Tymora's Luck - Kate Novak [96]
The voice laughed again and quipped, "Kid, if you're a tiefling, I'm a faerie dragon."
Joel held the torch up higher and peered ahead. There, atop the dais, slumped in a giant-sized throne, was a giant-sized woman. Save for her size, which Joel estimated to be over ten feet tall, the woman appeared to be a lovely human maiden, slender and shapely. Her head lay slumped upon one arm, and her long, white hair cascaded to the floor. She wore a black velvet gown, which contrasted sharply with her milky white skin. Brilliant gem-encrusted gold jewelry glittered on her arms, about her throat, and in her hair. The beauty of her features outshone the jewelry. Joel could see a faint resemblance to Tymora. There could be no doubt this was Lady Luck's "sister."
Joel climbed halfway up the steps and whispered, "Beshaba?" "Oooo, aren't you well informed," the high-pitched voice commented with a hint of surprise in its tone.
Joel turned toward the sound and finally discovered the speaker. At the foot of the throne, beside Beshaba's legs, was a large gilded birdcage. Inside the cage was a winged male humanoid creature about a foot and a half high, with bright red skin and a long, scorpionlike tail. It had sharp teeth, an oversize nose, long, pointed ears, and two sharp-tipped, curved horns protruding from its brow, just above its eyes. Although it was completely naked, the creature showed not the least bit of shame as it stood casually leaning against the bars of its cage. Despite Jas's teasing that he only recognized female fiends, Joel knew this creature was an imp. Back home, they served as the familiars of evil wizards and priests. Joel also knew that the stings from their tails were deadly. He moved back a step, just to be sure the tail couldn't reach him through the bars.
"You wound me with your distrust," the imp said. "You have nothing to fear from me. I'm so bored and lonely that I'm grateful for your company. Allow me to introduce myself, Marin the Red. I am Ratagar Perivalious, former associate of the late Tyrannar Noxxe."
"Pleased to meet you, Ratagar," Joel said, letting a hint of sarcasm drip into his tone. He sat down on the step and set the torch down with its flaming end hanging over the edge of the dais. "What happened here?" he asked the imp.
"Ah, thereby hangs a tale," the imp replied. He pointed to Beshaba's unconscious form. "Her Highness showed up two nights ago in a foul mood. When she discovered Xvim wasn't here to meet her, she settled down to wait for him. While she waited, she took out her annoyance on Xvim's priests and followers. See that body just beside that brazier on the left? The one in the fancy green and black brocade?" The imp pointed in the direction of the body in question. "That's the late Tyrannar Noxxe. I tried to warn him not to get involved in these little spats between gods, but you know how young people are these days. You can't tell them anything."
"He didn't try to attack her, did he?" Joel asked in surprise.
"Nothing so courageous," Ratagar replied. "He tried to suggest she go home until Lord Xvim returned. Beshaba decided his beard was hideous-something else I've been trying to tell him for years. Anyway, Her Highness used a little magic to suggest Noxxe shave right there and then. Noxxe's hand slipped. Most unfortunate, wouldn't you say?"
"Definitely bad luck," Joel agreed. "Most of the others met with similar fates. Those back there were the original guards." Ratagar pointed to a heap of about twenty bodies in a back corner. They had been burned and were still smoldering. "When