commander in the Blue Thorn ordered me to do it. I don't know his name. He is known only as the Duke, but I doubt he's really a Duke. We wear masks when we meet. I have no idea how to even contact him. He always finds me."

"Who organizes the Blue Thorn?"

"Some Karteian aristocrats. I don't know."

"How did you become involved in it?"

"I complained incessantly about how much I hate you and the way you run this country. Eventually someone grabbed me, blindfolded me and took me to a secret meeting in the woods. Everybody wore masks. They talked about their hope of overthrowing you and stopping the senseless war with the South. I joined immediately."

The prince sneered and muttered, "She was right, you are boring." He continued, "Do you know the names of anyone else involved in the rebellion?"

"No," said the assassin.

"Only code names," said his employer.

"I want to know every code name of which you are aware."

The head rattled off a list. The prince wrote down each one. The deceased ended the string of pseudonyms, "And may they succeed where I failed."

The prince scowled angrily. He picked up both pole arms and thrust the insolent heads into the flames flickering in a great fireplace. Still, they chattered on.

As his hair caught fire, the poisoner babbled, "Hey, I'm already dead. You can't torture me, moron!"

The flesh searing upon its dead skull, the spirit of the other man enjoined in a shrill pitch, "You are the most incompetent ruler in five centuries, Blackpool! Your father was a cretin, and you only compound his folly. The people are starving and we haven't annexed new land since the time of your grandfather. Camarandian peasants are richer than Karteian nobles. And Greystone beats you at every confrontation. The people ought to declare him king. The dead don't lie! Hahaha!"

Dirk was too furious to puzzle out the method of transposing the magical thought which accessed the monocle's energy. In a single evening some fool had dared to try to assassinate him and then he had discovered a rebellious plot to overthrow him. Now the dead actually dared to taunt him.

"Zyrdicia! Come here, now! I insist that you return to dispatch these spirits!" He sent the thought to her urgently, but had no sensation that it reached her. He remembered her remark about the ability to filter unwanted conversation, and it only compounded his rage.

"Blackpool, you are so bad for the country, we could put the power in the hands of the peasants and have a better result. Even your idiot brother might do a better job. Of course, he loses battles just as frequently as you do. He loses because he's mentally impaired; however, you lose because your ego short-circuits the rest of your brain. The dead don't lie! Hahaha!"

Dirk pulled the charred head out of the flames and slammed it angrily against a wall. The skull burst open and partially-roasted brain matter splattered out. The jaw, however, remained intact.

"In fact, the main reason we need more room for Karteia is so that the country will fit your super-inflated ego. There isn't room for it in the North. Fighting for more land is, of course, also necessary because more civilized means of acquiring land - like marriage - are closed to you. Every king and high-ranking aristocrat in the realm knows you are crazy. Not one of them would ever consider marrying off a well-bred, landed girl to you. Everyone knows you are poison to all that you touch. The dead don't lie! Hahaha!"

Dirk struggled to still his mind enough to focus upon the mental process of dispelling the spirits. Through the veil of his rage, he searched for a quiet place in the mental landscape of his psyche.

"More people quietly join the rebellion with each passing month. Even if you live, there is the possibility you will never be king. Some of the Blue Thorn organizers are among your barons. They compose the electoral council which ceremonially ratifies a new king. Even if your father died tomorrow, they could keep you from ascending to the throne. The barons have never rejected a Blackpool heir in all of recorded history, but you could well be the first. The dead don't lie! Hahaha!"

The words barely penetrated the prince as he concentrated upon the perplexing task of thinking a thought backwards. Without success, he repeatedly tried to reverse the action in his head that led to the monocle's burst of energy. He was undaunted by his failure.

In his well-ordered memory, he systematically re-examined the thought Zyrdicia had originally sent. He recognized that there was, indeed, a flowing chronology within it. Beginning at the thought's end, he projected it through the monocle, working his way backwards. Green light exploded out from the monocle, expelling the pestering spirits before they could begin another round of insults.

Silence and the stench of burned human flesh were the prince's only companions in the great hall now. He sighed deeply. He was mentally and physically exhausted from the exercise and the day's events.

He considered reading the sheaf of papers from Cai before retiring but decided to put it off until the morning. Considering his kingdom's current financial woes so soon after discovering both an assassination plot and a possible insurrection was more than he could comfortably process. Annihilation of his southern enemies tomorrow would provide a much-needed diversion from the unfolding unpleasantness within his homeland.

6.4

In her chambers, Zyrdicia flopped absent-mindedly upon the pile of silken cushions now adorning her bed. She pressed her face into her hands, thinking.

The priest, Azros, would have been bringing a message to her from Azriok. Of that she was certain. Azriok could not contact her directly at the moment. She had not given him an opportunity to send a dream emissary. He had no way of knowing where she was. There was some advantage to his inability to locate her, but she needed to find out what he was trying to warn her about. Zyr had already killed Azros to prevent the message from reaching her, so there was no telling what else her father would do.

She wished she had the Annihilation Spheres from Zyr already. The magical devices were instrumental in her plan to slay a Sephiroth, if the need ever should arise. That Zyr hadn't guessed as much when she named them as the reward for accomplishing this errand surprised her.

The timing of Azros' execution perturbed her. The discovery of an original Tenaebran version of the corrupt Twilight Prophecy might be connected. It would take Phillip days to translate the tablet into common verse. She wanted to see it for herself now.

She had to go to Lyr. Theoretically, when Zyr sent her on an errand, she concentrated on it to the exclusion of all else. That was impossible in her current state of mind. The journey there would not in any way impede Zyr's work, she reasoned. She could be back well before dawn, before anyone even noticed she was gone.

"Portia, where are you?"

"Magnus' office. We're were about to leave for the Devil's Cauldron."

Zyrdicia rolled her eyes, realizing that it was about the time of night that Lyr's beautiful and powerful gathered at the Cauldron, a massive, labyrinthine tavern and entertainment establishment Zyrdicia owned in Lyr's debaucherous Red Zone. "I'm coming to Lyr. Stay where you are."

"You're gating in here?"

"No, I can't. I personally proofed the Guild building against magically entry. I'm gating into the street outside."

Zyrdicia appeared on Fascination Street in Lyr, directly across from the understated, monolithic structure that housed the Assassin Guild. The windowless building had a single entry in the front. The entry was always locked. She knocked. The doorman opened a small panel high in the door. He recognized her immediately and smiled in greeting. He flashed a hand signal through the opening. She answered with a second signal, confirming her identity. He opened the door to let her in and immediately locked it behind her. He kissed her lightly on the cheek in typical Lyrian custom, "Welcome back, Your Grace!"

She smiled thinly, tolerating the exaggerated familiarity. In happier times, Fred, the doorman, was entertaining. Not tonight.

He winked and pointed at the hallway behind him. She knew the way.

She took the hallway to a secret door, then ascended a hidden stairway up to Magnus' office. She noted at least ten of Magnus' goons hiding in the shadows along the corridor. She knew most of them, but didn't linger long enough to greet them.

The door to Magnus' office was open. She entered, and closed it.

Magnus stood up and smiled warmly. "Zyrdicia, darling!" He kissed her cheek and embraced her in a much-needed display of genuine affection. "I'm so glad you are back. I've been worried about you."

The attractive Assassin Guildmaster was tall, thin and strong as a whip. His glittering brown eyes reflected a deadly intelligence beyond his twenty-five years. He wore his fashionably long, dark hair pulled back at his neck.

As a child in the city, Magnus had often hidden from his tutors by visiting Zyrdicia in the Temple. There he learned more about the world than his tutors could ever teach. Children usually annoyed Zyrdicia, but Arcus' son often made her laugh. She had tolerated the boy's persistent presence, and often entertained him with magic. To him then, she had been a sort of magical fairy godmother who could always find humor in the most ruthless reality.

As he had grown up, she had become a confidante that no other woman would ever be for him. At thirteen, after he had kissed a girl for the first time, he had talked to her about it before mentioning it to any of his peers. He had eventually developed a consuming crush on the beautiful, unobtainable older woman that would persist through most of his life.

Now that he was an adult, they were closer than they ever had been. As a Council Member and Guildmaster, he finally was a part of her inner circle. He was no longer the little boy she humored, but the powerful man who was a trusted friend. He was sufficiently well-versed in her history to know that they would never be more than friends, and that knowledge made him savor the friendship more. That fact was often lost on city gossips, who viewed the frequent displays of affection between the pair as cause for tongues to wag.

After he embraced her, he led her to a set of gray, sculptured couches in the rear of his office. Portia had already spread herself across one of them. He sat down next to Zyrdicia. He immediately noticed the nervous fidgeting which possessed her white hands and wrapped his own long fingers around them.

Portia noted her mistress' glowing eyes with concern. She knew it was an early sign of sleep deprivation, but said nothing of it. She knew that Zyrdicia had slept perhaps three hours in the last three days in Aparans. In itself, such behavior was not atypical of the purple-eyed woman. Zyrdicia had never been well acquainted with slumber.

Portia had seen her last as long as 6 days without any sleep at all. She accomplished the feat once by supplementing the Tenaebran energy with a powerful elixir from Charles and Anthony's world. The result had been a brief period of psychosis which left Zyrdicia unable to view light, desperate to kill anything that neared her - including friends - and tormented by demonic voices. That period had marked Zyrdicia's final nocturnal killing rampage in the City of Angels, and prompted Portia to convince her to depart from that world. Portia had threatened to kill Anthony if he brought any of the addictive elixir with him to Lyr.

Zyrdicia began, "Please tell me nothing else has happened since your last report, Portia."

"Nothing yet. We were just talking about what to do about Tiny Town."

"Let's start with that."

Magnus announced, "I'm going to take a group of goons down there later to find Gropius. He'll revoke the contract with proper encouragement. Then we'll take him out to the water and feed pieces of him to the sharks in the lagoon." He smiled mischievously. "There's a full moon. It's a nice night for shark feeding."

Zyrdicia shook her head emphatically. There was no mirth in her eyes. "Absolutely not. You are going to write up a Guild contract on him for me. Six million plats." Magnus' eyes widened at the sum. "And I want you to take care of it personally. Don't delegate it."

"My friend, I would kill anyone you asked me to as a personal favor. I certainly won't take your money to kill Gropius."

"No, I want this one cleanly documented. I want the contract publicly posted tomorrow. Gropius overstepped his bounds - by circumventing the Guild, and by daring to come into conflict with me. The price reflects the legal cost of buying off his own contract - but I prefer to buy his corpse. Doing it this way sends an appropriate message about both the Guild, and my own intolerance of such activities."

Magnus nodded, considering the political ramifications. He knew she was right. His eyes glittered playfully, "When it's completed, I'll have his corpse bronzed. I'll deliver the statue to the Temple for display in the gardens."

Zyrdicia smiled for the first time since her arrival. That she did not laugh told him volumes about her state of mind. He stood up and retrieved parchment and a silver quill from his desk. He drew up the requested document in his orderly script.

As he wrote, Zyrdicia added, "Specify an escrow agency of your choice for the money transfer."

He shot her a quizzical look. "Why would I require funds to be held in escrow from you? That's ludicrous."

It was standard practice in Lyr for the price of a Guild death contract to be deposited with a safe, reputable third party until the Guild could prove the terms were fulfilled. It guaranteed payment in the event the contractor changed his mind, or died unexpectedly.

She sighed. "Magnus, just do it. Please?"

"No. It's ridiculous."

"I demand it."

"You can't demand it. Escrow is solely at the Guild's option."

"Then escrow it through the Guild itself," she insisted. "Portia will bring you the plats in the morning."

Magnus frowned. The source of funds was a non-issue with Zyrdicia - she was probably the wealthiest person in Lyr, if not on the entire plane of existence. She had always operated on a good-faith basis with the Guild; in fact, technically she was still a major investor. There was no chance that she would ever void a contract before its payment terms were fulfilled. There was only one explanation for her behavior.

"You are that worried about disappearing before its completion?"

She looked away and darkness seemed to pass over the glow of her eyes. "I don't know what I'm worried about. If I get dragged into something between Zyr and Azriok in Hell, I don't want to leave loose ends like this."

"If they drag you off to Hell, this matter will be of no consequence."

"Just write the damned terms in, Magnus."

He nodded, his eyes revealing his concern. He handed her the quill, and she signed in her distinctive flourish.

"Now that it's done, there is more to discuss about Tiny Town," she said solemnly. "It isn't enough to kill Gropius. I want every gnome in the city exterminated. I want to put a price of 1000 plats on the head of every gnomish man, woman and child."

Magnus grinned, "I sell individual assassinations, not genocide. Mass executions are more your department."

"It's hard to kill en masse when I'm out of town. Unfortunately, I have to hire someone to do it for me while I'm gone. I don't want to let it wait until my return." She had expected Magnus to not involve the Guild in genocide. In fact, she had counted on it. "I knew you'd feel that way. But legally I do have to offer the contract to the Guild before I can put the proposition up for outside consideration. Keep this conversation in mind when it comes before the Council; it will."

He looked interested. "And what sort of political intrigue are we perpetrating against the city now?"

Zyrdicia looked at Portia. "I want you to take an armed escort into the Shadow Peaks. On the south slope of the Lesser Fang, there lives a horde of goblins. Their chieftain calls himself 'Blog.' They hate gnomes with a passion. Tell them the price I've put on the Lyrian gnomes. I'm only paying for locals -- not their mountain brethren! Goblins will come in droves and annihilate the little wretches. Let the goblins loot Tiny Town. Tell them if they try to go anywhere in the city but Tiny Town, I won't pay them."

Magnus rolled his eyes. "You are talking about bringing a demi-human war into the city. The Council will be in an uproar!"

"And I'm merely procuring non-Guild services on a contract you rejected. Perfectly legal. And as for starting a war, technically, Tiny Town hasn't been incorporated into the city limits. It's only a protectorate right now. It's hardly war, but even if you construe it as such, as long as it's outside of the city proper, who cares?"

Magnus laughed, "You could twist the Council By-Laws to say water flows uphill if it suited you."

"I am the only Council member who was present when they were written. Hell, I drafted half of them myself. Speaking of which, there is a Council Meeting next week. You still are my proxy while I'm away."

The Council required all sitting members to either attend its meetings or invest another member with the power to cast a vote in the absent member's stead. Zyrdicia always designated Magnus as her proxy when she planned to be away for extended periods. Their interests were closely aligned, and she trusted him.

"Shall I use your vote to affirm a resolution condemning the senseless slaughter of little people and Demidorf's invasion by barbaric monsters?" Magnus asked ironically.

"No, use it to pass a law banning gnomes from the city limits. I don't want them seeking refuge inside Lyr."

"Agreed. Not that many of the city's residents would welcome them with open arms..." He smiled. "Open gardens, perhaps, but not arms."

Zyrdicia leaned against him, smiling. "Stop it. I'm trying to indulge in gloom and deal with serious business. All you do is torment me with garden gnome quips."

"At least you smiled." He put his arm around her shoulders. "Now if you are finished with serious business, let's take the meeting to the Cauldron. As we drink, we'll see what we can do about erasing this gloomy mood before you leave us."

"I want to go by Phillip's vault at the University first. I have to see the tablet."

"Can you get in without Phillip?"

She looked at him as though the question couldn't possibly be serious.

He kissed her cheek again. "I forget that they haven't yet built a vault which could keep you out."

The University was only a short walk from the Assassin Guild through the Old City's maze of narrow, dark streets. Zyrdicia walked between Magnus and Portia silently. The night was warm and fragrant. Despite the late hour, the streets were far from deserted.

A few blocks from the University, Zyrdicia discerned a faint shuffling sound in the distance behind them. As they turned from street to street, the footsteps followed. The frequency of the pursuer's steps suggested a very short stride. Without turning her head, Zyrdicia cast a sidelong glance at Magnus. He nodded almost imperceptibly. Without speaking a word, they both turned into the first alley they came to. Zyrdicia snatched Portia's arm, guiding the oblivious servant into the darkness.

Zyrdicia immediately hid all three of them in a layer of invisibility. Seconds later, a small figure lingered at the entry of the alleyway, peering into the shadows. He entered the narrow corridor cautiously and drew a short sword as he searched for his quarry.

As the little figure approached, Zyrdicia lunged at him from the darkness with inhuman quickness. She wrapped her hand around the wrist of his sword arm, crushing the bone with superhuman strength. The sword clattered to the ground. The gnome warrior whimpered and tried to pull away as he realized his predicament. Zyrdicia lifted him off his feet by his wrist and slammed his small body head first into the nearest stone wall. The impact smashed his skull and destroyed the bones in his neck and spine. The gnome's body quivered involuntarily for a moment, before freezing for eternity.

"Fucking amateurs!" Magnus cursed. "He might as well have worn a bell around his neck to announce himself." He shook his head angrily. "Idiot gnomes! They have no idea how far outside their league they are on this."

"They'll learn soon enough." Zyrdicia picked up the little sword and plunged it into the corpse to cover it in blood. She then used the toy-like weapon to write the words "Gropius' folly" on the wall above the body. Her strange, inimitable handwriting would be easily recognized. "Let's go."

The University campus was not set apart from the Old City's sinister urban landscape. Its buildings and lecture halls were very much a part of the surrounding community. The Demonology faculty offices were housed within the larger Department of History. Phillip's vault was located within his private office, in the building's east wing. It overlooked Slaughter Park, a popular, trapezoidal green space that had been the site of a number of brutal conflicts in the city's ancient past.

The trio traversed the park, passing a half dozen pairs of lovers entwined in the nocturnal stillness. The eclectic assortment of robbers and criminals roaming the space recognized Zyrdicia and Magnus gave them a wide berth.

Zyrdicia stopped suddenly. She sensed something was wrong. The air seemed to crackle with negative energy - Tenaebran energy. It seemed to be flowing from the History Building in front of them.

"What's wrong?" Magnus asked.

She shook her head and frowned. An instant later, purple flames exploded fiercely from the top story of the building. The force of the blast caused the earth to tremble beneath their feet. She looked up, frantically trying to determine the exact location of the devastation. Her heart sank when she saw the gaping hole in the building. "Phillip's office..."

She started to run toward the building. Magnus caught her gently around the waist. "No, you don't know what's up there now," he whispered. "It's too late."

Zyrdicia was on the verge of hysteria. "Damned Zyr! He got here first. What the fuck is he trying so desperately to hide?"

Magnus pulled her against him and held her tightly. He whispered urgently in her ear, "For your own sake, please shut up! There are too many people around. Right now, they'll probably think you did this. Let them. If your enemies sense you are distracted, your problems here will only multiply. Wait until we can get off the street."

Portia touched his arm and whispered, "I'm going to go and check on Phillip at his house. I want to make sure he's OK. After you get her calmed down, meet me at the Inner Sanctum inside the Cauldron later." The Inner Sanctum was a posh, private lounge reserved for Zyrdicia's friends within the enormous, sprawling establishment.

Magnus nodded to Portia, still holding Zyrdicia. Her purple eyes fell to the ground and a ring of fire surrounded them. The ring grew larger, propelling itself outward through the park with blinding speed. As it touched people in the vicinity, it incinerated them.

"Now there are no witnesses," Zyrdicia muttered, her rage barely constrained.

"There's no telling who might still be lurking. The Guild keeps a townhouse down the street. Let's go there and talk." Magnus steered her toward it through the now-empty park, his eyes constantly surveying the shadows.

The townhouse was one of many residences scattered throughout the city which the Guild occasionally used to lure assassination targets. This particular one was set in a quiet, genteel neighborhood.

He opened the door and pulled her inside its dark entry way. He didn't bother to light a lamp. He remembered that she preferred the dark, and he knew the house well enough to navigate through it without difficulty. The ability to memorize his surroundings to the point that he could move comfortably through them in complete darkness was a necessary skill in his profession.

Once inside, Magnus leaned against a wall and let her rant. As she spewed outrage at Zyr's behavior, he could see her pacing by following the movement of the purple glow of her eyes. She was both angry and shocked. He had known Zyrdicia long enough to be well acquainted with her dark moods, but he had never personally seen her this upset.

When her fury was spent, she sighed wearily. Her voice filled with regret, "I shouldn't have trapped Azriok in Hell. I still need him."

"Zyrdicia, you can't be certain he isn't orchestrating this. Maybe it's a game to drive you back into his arms. From what you've told me, he was never pleased about losing you."

"If I could talk to him, I could find out what's going on." She closed her eyes. "In fact, that is exactly what I have to do."

"You're going to go to Hell to see Azriok?"

"That's impossible. I don't know how I'll reach him yet. I just know that I feel Zyr's hand in all of this. I need Azriok to decipher it."

"After all he's put you through?" In the darkness, Magnus followed the glow of her eyes and reached out to her. He knew her relationship with Azriok was a source of anguish.

She caught his hand and squeezed it. "I've done my share of tormenting him as well." Her voice was sad.

He pulled her into another hug. "You owe him a lifetime of torment for his role in issuing the Edict. You shouldn't trust him."

"I made peace with Azriok's Edict long ago. It doesn't matter." Her tone was unconvincing. She rested her head on Magnus' shoulder, grateful for his presence and the affection. They held each other in the darkness for a long time.

Azriok's magical Edict was the reason Magnus and Zyrdicia could never be more than close friends. In fact, it prevented Zyrdicia from ever taking a mortal lover. The night she killed Azriok in this world, he spent his dying breath bringing the Edict into force. It represented one of the most powerful magical utterances of which a Sephiroth was capable, and once enacted, took an unyielding form roughly equivalent to a new cosmic law. The Edict categorically forbade her from ever coupling with a man. She had perfected the art of teasing and provoking strangers who pursued her, but she was as out of reach as a woman could possibly be.

If Zyrdicia had been a normal woman, Magnus would have kissed her as they held each other. The rare glimpses of vulnerability only endeared her more to him. She was easily the most sensual creature he had ever known. She had a constant need for touch and physical affection from those close to her, a need he was delighted to fulfil. Whether with him, or Portia, Anthony, Charles or any of the other people in her inner circle, she lacked the physical boundaries most people put on platonic friendship. It was normal for her to sit on his lap in the Inner Sanctum and nuzzle her cheek against his neck as they laughed together. It would have never occurred to her that it was inappropriate, and she was genuinely perplexed by the trouble it caused with Magnus' endless stream of girlfriends. There was nothing sexual about it to Zyrdicia. There couldn't be.

Magnus sighed. "I hate the thought of you going off to contact Azriok by yourself while all your friends are in Lyr. You should at least take Portia back with you."

"I can't. Not yet. I need her to run my goblin invasion of Tiny Town. Besides, I've always been alone when I deal with Azriok."

Magnus ran his fingers through her braids absently. "I seem to recall that last time there were a lot of us around to pick up the pieces after you tangled with him."

She had been a miserable wreck after the confrontation on the Astral Plane. After the momentary thrill of hurting Azriok passed, a lingering loneliness and despondence settled over her. There was a finality to it that she had underestimated. Previously, she could always look forward to killing his physical form in another plane whenever she needed to see him. Now the game was over. She could never see him again, barring an impossible journey to Hell. Her friends spent days coaxing back the laughter.

"It won't be like last time."

"What is so important that you have to run off again right away? Stay a few days. Deal with Azriok, then go finish your business."

"It's part of Zyr's fucking game. As of right now, I'm committed to finishing it. We'll see after I talk to Azriok. I should get back there now before I'm missed." Her voice sounded as tired as she felt. The Tenaebran energy was fading, as was the glow in her eyes.

"You know that you're always missed here. If I can do anything at all, have Portia contact me."

"Thank you. Go meet her at the Cauldron and have a drink for me."