He concentrated, then passed the orb into it. The Dreamheart disappeared.
Suddenly alarmed, he reversed the process. The sphere returned. Satisfied, he banished it again. Whatever odd space items disappeared into when he stored them, the facility remained operational in the Feywild too.
Japheth advanced, treading on a growth of purple mushrooms—the same damned caps he'd used to brew Anusha's elixir of sleep. He stamped once for good measure, then moved on.
At the gates, he called, "Open!"
Wrinkled homunculi peered at him over the walls, then ducked back. A moment later, the gate mechanism clanged and chattered. The gate slabs opened like the petals of a black dahlia. He proceeded down the entry gauntlet into the foyer lit by emerald firelight, past a shadowed pool, and up four flights of stairs guarded by silent, motionless figures in obscuring shrouds.
Japheth burst into the grand study slightly out of breath. His eyes slid past the paintings, the sculptures, and the collected oddities of centuries. He studied the balcony overlooking the chamber. The balcony was bare but for an iron door. It was closed.
The warlock blew his cheeks out in relief. He'd half expected to find the Lord of Bats standing there waiting for him, free of the compulsion Japheth had trapped him with.
He ascended the stairs, pulled out a key, and unlocked the door.
A feast was laid out in the room beyond.
Yellow light flickered across a great oak table. Chocolates were heaped on silver platters, pale green grapes tumbled from golden urns, and violet wines sparkled in crystal decanters. Chairs lined the sides of the table, each one a tale of unique workmanship.
A man sat in the chair at the head of the table. He was thin, bald, and pale, with narrow squinting eyes, pointed ears, and drab black clothes.
He wasn't really a man, of course. He was an archfey named Neifion in his least form. He sat as he always sat, where Japheth had bound him, in a Feast Never Ending.
Neifion looked up. His eyes narrowed on Japheth, but he said nothing as he chewed a portion of rare meat.
Blood dribbled from his lips.
"Lord of Bats," Japheth said. "Greetings. I have need of your aid."
"You're still alive?" Neifion asked, and sawed another slice of flank steak from his plate.
"For the moment. Had any more visits from your friends?"
The archfey shrugged, then quaffed a large quantity of wine from the decanter at his left, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. If anything, the decanter seemed fuller than it was before the Lord of Bats drank from it.
Japheth could compel the creature to answer truthfully, but he decided to save his energies. Neither the interfering eladrin noble nor Anusha's half brother Behroun were there— that was obvious. Soon Japheth would be on his way.
"Malyanna has been here since you fled with your tail between your legs, now that you mention it," Neifion volunteered, his voice casual. "She and her pet human are eager for the wealth I'll deliver them when they destroy your pact stone. Me, I'm eager for a taste of your liver. I can't decide between one big braised steak or many small slices good for frying and dipping in chocolate sauce. What do you think?"
Japheth kept his face expressionless. He said, "If Malyanna and Behroun planned on breaking the pact stone, they would have already. They're playing you, Neifion. They have no intention of ever helping you."
The Lord of Bats grimaced. He plunged his fork into a glistening miniature sugared pear and shoved it into his mouth. He announced, matter-of-factly, "I shall murder you in a manner so hideous that Orcus himself will grow pale to think on it."
"Neifion, I command you, cease with your threats for today."
The Lord of Bats froze in his seat, shuddered as if with the slightest of chills, then continued eating.
The warlock studied the pale figure, wondering if his command had accidentally dislodged Neifion from the enchanted feast.
The Lord of Bats sucked down another bloody red tomato, but his eyes never left Japheth's. His gaze was as red as the fruit he ate. Japheth looked away.
This was going to be difficult. He risked his life and probably even his soul in tampering with Neifion's magical confinement. But the eladrin noble and Lord Marhana would probably free the Lord of Bats soon enough.
Better Japheth do so in a manner that might, if he were careful, preserve his tentative control over the Lord of Bats's actions.
"Neifion," he began, "you will help me achieve an end I seek. In return for your pledged aid—aid free of any duplicity—I will release you from the Feast Never Ending. What say you?"
"I assent," the Lord of Bats instantly replied. Then he laughed, sending malign echoes darting around the hall.
Japheth knew the creature was trying to rattle him— well, he hoped so. If the Lord of Bats had planned for this moment, then Japheth was probably already dead.
The warlock squared his shoulders and pressed on. "Then make your pledge, Neifion. If I do not like it, you'll stay seated until you devise one I do."
The hairless man touched his nose with a slender, bloodless finger. He looked up as if searching for inspiration in the rafters. Then he spoke. "If you release me from the Feast Never Ending, Japheth my pact -stealing prodigal, I swear to act as your ally, to treat you as I would a friend despite my hate and hunger, and to not secretly work against your goals. I swear this on the pact stone itself, the source of your power over me and the conduit by which you borrow my abilities. I swear all these things if you release me now."
Japheth thought through the man's words. He'd have liked to scribe them and spend the night studying each one.
He'd have liked to ask the creature to also swear on his title, the Lord of Bats, and on the cloak he wore—Neifion's lesser skin, the Shroud of Wings. But time wasn't his ally. He waved his hand and spoke. "Stand from the Feast Never Ending, Neifion, and keep your word lest the Feast pull you back and bind you eternally."
The pale man slowly pushed back from the table. He wiped his chin on his dark sleeve and stood. He screamed in a voice suddenly deeper and more resonant than before, "Free!"
Japheth involuntarily took a half pace back.
Neifion grinned, cocked his head to the side, and said, "What crazed effort have you in mind, my future meal, that you would risk holding me off at the end of a sworn oath?"
Japheth considered, but before he could answer, the Lord of Bats motioned toward the exit and said, "Let's talk in the grand study. This place is no longer to my taste." The creature guffawed at his own pun, then brushed past Japheth and exited the room of his long confinement.
The warlock followed the Lord of Bats down into the grand study, wondering if he was allowing the archfey too much autonomy.
Neifion stood in the center of the ornamental chamber and stretched, grinning around with undisguised glee.
"It's good to see my collections again."
Japheth moved to a large overstuffed leather chair and threw himself down. He was exhausted. It was good to sit.
The Lord of Bats snapped his fingers. Something in the wall shifted, and a wrinkled homunculus crawled out of a hole in the wainscoting. Neifion, his grin still intact, said, "Fetch me some real food!"
The creature scampered off down the main stairs without a glance at Japheth. The skin on the warlock's face tightened. Should he gainsay Neifion's request? No. The oath Neifion swore didn't prevent the creature from taking his own initiative. However, commanding the actions of his old servitors, which was a right Japheth retained, tread dangerously close to a freedom the warlock didn't want to contemplate.
Since he'd gained control of the castle and the Lord of Bats's servitors, Japheth had refrained from calling upon many of the powers that were his due. He'd worried he might wake some resonance between Neifion and an old perquisite of his station powerful enough to shake the creature from his enchanted feast—or worse, from the poorly worded pact that had allowed Japheth to assume control of far more than the Lord of Bats ever meant to allow.