Curse of the Shadowmage - Mark Anthony [29]
"Yes," Morhion said. "It could work."
"Er, and you don't even have to bother with that silly sigil of yours," Qip added hastily, gesturing to the magical symbol on the table. "I can just bring my friends through the gateway myself…"
So that's the little cretin's plan, Morhion thought. Any imps summoned by Qip outside the sigil would not be bound by the symbol's magic. Imps were capricious and maleficent creatures. Freed of the mage's binding magic, they would be all too happy to turn on Morhion and tear him to bits.
A musing smile touched Morhion's lips. "I like your plan, Qip," he began. The imp's ruby eyes flared with victory. "But," Morhion added quickly, "you will open the rift within the sigil, not without."
Hatred burned in the imp's gaze. "And what if I don't?"
Morhion's smile broadened nastily. "With a single spell, Qip, I can ignite your tail with a fire so hot you'll think the candle's flame a cold winter wind by comparison." He lifted a hand menacingly.
Qip's crimson eyes bulged out of his skull. "Now, there's no need to for that," the imp said hastily. "Did I say to ignore the sigil?" He thumped his forehead with a fist. "What was I thinking? Of course I'll use the sigil. Why, I would never think of not using the-"
"Just open the rift, Qip," Morhion said testily.
The imp gulped, then clambered back inside the glowing magical symbol on the table. The creature rang the bell three times, and the dark rift in the air opened once more. At once, dozens of imps began to pour out, swearing colorfully when they found themselves bound by the mage's spell. Morhion allowed himself a satisfied smile. This was going to be fun.
Morhion was reluctant to tear the pages out of the ancient book, but there was no other solution. Besides, the old binding was cracking, and he could have the pages resewn. Soon the mage's study was littered with imps. The little creatures perched on every available surface-shelves, ledges, chairs-some even hanging from the rafters like bats. Each clutched several pages of the book, scanning furiously. Whenever one of them came upon the rune-words that Morhion had specified, the imp would flutter crazily through the air to deliver the parchment excerpts to the mage. Within a quarter hour the imps were finished, and Morhion had a dozen such pages, each bearing a reference to the ancient being of shadow magic. Some were pages he recognized from past readings, but a few contained passages he had never seen before.
"You and your kin have done well, Qip," Morhion told the imp.
"Oh, thank you, Great One," Qip replied with mock adulation. "You know your approval means everything to me. I crave nothing else."
The imp's tone was sarcastic, but Morhion was surprised to see a glint of sadness in the creature's crimson eyes. He realized what a difficult existence it must be, constantly being summoned and forced to do another's bidding. Then Morhion made an unusual decision. He moved to the magical sigil, erased some of the lines, and redrew them.
"What's the meaning of that?" Qip asked suspiciously.
"It means," Morhion explained, "that once I send you back to your plane of existence, no one-not even the most powerful wizard-will be able to summon you or your kindred for three hundred years."
Qip's eyes went wide. "You'd really do that for us?" the creature asked in astonishment.
Morhion shrugged indifferently. "I just want to make certain you don't come back to pester me in my lifetime."
Qip grinned, displaying countless needlelike teeth. "Thanks, wizard. You're not so bad after all." The imp gestured elaborately to the others. "Come on, everyone! No summonings for three centuries. It's vacation time!"
Morhion rang the bronze bell once, and the imps vanished in a puff of acrid smoke. He found himself laughing softly at the curious creatures. Then he picked up the pages that the imps had brought him,