Amber and Iron - Margaret Weis [61]
“I want Mina,” declared Zeboim.
“Mina?” Nuitari repeated, amazed. First Takhisis. Then Chemosh. Now Zeboim. Did every god in the universe want this girl?
“You are holding her prisoner. You will bring her to me. In return, you may keep your Tower,” Zeboim offered magnanimously. “I won’t make you tear it down.”
“How kind of you, sister,” Nuitari said in honeyed, poisonous tones. “What do you want with this human female, if you don’t mind my asking?”
Zeboim looked up at the sunlit surface of the ocean.
“Just how many of your Black Robes do you think are currently sailing the high seas, Brother?” she asked. “I know of six right now.”
She lifted her hands and the seawater began to bubble and boil around her. The sunlight vanished, overrun by storm clouds. Nuitari had visions of his wizards pitching off rolling decks.
“Very well! You will have her!” he said angrily. “Though I don’t know why you want her. She belongs to Chemosh, body and soul.”
Zeboim smiled a knowing smile, and Nuitari guessed immediately that she and Chemosh had made some sort of bargain.
“That’s why the god did not come to claim his trollop,” Nuitari muttered. “He has made a deal with Zeboim. I wonder what for. Not my Tower, I trust.”
He eyed his sister. She eyed him back.
“I’ll go fetch her,” said Nuitari.
“You do that,” said Zeboim. “And don’t be long about it. I grow bored so easily.”
She gave his Tower a little shake for good measure.
Upon entering the Blood Sea Tower, Nuitari summoned his wizards.
They did not respond.
He thought this ominous. Caele was usually always on hand, falling over himself to be the first to gush over the return of the Master, and Basalt, solid and reliable, would be waiting to launch into grievances against Caele.
Neither appeared in response to their master’s summons.
Nuitari called again, his tone dire.
No answer.
Nuitari went to the laboratory, thinking they might be there. He found it an ungodly mess—the floor awash in spilled potions and broken glass, a small fire burning in a corner, several escaped imps wandering about freely. Nuitari put out the fire with an irritated breath, trapped the imps and locked them back inside their cages, then continued his search for the missing wizards. He had a feeling he knew where to look.
Arriving at Mina’s chambers, he found the door standing wide open. Nuitari entered.
Two stone coffins and no sign of Mina.
Nuitari pried the stone slabs off the sarcophagi. Caele, gasping for air, clutched at the sides of the coffin and pulled himself up. The half-elf looked half-dead. He tried to stand, but his legs were too wobbly. He sat in the coffin and shivered. Dwarves being accustomed to living in dark places, Basalt had taken his confinement in stride. He was far more worried about facing his irate god, and he kept his head down, his hood lowered, trying desperately to avoid Nuitari’s baleful gaze.
“Uh, if you’ll pardon me, Master, I will just go attend to the cleaning up.…” Basalt tried to sidle out of the room.
“Where is Mina?” Nuitari demanded.
Basalt glanced about furtively, as if hoping he she might be hiding under the couch. Not finding her, he looked back at the Master and almost immediately looked away again.
“It was Caele’s fault,” Basalt said, mumbling into his beard. “He tried to kill her, but he bungled it as usual, and she took his knife—”
“You snake!” Caele hissed. Crawling weakly out of the coffin, he raised a feeble hand against the dwarf.
“Stop it, both of you!” Nuitari commanded. “Where is Mina?”
“Everything happened at once, Master.” Caele whined. “Zeboim started shaking the Tower, and the next thing I knew Mina had my knife and was threatening to kill me—”
“That is true, Master,” said Basalt. “Mina threatened to kill poor Caele if I tried to stop her, and of course, I feared for his life, and then Chemosh came and forced us inside these coffins—”
“You lie,” Nuitari said calmly. “The Lord of Death may not enter my Tower. Not anymore.”
“I heard his voice, Master,” gasped Basalt, flinching. “His voice was everywhere. He spoke to Mina. He said