Yen Wang's scarred face creased in an earnest attempt at a smile. "My pleasure, Lord," he said in an oddly accented voice. "I am most proud of them and would be only too honored to offer my insights. As well as," he added with a bow, "my generalship."
"I would have them both willingly," said Sargatanas with a nod.
Eventually, Eligor saw the crowd growing thinner. Dwindling like the fading light from the oculus, those demons who had passed before his lord descended and exited the chamber. What had started as a flood of dignitaries became a trickle until only a mere handful awaited introduction. Off to either side of the throne a moundlike, glittering collection of gifts lay arrayed, some items that Eligor recognized when he had seen their bearers arriving. Life-size gold statues of demon generals from ages past stood next to giant urns filled with the precious stones found in distant mountain mines. Beautifully crafted spears and axes fashioned from brilliant minerals and metals by local Waste artisans lay piled in neat arrangements atop fine rugs, tapestries, and carefully worked Abyssal pelts. In all, it was a fabulous tribute, but Eligor knew that, apart from its symbolic nature, it was of little value to Sargatanas.
Lord Furcas was the last to approach the throne, and far from being unhappy at his position in the queue, he seemed expansive and even eager. As he stopped before Sargatanas, Valefar, who seemed tired of court pretenses, relaxed and stepped forward to clasp hands with the portly Demon Major.
"My lord," the Prime Minister said, "Lord Furcas of the high montane wards of Faragito Coraxo has amiably agreed to wait to be presented last, because he has brought us a most unique contribution that requires some demonstration. I had a chance to discuss this but briefly with his lordship, and he and I feel certain that you will be intrigued by his discoveries. Among his other qualities Lord Furcas is a Pyromancer Exalted. Lord Furcas."
Furcas knelt heavily, bowed his head, and rose upon a signal from Sargatanas.
"Ages ago, my lords, I spent much time wandering the Salbrox Mountains of my home-wards. To most, I am sure, it seemed that my solitary journeys were no more than the meanderings of an eccentric demon." Furcas paused as his silver eyes looked inward at the memories of his travels. "But I was actually prospecting, searching out the resources that I needed to make my armies strong—stronger than my neighbors'. For millennia I found nothing but the most common minerals, and because of that I suffered the kinds of defeats that gradually diminished my realm. And then one day I was sitting by a seething mountain cleft and looked down to see a small Abyssal carrying a crystal that flickered like solid fire in its armored mouth. I followed it and found an entire nest made of the rocks. I wrested one away from the creature but dropped it immediately—its heat was so tremendous. So I caught and skinned the Abyssal and carried the mineral home in its scaly skin. After many years I unlocked its stubborn secret, extracted its essential energy, and with the addition of a few crafted glyphs I learned to control and shape the mineral. It is solid fire, my lord."
Furcas raised his clawed hands, holding them apart and at Sargatanas' eye level. A tiny mote of the glowing mineral danced upon Furcas' palm. With a glance toward Valefar he murmured a few words, and almost immediately an orange, artery-thin line began to glow between his bony palms. Thin, hairlike geysers of fire sprang forth from within the demon until his entire dark body was alight with a shimmering corona of thin fire. He then spread his hands farther apart and the straight, thickening line grew until it was twice his arm's length. A tapered, pyramidal tip appeared at one end, sharp as a fang and white-hot. He grasped the newly formed javelin in a glove of glyphs, tightly conjured to negate the insufferable heat.
"I need a target for my malpirg," said Furcas plainly, holding up the fiery javelin.
"Eligor, have your Guard place one of those upon the floor below," Sargatanas said, indicating one of the golden statuary generals he had been given. "I am sure old Field Marshal Kethias would be flattered to be used in this way."
Moments later three flying demons were, on the instructions of Furcas, positioning the life-size statue far out on the polished floor—farther, Eligor thought, than was reasonable. He looked dubiously at the portly demon who watched, confidently hefting the incandescent shaft.
Sargatanas stood and moved to Furcas' side. The short Pyromancer took a moment to gauge his throw, and with a graceful gesture that belied his bulk he pulled his arm back and cast the malpirg far up and out into the air of the dome. At the top of its arc he uttered a word and the malpirg split in two, each gaining momentum as they fell until they appeared as long glowing lines. Both hit the statue squarely in the chest, erupting in a spectacular, smoky shower of molten gold.
"This I have taught my troops," said Furcas. "I have ten legions of malpirgim ready to serve you."
A great drifting cloud of smoke retreated and Eligor saw his master's faint smile as he viewed the shattered and bubbling statue.
"Excellent, Furcas, excellent," Sargatanas said quietly. "You bring me a great gift and in return you shall ride by my side in the next engagement, commanding those same ten legions."
"Thank you, my lord." With that Furcas bowed deeply, his pleasure obvious.
"Lord, someone is moving out there in the smoke," said Eligor abruptly. His keen eyes had picked up a pale shape moving toward them. Immediately the Flying Guard rose, as one, into the air, their lances poised and ready.
"No one was left to be announced, my lord. The chamber should be empty," Valefar said quietly.
The Guard closed rapidly upon the approaching figure.
"Stay their hands, Eligor! No matter who this is, I am reasonably sure we can handle him," said Sargatanas drily.
The figure seemed to grow from the white smoke itself, becoming more solid and distinct as the clouds dissipated. Clad in pale skins, hood drawn up, it looked like little more than a common traveler.
"So this is my reward for my patience!" the figure said, its husky voice carrying easily. Eligor could not be sure, but he thought he recognized her accent, for surely it was a female beneath the swaths of Abyssal skin. Just as she climbed the last few steps of the pyramid and dropped her hood he remembered. Shaking out her thick, white hair, Lilith looked up at them and smiled. She dropped the skins in a twitching pile at her splayed feet. "I thought I would melt away wearing these for so long indoors."
Lilith stepped away from the robes and stood before them pale as bone. Clad simply, she exuded that same mixture of fragility and power, eroticism and fierceness, that Eligor had felt the first time he met her.
Sargatanas knelt, followed by the other demons around him. "Consort Lilith—" he began.
"Consort no longer, my lord," Lilith corrected, the words tinged with the barest trace of triumph. "Rise, Sargatanas. I no longer hold any position of rank in Hell. My being here should tell you that."
"Lilith," the Demon Major said, once more standing. The others around him rose and, with bows, began to descend the flight of steps and cross the broad floor. "I did not think you were ready yet to be out and about in Adamantinarx. When Valefar told me of your arrival I expected that you would want to remain hidden until the unrest with Dis was resolved."
"True It does not yet know of my whereabouts, though It probably suspects the truth. If I may say, there is no point to my remaining in hiding, my lord. Your power and your disregard for Beelzebub's orders have made your case plain enough to Dis; the Fly's regard for you is already deeply questionable—"
"And will surely become more so when he discovers that you, his Consort, are residing within this city's walls."