Brimstone Angels (45 page)

“Oh.” And she couldn’t help but imagine their positions exchanged—Havilar dead by his sword. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why?”

“… They’re dead. We killed them.”

He shrugged. “They would have killed us. Me, in particular, with a great deal of glee. Besides, they’re not dead like you’d hope—you kill a devil on Toril, they reform in the Hells.” He looked over at her. “It’s complicated. Don’t …” He trailed off though, and didn’t tell her not to worry about it. “They can’t come here. Not for now.”

“Then what are you afraid of?”

“I have fifty-eight half-sisters,” he said.

“We took care of those other ones. Those erinyes,” Havilar said, testing the word, “pretty handily. We’ll do it again. Just stand aside next time.”

“Nemea and Aornos are easily the stupidest, laziest, and least dangerous of all my half-sisters. They still could have killed you in a heartbeat if you weren’t lucky and they weren’t cocky.” He turned back to the window and gripped the sill. “When the next wave comes, Invadiah will send better soldiers. And more of them. If she doesn’t come herself. You can think yourself whatever sort of hero you like, but Invadiah will cut you down all the same.”

Farideh swallowed, imagining an army of the fearsome devil-women, their swift and shining swords, their nigh-unbreakable armor. “Why are they here?”

He scowled. “Because someone has thrown me over to the wolves. They think I’ve betrayed my mother. Or worse, Glasya.” His dark eyes met Farideh’s. “They won’t stop—not until I’m dead or I convince Invadiah I’m no traitor. They knew you too.”

“I heard that. You were right about Rohini then. That was supposed to be me.”

“She’ll be looking for you.”

“But why? Who is she?”

He looked down at her, still puzzled, still angry. “Rohini is a devil,” he said after a breath. “A succubus. She is the main agent—maybe the only agent—of Glasya, Lord of the Sixth Layer, in Neverwinter.”

“What about you?” Brin asked.

Lorcan scowled at him. “I live at Glasya’s pleasure, but I don’t act on her orders.”

“What is Rohini doing here?” Farideh asked.

“I haven’t the faintest idea.” He sighed. “You won’t understand, but I have worked very hard not to have the faintest idea.”

“She’s spellscarring orcs,” Havilar said matter-of-factly. “Even I know that.”

Lorcan shrugged. “That could be her goal. That could be a step to something bigger. That could be an act so far ahead of her eventual goal that no one but Glasya could uncover what it is. I don’t know if Invadiah even knows, and she’s commanding Rohini. Devils don’t do things they way you do.”

“Think,” Farideh said. “You must have heard something, if you know that much.”

He shook his head resolutely, as if he didn’t want to remember. “Old ones,” he finally said. “She said she couldn’t risk the old ones.”

Old ones? Farideh thought. Gods, could they be any more vague? “Old whats? Risk them what?” But Lorcan only shook his head.

“They
said
arbalests,” Havilar said. “Or habolets. A sovereignty of habolets.”

“Havi, that’s not even a word,” Farideh said.

“I’m only saying what I—” Havilar started, but a horrified gasp cut her off.

“Aboleths?” Brin said, staring at her.

“Oh,” Havilar said. “Maybe. That makes more sense than giving orcs to an arbalest. Aren’t aboleths sea monsters though?”

When they’d crossed the Sea of Fallen Stars to take the northern passage, the sailors had scanned the skies constantly for any sign of the aboleths. Hulking monsters, they’d told her, large as whales. Swam through water and air alike. They might pass a ship by, might render another into nothing but blood and splinters floating on the water, might coat all aboard a third with a layer of slime that sank into your head and warped your mind, making you into a servant
with hardly a will of your own. Mehen had snorted and called them ridiculous tales, but he made Farideh and Havilar stay below deck.

“They’re going to be disappointed those orcs can’t swim,” Havilar said.

Farideh bit her tongue and did not ask where Havilar had gotten the idea that orcs couldn’t swim. “What would Rohini want to treat with an aboleth for?” she asked Brin.

But Brin still sat, wide-eyed with horror. “Not
an
aboleth,” he said. “They’re dealing with the Abolethic Sovereignty.”

“Is that … like a herd of aboleths?” Farideh asked.

“It’s what controls them.” He shook his head. “Or something. Look, aboleths aren’t like regular creatures. They’re … they know things. And what one knows, they all know. Their memories are shared. The Sovereignty is like the mind that steers things. Maybe.” He sighed. “I’m not explaining it well, but I don’t know if anyone can explain it well. People aren’t supposed to know these things.”

“I quite agree,” Lorcan said.

“Why would Rohini be dealing with aboleths of any sort?” Farideh asked.

“Because,” Lorcan replied, “the archduchess of the Sixth Layer said to. That’s all you need to know.”

Farideh twisted the ends of her hair. “Then maybe she’s making a pact of some sort with the Abolethic Sovereignty?”

“No,” Brin said. “I mean, I don’t think so. They don’t make treaties. They don’t make pacts. I don’t even think they talk to other powers. They don’t
think
like anything else does. It would be like you making an agreement with a tree. Why would you? The tree doesn’t have anything you couldn’t just take, and the tree can’t use anything you could give it.”

“And,” Lorcan added, “making treaties is not Glasya’s style. She does things on her own, and your aboleths couldn’t take what they’d like from her.”

Farideh frowned. Why bother trying to please a monster if the creature wasn’t a threat to you, wasn’t an ally for you, and didn’t have something you wanted? After all, what would an archdevil do with a sea monster’s treasures?

“Would she want their memories?” she asked Brin. “That’s what you said, right? They share their memories? So if you were able to read the memories of one?”

“You’d have a million years of memories,” he said, “starting with the first aboleths. And … I don’t know what’s true about them, but I’ve heard they absorb the memories of those they eat as well. That might be a sailor’s tale, but … even devils can swallow sailor’s tales, right?”

“So if you chose the right aboleth,” Farideh said, “you could know anything.”

“But you’d have to
get
to their memories,” Brin said. “And they’re too powerful. They look like dumb beasts maybe, but you can’t match their minds.”

“You don’t have to match their minds,” Lorcan said. “You have to possess them.” He ran his hands through his hair. “And then you can also control them. You can make them consume anyone you like. Anyone they could best.”

“No,” Brin said. “They’re too powerful—”

“As powerful as a princess of the Hells?” Lorcan snapped. “There are those who worship Glasya as a god. Regardless of what your Sovereignty can or cannot do to her, she will make them reconsider their supremacy.”

It was plausible, Farideh thought. Though it seemed an awful lot of trouble … an awful lot of risk for something that might come to nothing at all. She shook her head. Maybe Lorcan was right. Maybe it was foolhardy to puzzle out the motives of archdevils. Maybe Glasya was the reckless one.

His eyes met Farideh’s. “Darling, you have to agree this is far over any of our heads. Archdevils and aboleths? What do you think to do against that?”

He was right, of course; she was not a match for an aboleth. Against Glasya’s plans, she would be no more an obstacle than a pebble in the road.

“Nothing,” she said. “But now we know better how to distract Rohini while we rescue Mehen.”

“And even if you get to him, darling, she has him dominated. He won’t come willingly. Better for you to think of him as dead.”

“What your orc couldn’t do?” she said bitterly. His eyes hardened. “We’re going back for Mehen.”

“Fine,” he said. “Break your own heart. Go see Mehen’s not coming back. But don’t try to stop Glasya’s plans. I beg you. You cannot stand against her. None of you can.”

“Can
you?
” Havilar asked.

“I’m not stupid enough to try,” he said. He scanned the street again. “What about the Ashmadai?” Farideh said.

Lorcan gave another of those hopeless sounding laughs. “Avoid them too.”

“They thought the Glasyans were after them. Is that Rohini’s doing?”

“Why are you trying to puzzle all of this out?” Lorcan cried. “There’s nothing to be gained by knowing what the plans of archdevils are. It’s only going to draw their eyes. We shouldn’t even be
guessing
at what Rohini is tasked with.”

“I’m trying to figure out what we should be doing before your fifty-eight half-sisters show up along with Rohini and her
karshoji-
possessed aboleths, and tear this city to the ground.” She fought the urge to threaten him with the rod again. “
You’re
the one who brought up Ashmadai before. You’re the one who claimed we were in the middle of a Hellish civil war. You’re the one demanding I get out of Neverwinter safely, so help me. Tell me what we’re dealing with.”

But Lorcan merely clamped his mouth shut and shook his head emphatically.

“Fine.” Farideh turned her back to him. “We need to get back to the hall and to Mehen. Without running into any more devils.”

“And we have to undo what Rohini’s done to Mehen,” Havilar added. She looked up at Lorcan. “Does he know how to do that?”

“We try things until they work,” Farideh answered. “Starting with Brin’s magic.”

“No,” Brin said. “I’m not strong enough … you need a more powerful priest than me.”

“Luckily this place is
lousy
with priests,” Havilar said. “Tam is somewhere here, isn’t he?”

Farideh pursed her lips. “He said to meet him outside the South Gate. We don’t have time to find him.”

“You
have
to,” Brin said. “Unless you have powerful potions up your sleeves?”

“A present from your lousy priest?” Lorcan muttered.

“What sort of potions?” Farideh asked. “A potion of vitality? Would that do it?”

“Well … yes,” Brin said. He squinted at her. “Where did you get a potion of vitality?”

“I don’t have one,” Farideh said. “But Yvon did. There’s one on the shelf of the shop.”

“The Ashmadai place?” Havilar said.

Lorcan snorted. “How terribly safe.”

Farideh ignored him. “It’ll be fine. They’re all dead, remember?”

“Not by a long shot.”

Farideh glared at Lorcan. “I’m sorry, I thought you didn’t want to puzzle this out. Have you got something to add?”

He regarded her a long moment, as if he did, as if he wanted to spell out what she was missing. But he turned resolutely to the window. “Don’t say you’re sorry when you’re not.”

“What do you mean they aren’t all dead?” Havilar demanded. “Farideh said we killed them all.”

Lorcan paused, as if he didn’t want to say. “The Ashmadai are as numerous as termites in Neverwinter. And now they’re angry. If Rohini left even one alive, scads of them are now looking for the two of you.”

Farideh cursed. Why did Lorcan always have to be right? Aboleths and cultists of Asmodeus, and devils serving Glasya—you’re being stubborn if you stay here, she thought. Nothing but stubborn.

“Fine,” Farideh said. “We need one to go get the potion and one to get Mehen out of the temple. Brin, you’re the one the Ashmadai haven’t seen. You break into the shop.” She looked at Havilar and bit her lip. The worst of her shock had subsided, but she was still looking drawn and nervous. Farideh couldn’t ask Havilar to come anywhere near Rohini, not if the succubus might possess her again.

“Can you go with him?” she asked. “He’ll need someone to guard him.”

Havilar nodded once. “And I’m fast,” she said, half to herself. “I can get there quick and be back to meet you—”

“No,” Farideh said. “We meet by the gate. If something happens, you can’t be caught.” She hesitated a moment and turned to Brin. “Keep up if you can, heal her if the bandage doesn’t hold. I’ll bring Mehen to you.”

Brin glanced up at Lorcan. “Is he going with you?”

“No,” Farideh said, just as Lorcan answered, “Yes.”

“
No,
” she said again, “you aren’t.”

“Rohini must have a portal to the Hells. She couldn’t travel back and forth without one. Since my … path, is clearly not working, I might as well come with you and find hers.” He smirked. “It’s just convenient.”

“Or we could kill you,” Havilar piped. “That would send you back.”

He glowered. “That doesn’t work on
half
-devils.”

“Havi, go,” Farideh said. “We don’t have much time. Brin, go with her. Keep your eyes open. If you run into Ashmadai—”

“Yes, Mehen,” Havilar said, sliding into her glaive’s harness. “We’ll be careful.”

Words caught in Farideh’s mouth—she wanted to warn Havilar, to snap at her for being flippant, to tell her she loved her dearly in case something happened. To say she was sorry for everything that had brought them here. There wasn’t time. She hugged her twin tight. “Be careful.”

“I’ll try,” Havilar said, squeezing her back. “You be careful, too. You don’t need me to tell you, worrywart, but do it anyway.” Farideh chuckled.

She made a point of hugging Brin as well, stiff and awkward as it felt. “Don’t let her fight any cultists,” she murmured. “Please.”

“I’ll try,” he said.

Havilar eyed Lorcan a moment before giving Farideh one last, significant look—a reminder that being careful extended to the cambion—and heading down the wall with Brin following.

You
will
see her again, she told herself. It made the lump in her throat harder to swallow. Farideh looked back over her shoulder at Lorcan, who was still giving her a petulant, puzzled sort of stare.

“What in all the planes were you doing in an Ashmadai safe-house?” he asked quietly.

“Finding a way out of this pact.”

His eyes tightened, and he folded his arms over his chest. “How clever of you. No better way to the peaks of the Hells than clinging to the god of sin’s most brutal followers.”

“Fortunately I have other options,” she said, ignoring the insult. “If you’re going to follow me, you ought to put your disguise back on.”