The Heavenly Host

Farsooth raised his eyebrows. “Good idea.” He pulled out an empty bag from his belt pouch. “Someone should tell Tal Gor!”

“After we get our share, after we get our share!” Ragala-nargoloth said with a laugh.

Chapter 113

^{DF +11}

^{Early First Period}

“So, Murgatroy has now been overrun by a new batch of alvar, dwarves and aetós?” Moradel asked Stevos, shaking his head.

“This seems to be escalating very quickly,” Sentir Fallon said. “Do we know who these people are?”

Stevos shrugged. “Apparently there are some very powerful alvar with them. People who are rumored to be close to the Principality.”

“Then I would guess that servants of Nét are involved,” Sentir said.

“Who is Nét?” Hilda asked.

“Nét is the El’adasir god of war. The alvaren god of war,” Beragamos said.

“They really did not like Orcus,” Sentir Fallon said. “Even a small possibility of Orcus returning would put them on a warpath.”

“Could there be conflicts of interest here?” Moradel asked.

“I would seriously hope not. That would be extremely difficult,” Sentir said. “I worked with them a bit in Etterdam; they are not the most pleasant people.”

“But don’t elves move on really slow timeframes? Their elders sit around and contemplate things for years before doing anything,” Hilda asked, thinking of stories she had heard.

“It’s certain they have already done a few centuries of deliberations regarding Orcus and the D’Orcs. If Orcus is back, it is doubtful they will feel a large need to deliberate,” Sentir said.

“I am thinking we may need to return to Murgatroy in the morning,” Beragamos said to Hilda.

Moradel looked at him oddly. “What do you mean, ‘we’?”

Beragamos smiled. “Things are escalating here, too, I fear. I have had to step up my role and have just spent the day in Freehold. I interviewed Ruiden, met Master Trisfelt and the wizards Lenamare and Jehenna.” He shook his head. “Remembering Hilda’s multiple engagements with them, I would now be tempted to canonize her again, if that were possible.” Hilda chuckled as Beragamos smiled at her.

“In fact, I had to physically incarnate to get through the wards,” Beragamos said.

“So now you are undercover as well?” Moradel asked, puzzled.

“I fear so; I am Gamos, Hilda’s grandfather. Also an animage.” Beragamos apparently noted Moradel’s concern. “I realize I should have mentioned this before, since Astlan is in your charge; however, I had some pressure from above and felt it necessary to move immediately.” Everyone in the room knew that if Beragamos was receiving pressure from above; there was only one above that he would be talking about. Moradel would just have to adjust to his boss’s micromanaging his assignment.

“I am due at the Hall of Justice shortly after Astlanian dawn, so I am thinking I should be back in Freehold by mid-morning, and we can then go to Murgatroy and investigate a bit more,” Beragamos said to Hilda.

∼

^{DF +11}

^{Late First Period}

Exador was leaning back in his favorite lounge chair, his feet propped up on the black leather topped ottoman, a very large raw beef sirloin steak covering his eyes. He kept the chair here in the best climate-controlled room in his Court penthouse. He had received the lounge chair and ottoman as a gift a bit over half a century ago from its designer, a man named Eames, and his wife in return for ensuring the chair’s commercial success. His music system was currently playing some very relaxing trans-neo-classical chill from somewhere in Visteroth; he had forgotten the planet’s name.

He had been in a very serious funk since his forcible return to the Abyss with a pile of meteors crushed on top of him. He had had to dig his way out of a 300-meter-deep crater that had been backfilled by crushed asteroids and some molten metals. His head still hurt from that first wallop; hence the cold steak.

There was a knock on the outer sliding glass door. He lifted the steak to peer through the dual glass doors that served as an airlock to the sky deck. Bess and Ramses were there. He would have shaken his head but it still hurt too much. He waved his hand to unlock the outer doors, allowing them into the airlock, and then when they were both inside, he unlocked the inner door.

“Now that’s what I call airtight!” Bess said to Exador before realizing he had a raw steak on his face.

“Where have you been? You missed our last meeting!” Ramses complained, having not yet seen Exador’s face. “And did you know they put the wards back up around Freehold?”

“I am guessing he knows.” Bess pointed to Exador’s meat-covered face as he continued to ignore his guests.

“What happened to you?” Ramses asked.

Exador groaned in a tired, worn-out and only moderately theatrically manner. “I have noticed the wards. And in case it is not obvious, there is no real need to waste time convincing them we are human. That opportunity has flown,” he said from under the steak.

“You look like a pile of dung flattened by a giant. What happened?” Ramses asked.