"Miss Blan," Lady Anheuser stated in crisp, precise tones, "I have everything 'to do with this,' as you put it. It was done at my instigation and for my benefit. Indeed, you and your charming friend were invited to my musicale specifically so my employee would have a clear field to retrieve Miss Virgine's flask. Quite ironic, really, when you consider how her presence saved the affair from being a social disaster, but I am sure you'll agree with me that the cares of Court Society are of little importance in the overall scheme of things."
"I'm surprised to hear you say that," said Amoretta.
"Because I appear to be the very model of an aging dowager, the typical grande dame who cares for nothing but her power within the world of fashion and frippery, music and matchmaking? Perhaps I am, at that. Do not forget, however, that to assemble and keep power in any arena one must possess intelligence and will, qualities that could not fail to advise me where my personal benefit lies."
"And where is that?" the chimera asked.
"Why, right here, of course." The lady gestured to the niche opposite to the one she'd been hiding in. Unlike the others that lined the crypt corridor, this one had neither sarcophagus nor effigy. Amoretta and the doppelganger came closer, and the lady moved aside, keeping the body of the crossbowman between herself and them. This also put Lady Anheuser and her followers between the two women and the exit from the crypt, a poor tactical position for Amoretta to be in.
Arguing over that now would have just raised suspicions, though, so Amoretta instead examined the niche. There was little to see; the walls were plain stone, the air so dry in the crypt that there was no hint of mold or nitre between the blocks. Amoretta would have assumed the niche was simply unused were it not that the floor was a single slab of white marble, inscribed with an ornate circular design.
"That is...a Rune," she realized. "But I don't recognize it."
"Neither do I," agreed the doppelganger. "What is sealed here, that requires a unique Rune?"
"So you recognize it as a seal?" Tempell hissed.
"Not particularly, but what else could it be under the circumstances?"
The rat glared at her. Amoretta wondered if the chimera had slipped, if this was something she should have known were she Lillet. If so, though, Tempell made no sign.
"It is indeed a seal, placed here by the express order of the Archbishop one hundred and seventy years ago," Lady Anheuser explained. "Within this crypt lies bound the mantle of Ashtoreth."
The name buzzed across Amoretta's mind like the brush of a butterfly's wing; she felt that she should know it but yet did not. Perhaps it was the ghost of a thought from before her current physical existence, an idea which Lady Anheuser seemed to bear out with her explanation.
"She was a devil bound by Solomon. Myth says he stripped her power from her and imbued it in a mantle which he gave to Balkis, Queen of Sheba, in exchange for her favors."
"Stupid story," Tempell snapped. "If she had that kind of beauty and charm, what did she need with the mantle?"
"Ashtoreth's power is more than beauty. It is the power to influence minds, tempt souls. With it I will raise a kingdom of my own far greater than this rubbish heap, and I will reign over it forever, eternally young!"
This, then, explained the sense of the diabolic Amoretta had felt from the cathedral. While the church was in use, its consecrated state and regular performance of religious rites would have suppressed that force, but since it had fallen into ruin it was starting to leak out. It was lucky that apparently only the devil's power was there and not the devil herself, for Amoretta's dual existence as angel-made-flesh tempted them beyond measure.
The false Lillet looked from Lady Anheuser to Tempell and back again.
"So, nearly two hundred years ago, someone had an attack of good sense and sealed the mantle up where no one could get to it, but now you want it back. Only your pet magician couldn't break the seal, and so you want me to do it."
"Quite correct. My henchman did not like to admit it, but when pressed he was willing to admit that your formidable reputation, Miss Blan, was not entirely made of hot air. When you consider your very obvious affection for Miss Virgine, the next course of action seemed self-evident. Now, if you please?" She indicated the seal with a gesture.
Frantically, Amoretta tried to think of something to say. Deception of any kind was almost alien to her character. Her usual alternative to the plain, unvarnished truth was silence. She had to think of something, though; this was for Lillet!
The chimera, though, acted first and cleverly. She turned to Tempell and asked, "What did your master find out about this seal?"
"What?" it snapped, more a denial than a question.
"Oh, come on! He wouldn't have given up on the problem without working on it for hours. I'm sure Lady Anheuser doesn't want to sit here and wait all that time while I go through all the steps that someone's already done."
Tempell's nose twitched ominously.
"At least you're not wasting time." Which, Amoretta thought as it launched into a technical discussion of the seal's features, was the complete opposite of the truth.
"Blast you!" Benedictine roared, and hurled his pipe to the ground while shouting a word of command. It shattered on impact, bursting into a cloud of noxious black smoke which parted to reveal two massive demons: red-skinned, bat-winged, horned, cloven-hoofed monsters that he'd summoned and bound as an emergency defense.
Lillet's star-spirit hurled a flaming sphere at one demon while the other leapt at her, slashing with its claws. The problem was that the demons' claws were of limited use against the Morning Star's astral form, and would only be a temporary defense unless he could arrange some support.
I have your measure, witch, he thought as he quickly sketched out a necromantic Rune. Most of the summoned dead were astral entities, and he knew how to destroy as well as create them. Since he already had the Hades Gate opened, he called up a couple of phantoms, ghostly knights to aid the demons in fending off the star-spirit. The rattle of ghostly armor, the roar of bursting starfire, and the snarls of the servant devils rang out their tale of violence, but Benedictine shut them all out, concentrating on drawing his Rune.
In a few moments, it was done, and the withered, twisted form of a skeletal mage, its arms bound behind it and a noose around its next emerged from Purgatory.
"Destroy the Morning Star!" Benedictine cried. Obediently, the skullmage turned, eyes glowing balefully as it summoned the magic that would rend the spirit's astral form.
"Not so fast!" caroled a high-pitched voice, and six fairies spiraled down out of the sky. Their bows sung, sending sparkling elf-shot into the summoned corpse. It could do nothing to defend itself; its magic worked only on the astral plane. Desperate, Benedictine summoned another phantom, sending the ghost knight in defense, but it was too little, too late. Though it swatted down one of the fairies like an oversized bug, it could not act in time to keep the skullmage from being banished back into death with a rattle of collapsing bones.
Benedictine was getting desperate. His Runes blazed as he tried to summon more support, but even though the elegance of Rune magic let him call up familiars in seconds with a touch of his mind, it still took time--time that he just didn't have. The Morning Star had felled both phantoms and one of the demons that had tried to stall it, and the final demon was badly hurt. Benedictine's last phantom was busy with the fairy swarm. With a mental cry, he called back the ghosts he'd sent looking for Tanqueray, but they'd be unable to get there soon enough to save him. He glanced up towards Lillet and saw that she'd used the time to draw a fresh Rune of her own, a blazing crimson Hell Gate, and had called up a demon of her own into the fight.
No time, damn it; there's no time! If only I had more time! he babbled to himself. But he didn't have time to leisurely call up an army with his full powers. Instead he had to play his last, most extreme trump card.
Tempell! It was a plea and a summon all at once. The devil-rat was his own personal familiar, bound to him by chains far tighter than the ordinary relationship of mage and minion. Instantly the rat appeared in a flash of crimson flame.
"Protect me!" he shouted. "Destroy her minions and capture her!"
The rat growled, digging its fingerlike claws into the soft dirt. It arched its back, hissing, its eyes blazing scarlet, and then Tempell swelled into immensity, its body twisting and expanding until it filled nearly half the clearing on its own, as big as a small house. Its fur flaked off as it grew, the pink flesh beneath toughening and darkening into hardened red and blue scales until what remained was clearly not a rat at all.
Dragon!
"Destroy them, Tempell! Burn them all!" Benedictine shrieked, a bubble of laughter working its way up his throat. The dragon opened its terrible maw and exhaled, a storm of flame washing across the battle. The Morning Star seemed to shatter into a thousand fragments, the fairies fella way, dead or banished.
"You see, Lillet Blan? How could an upstart like you think to challenge me?" the mage cackled.
"Okay, guys, you're on!" Lillet called, clearly not to him. In the next moment the shrubbery on either side of the clearing was ripped away by ropes held in elven hands, revealing ranks of glittering talismans, azure crystals the size of a man's head mounted on golden pillars. They were symbols, magical siege-engines, obviously advented and concealed specifically in case Benedictine had managed to summon something big.
The talismans fired, blasts of blue flame spearing into Tempell's flanks. The dragon roared in pain and lashed out, bathing the talismans on one side in flame. Frantically, Benedictine started to call up a fresh Rune, while sending his surviving minions after the talismans as well.
His Hell Gate was complete soon enough, and two more demons called to his defense, but he could scarcely believe his eyes. Six of the talismans were shattered and destroyed, the remaining two damaged, but his minions were gone. Only the dragon moved at all, ichor seeping from dozens of wounds blasted in the huge beast's body.
And Lillet had called up seven demons.
Tempell blasted down the last two talismans even as the demons attacked. Two went after the dragon, and one after each of Benedictine's existing Runes. The remaining ones charged for Benedictine himself. He sent his own demons after them, and since his ghosts had arrived sent them down like fiery missiles. His mind reached for his Hades Gate, to summon more phantoms, and to the Hell Gate for imps, which he could conjure faster than demons. If his own demons could just hold the line--
They couldn't.
It wasn't even close.
Even as Tempell screamed its last in a defiant roar, Lillet's demons shrugged off the burning ghosts and grappled with Benedictine's fiends. They looked the same, but were not. Lillet's moved almost twice as quickly; their strength effortlessly breaking their opponents' grasp. Black flames lingered in the wounds they tore in Benedictine's demons, burning at their life-force. How could she command demons so powerful, and in such numbers?
He realized, far too late, as the corpses of his demons were tossed aside casually, as his Runes shattered, their magic broken, that Lillet Blan's reputation had more to do with truth than he'd given credit. Gibbering, he panicked, and turned to run, but the nearest demon caught him in only a couple of steps. It hauled him off the ground, spun, and slammed him down on his back, driving the breath out of him. The demons stood over Benedictine, leering with bloodlust, their tainted claws like edged slices of the night sky atop their deep red hands.
"For God's sake, call them off! Call them off!"
"Master Benedictine, I don't want you dead," Lillet said, walking over to him. "Not if you're willing to talk."
She's not even sweating, he thought, unable to suppress the tremors that shook him.
The demons parted to let her stand next to Benedictine, though two still held him down with hoofed feet on his upper arms.
"It's simple, Master Benedictine," she said. Her polite use of his title burned like acid in his heart. Only now did he realize that he'd been judging her ability through the tinted window of his own jealousy, believing that since he'd beaten the defenses in her room to steal the flask, he could do the same in a battle she was actually there to participate in fighting. "You took Amoretta's flask. Tell me where it is."
"I...It..." he stammered.
Lillet sighed.
"Do I have to threaten you? I'd rather not. I promise that if you tell me where Amoretta's flask is, then confess to the authorities and give testimony against anyone else involved, then I won't hurt you."
He looked from her to the sneering, red-faced demons and made the intelligent choice.
"The flask is in a shop in the Merchant's Quarter, 17 High Court. Lady Anheuser owns it, but no one is renting it now, so we thought it would be a good, out-of-the-way place to keep it."
"Lady Anheuser!"
Benedictine smiled at her expression.
"You didn't know that? You said that you wanted me to testify, so I thought you knew she was the one I'd be testifying against. She was supposed to be meeting with you in the crypt now, and--" He was so startled that he tried to sit up, earning a searing pain through both arms as he essentially tried to yank them out of their sockets. "Ah! Damn it! But how the hell did you do that? Tempell would have told me if you weren't there!"
She wiggled her fingers at him.
"It was magic!"
With that she had the elves tie him hand and foot, then gag him with a strip off his own robe. The demon's claw that tore the strip made an effective illustration of what would happen if he tried to get away.
"I'd like to know more about what you and Lady Anheuser were up to, Master Benedictine, but I don't have time to wait. Amoretta needs me."
"What the--?" one of the swordsmen yelped when Tempell disappeared in a flash of light in the middle of telling the doppelganger about the seal.
"A trick!" shouted the crossbowman, and fired. The bolt slammed into the chimera's chest just below her right clavicle and she staggered back with a cry of pain. Amoretta gasped in shock, and the sight of Lillet taking such an injury stung at her heart, even though she knew it was only a copy.
The other two guards reacted to the crossbowman's shot and drew their swords. Amoretta's cat waved a paw, casting a sleeping spell on the nearest one; the soldier sagged against the crypt wall and slumped to the floor.
The chimera, meanwhile, glanced down at the bolt sticking out of her chest with a kind of quizzical, what's-that-doing-there expression. She gripped the shaft just above the fletchings and pulled. The bolt came out with a wet, sucking sound, without leaving a hint of a bloodstain on the borrowed dress. She flipped it aside and smiled happily. Apparently, the doppelganger didn't have conventional internal organs to puncture.
"Kill that thing!" Lady Anheuser ordered, understanding at once. "It's not Lillet Blan, but some kind of monster. The cat, too, but bring me the girl alive!" When the crossbowman started to reload, she snapped at him, "Not that way, fool. Use your dagger!"
The knife he drew was oddly shaped, like it was made to display on a wall instead of fight with, but its edge gleamed brightly with hints of silver. Perhaps it had been enchanted, or more likely had a short-term charm placed on it, to make it effective against magical creatures.
In the next moment, though, the situation changed. The doppelganger's arm twisted and flexed, extending into a six-foot whiplike extension that coiled around the swordsman's right wrist. With unnatural strength it bounced the hireling off the wall, stunning him, while his charmed sword fell uselessly on account of a crushed wrist.
That left the odds three-to-one against the crossbowman, and Lady Anheuser realized it before he did. She turned and bolted for the stairs while her henchman was still standing dumbstruck, staring at how the chimera's arm flexed back to an ordinary shape. He was still staring when Grimalkin used the last of his energies to put him to sleep.
"I didn't know that you could do that," Amoretta told the chimera.
"Well, I can't use magic, and I have to be able to protect you somehow. I don't think Lillet would have let you go into this place without her if there hadn't been any defense."
Amoretta nodded. That was very true.
"We'd better get after her. If we catch her, we might be able to make her return my flask."
They ran up the crypt stairs and back into the cathedral ruins, just in time to see Lady Anheuser, her hood back up, rushing out of the main entrance. They chased her, but by the time they picked their way through the stone-littered floor, an unmarked carriage was rattling its way out of the square.
"She's getting away!" the doppelganger protested.
"Do you see a carriage for hire?" Amoretta said, scanning the nearly deserted area.
"No, darn it, and unfortunately, I can't fly." She looked at Grimalkin. "Why can't you be an owl or something?"
"At least we found out who has my flask," Amoretta said. "She won't go run off and smash it, because you and Grimalkin would tell Lillet who did it. She's too smart for that. We've also learned why she wanted it. So things have gone fairly well for us."
"But if we'd caught her..."
A fairy chose that moment to swoop down.
"There you are! I've been waiting for you to come out of that nasty hole forever!"
"Did Lillet send you?"
"I don't know. Mistress looks just like her, though." She pointed at the doppelganger. "She said she knows where your flask is."
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