The Gossamer Plain (32 page)

The other efreet stared in shock and awe at the corpse of their companion.

Vhok floated down to the ground. He came to rest beside Zasian, who stood glaring at the genies with his arms folded across his chest. The cambion drew a deep breath and added his own baleful stare.

“I trust no one else wishes to continue the folly of this dispute,” Vhok said.

The gathered efreet began to mumble among themselves. None stepped forward.

“Excellent,” Vhok said with a smile. “Then let me reiterate that my associate and I merely wish to find a guide to the City of Brass. We have no interest in wresting your precious mine from you.”

Negotiating a trip to the efreet’s capital was surprisingly easy. Vhok and Zasian observed a brief power struggle among the remaining genies to determine who would assume control of the mine. That task was interrupted by a short-lived slave revolt, which Vhok and Zasian helpfully put down. When the dust settled, the new efreeti leader agreed to transport the two visitors to the City of Brass as quickly as possible.

Before long, the cambion and the priest were racing across the Infernals, the small sea of magma between themselves and their destination, upon a magical flying carpet. A single efreeti commanded the conveyance, sitting cross-legged at the front. Vhok and Zasian sat side by side behind their guide, keeping a careful watch all around. They did not care to have another unpleasant visit from the flying beasts.

A hot wind, stinking of sulfur, whipped the half-fiend’s hair. Smoke drifted in great clouds across their path, and their guide did his best to avoid the worst of it. Below them, the ocean of lava frothed and churned, and Vhok understood the difficulties they would have faced trying to cross it in a

boat. The ships that traveled upon the Infernals stuck close to shore because the sea was a tempest away from the coast. Keeping a craft afloat would have required something close to a miracle.

From time to time, the efreeti guide cast a fearful glance back at the pair. He seemed nervous about their intentions toward him. He regularly promised swift and accurate service and tried to assure his guests that nothing would interfere with them arriving at the City of Brass as fast as the carpet would allow.

Vhok was delighted with the turn of events. He and the Banite were speeding toward their destination, no longer trudging across broiling stone and free of assaults from native creatures. He congratulated himself on the decision to visit the mine, even though Hafiz had nearly delivered them into slavery or death.

After another period of travel, Vhok spotted it. Through the haze and smoke of the searing atmosphere, he spied the myriad spires of the City of Brass. They rose on the horizon like a multitude of fingers jutting up from the sea of lava, topped with minarets. As the travelers drew closer, the magnificent city came into view. From their distance, Vhok estimated that the city stretched forty miles or more across. The entire place rested within a great hemispherical bowl of magnificent size that floated upon the sea of fire. The city rose like some misshapen ziggurat from within that bowl, with the Grand Sultan’s palace—the Charcoal Throne—near the center, at the highest point.

The guide steered the carpet closer and swooped lower, angling toward a place on the rim of the bowl. As Vhok peered ahead, he saw a huge gate there, an entrance to the city.

The half-fiend leaned forward and tapped the efreeti on the shoulder. “Why not just take us to the center of the city?”

he asked over the howling wind. “A nice inn, perhaps, some place that caters to travelers such as ourselves. No need to stop at the gate.”

The genie cast a sour glance back at Vhok and adjusted his flight path. “It is forbidden,” he explained. “All visitors must arrive by one of the gates around the city. To do otherwise is to break the Grand Sultan’s laws.”

Vhok rolled his eyes, but he shrugged and motioned for the efreeti to continue on his course. The cambion leaned over to Zasian. “I guess the Grand Sultan wants to make certain he gets his gate taxes,” he said with a grimace.

The priest only nodded.

The efreeti slowed the carpet and guided it down as they neared a large open plaza before the gate. A broad set of steps descended from the edge of the plaza into the sea of fire. Vhok supposed it had been built so that creatures native to that element and others upon floating craft could arrive and depart easily. At the moment, no one was there.

The genie set the flying carpet down close to the gate. As the great rippling tapestry touched down, Vhok stood and stretched. Zasian rose beside him and stepped off the carpet. Once Vhok disembarked, the genie gave them a cursory salute. “Simply announce yourselves to the guards, and they will charge a small fee to pass through,” the efreeti explained. “Welcome to the City of Brass,” he added.’ “Enjoy your stay.”

Before Vhok could respond and thank their guide, the efreeti had the carpet aloft and was speeding away.

The cambion chuckled. “I think he’s happy to be rid of us,” he said. “Maybe he thought you were going to slay him with a touch and steal his magical carpet.”

Zasian shrugged. “I considered it,” he said. “It was such a wondrous piece of magic,” he added ruefully, watching the carpet and the genie grow tiny in the distance.

The pair turned and strolled toward the gate. The portal was massive, with a great set of brass doors barring passage. Within the large doors, a smaller pair was inset, and those stood open. A pair of efreet, bare-chested and red-skinned, flanked the smaller portal. They seemed completely disinterested in Vhok and Zasian.

When the two visitors reached the gate, the efreeti on the left gave them a sharp glance. “State your name and business!” he ordered.

“Kaanyr Vhok, Lord of the Scourged Legion, Ruler of Ammarindar and points beyond. I am just visiting. And my associate here…” he said, gesturing toward the priest.

“Zasian Menz, Seneschal of the Master’s Hall in Sundabar in the service of Helm Dwarf-friend. Also visiting.”

The efreeti eyed them for a moment. He brought a hand up and scratched his chin. “Very well,” he said, as though reaching some monumental decision. “Ten pieces of gold apiece to enter.”

Vhok coughed to hide his surprise. “Is that all?” he asked sarcastically. “A pittance, considering.” He fetched a small garnet from the folds of his tunic and handed the efreeti the gem. “Will that cover us both?” he asked.

The genie studied the stone for a moment, then slipped it into a small brass box hanging from his belt. “Ought to do,” he replied. Then he stepped aside, giving access to the door. “Welcome to the City of Brass,” he said, and let the two visitors enter. “Enjoy your stay.”

The passage through the gate was longer than Vhok expected. It was a narrow tunnel running through the massive doors, which appeared to the cambion to be made of solid brass. He could not imagine anything so heavy remaining upright.

On the far side of the passage, he was assaulted by a

cacophony of sights, sounds, and smells. The first thing he noticed was blessed coolness. The city did not radiate endless heat like the rest of the plane. Vhok wondered what sort of magic would be required to accomplish such a feat. He didn’t ultimately care, though. He welcomed the change.

A broad thoroughfare led from the larger gate, and like any city, it was lined with buildings. Businesses of every conceivable nature filled those shops, and the patrons who visited them spilled out into the wide street. Vendors hawked their wares from wagons and carts, bartering with customers in a constant din that made Vhok’s ears roar. It all looked so familiar to the cambion, and yet everything was completely different.

The assortment of life dazzled the half-fiend. Never had he seen such a variety of folk. Humans mingled with demons, devils, and efreet everywhere. Salamanders, their serpentine torsos snaking out behind them, moved freely among the others. The cambion even spotted a fire giant gliding through the morass of citizens, window shopping.

Slaves, many of them azer, moved through the street, too. Some accompanied their masters, often led by chains attached to collars, while others traveled independently, wearing only heavy brass bracelets to denote their status.

None of the legion gave Vhok or Zasian a second glance.

The smells of sweat and exotic food wafted to the half-fiend. He spied a street vendor doling out skewers of meat to any with coin. Some of the flesh had been charred beyond recognition, and some of it still burned as he sold it. But the merchant had enough human customers that he offered more palatable fare, too.

Vhok’s stomach rumbled.

“Hey, you two,” a voice called. “You need a guide, yes?” Vhok glanced over to a young man, a human, standing

off to one side. He pointed and gestured to the two arrivals, nodding vigorously.

The cambion smirked. “You know your way around this maze?” he asked, filled with doubt. “You’re more likely to lead us into some blind alley so your friends can try to strong-arm us out of a few coppers.”

The young man looked wounded. “I would never presume to insult such powerful lords,” he said earnestly. “I offer you comfortable travel to anywhere in the city,” he said, producing a small bronze statue from his pocket.

Vhok peered closely at it and noted that it appeared to be a casting of a hippogriff. A horselike creature with the wings and head of a great eagle, the statue was posed so that the beast reared up on its hind legs. “How is that going to help us?” he asked, still suspicious.

In answer, the young man tossed the statue down and uttered some unintelligible word.’

Immediately, the statue grew in size and bloomed to life. In the time required for Vhok and Zasian to step out of the way, the thing became an actual hippogriff, and a massive one.

Vhok saw that it sported a special saddle, along with a pair of wicker panniers hanging from either side. The hippogriff snorted once, then screeched loudly. It pawed the ground with talons rather than hooves.

“You see? I can get you anywhere you wish to go, and fast,” the young man said, beaming.

Vhok looked at Zasian.

The priest shrugged. “Might as well,” he said. “It will take us days to fight our way through the city otherwise.”

Vhok considered the man’s words and nodded. “All right,” he said, turning to their would-be guide. “You get us to the Sultan’s Palace without mishap, and I’ll make it more than worth your while.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “The Charcoal Palace?” he said with a hint of awe. “Why do you wish to go there?”

“Why, to see it, of course,” Vhok answered with a silly grin. “What visit to the City of Brass would be complete without seeing the fabled palace of the most powerful efreeti in the multiverse?”

The young man still seemed doubtful, but he nodded and climbed onto the back of the hippogriff. Settled in his saddle, he gestured for his two customers to board.

“You want to go to the palace right away?” Zasian asked quietly.

The cambion nodded. “Yes,” he replied. “After our dealings with Hafiz the overseer, how do you rate our chances of success bargaining with the sultan?”

“I see your point,” the priest said.

“Exactly. So I think we should consider other means of getting in.”

The Banite gave the half-fiend an incredulous look. “You realize that you’re plotting to break into the palace of the most powerful genie in the city, don’t you? Perhaps the most powerful genie in the multiverse!”

Vhok patted Zasian on the shoulder and grinned. “We don’t have to get back out, do we?” The priest rolled his eyes and shook his head. “So we only need to know where we’re going, and stay ahead of the guards. We’ll find an inn nearby after we’ve scouted a bit. We can rest tonight, cast an augury to make sure Aliisza is where she needs to be, and slip in tomorrow.”

“As you wish,” the priest said. He didn’t sound at all convinced.

Vhok saw that the pannier had a hinged door in its side. He stepped closer to the conveyance and looked inside. Swinging the narrow door open, he stepped into the basket

and latched the door. The rim of the pannier rose to just below his armpits.

Zasian walked around the hippogriff and boarded the opposite container. Once both travelers were safely in their baskets, the young man gave a sharp command to the hippogriff. The magical beast screeched and reared up slightly. The sudden shift threw Vhok off balance and nearly tilted him out of his seat within the basket.

“Hold on tight, Masters!” the boy cried. Then the hippogriff launched itself and its burden into the air, and they were off.

As smooth and delightful as the magical carpet ride had been, the journey within the pannier was equally unpleasant. The hippogriff’s motion was sudden and jerky, and Vhok found it nearly impossible to maintain his balance. Their guide steered the beast haphazardly, shifting and climbing, rolling and diving incessantly. With each change in course, the cambion found himself crumpled in a heap at the bottom of his wicker basket. He finally managed to remain upright by bracing his knees to both sides and clinging to the rim with both hands.

Despite his discomfort, Vhok found the view of the great city to be splendid. The metropolis bustled with life and activity in every direction. Great thoroughfares zigged and zagged between massive palaces of marble, sandstone, and brass. Markets as large as some small communities back on Faerűn spread out between the edifices. The half-fiend was sure that tens of thousands of citizens roamed the market stalls, exchanging coins for all manner of goods.

Canals of flame coursed throughout the city, creating a network of glowing avenues between the solid routes. Small boats plied those fiery paths, poled along by navigators working hard to deliver cargo and passengers to their destinations.

The whole city teemed with life and trade.

At last, the trio drew near the Charcoal Palace. The building was immense, rising like some magical many-spired basalt mountain out of the city. A latticework of walkways, plazas, and shiny, brassy domes seemed to defy gravity. A great fountain of purple fire plumed in front of the main gates, where a dozen well-armed and armored efreet stood guard.