A form materialized in the doorway amidst the smoke and flame, and slowly took on definition, features. Brennus recognized the towering, muscular, red-skinned frame and membranous black wings of a pit fiend. He ended his summoning with the final words of binding.
"You are called, Baziel and you are bound to answer my…"
The devil stepped through the doorway and into the triangle and Brennus's voice died. The fiend's face resolved not into the bestial, horned visage of Baziel, but into a handsome mien that could have been human but for the black horns that jutted from the brow, but for the pupilless white eyes that stared out of the cavernous sockets and pinioned Brennus to the floor of the chamber.
Brennus recognized the fiend-the archfiend-immediately. Shadows whirled around Brennus, the physical manifestation of the jumble in his mind. The archfiend gazed around the room with only mild interest. He seemed to take up too much space, to be too heavy for the floor, too real, too present.
The homunculi lost their stomach for the summoning.
"Wrong devil!" they squealed, and darted into the folds of Brennus's cloak, trembling with fear.
Brennus struggled to hold his ground under the weight of the fiend's gaze. He licked his lips, fought for calm, and called to mind the various defensive spells at his disposal.
None of them would be of any use. The archfiend was beyond him. His father, with assistance perhaps, could match the fiend on the Prime Material Plane, but no other in Shade Enclave.
Only the binding circle and the constraints of the conjuration protected Brennus from soul death.
Or so he hoped.
Mephistopheles showed fangs in a smile, as if reading Brennus's mind. His voice, deeper even than Rivalen's, resonated with power ancient even by Shadovar standards.
"What a pleasant locale," the archfiend said. With his clawed forefinger, he pulled a tendril of diaphanous shadow from the air, spun it around his finger, and watched it dissolve. "Shadows seem to be my lot in these days."
Brennus cleared his throat. "The summoning called Baziel."
He realized the stupidity of the words only after they exited his mouth.
"Baziel is in service to me, now, and resides in my court at Mephistar."
"I… was not aware of that, Lord of Cania. It was not so when last I summoned him."
The archfiend's features hardened, and when they did they reminded Brennus of someone, though he could not draw forth the name.
"You should have inquired, shadeling. By summoning him, you have offended me. I am here to receive your apology."
Two thousand years of co-rule in Shade Enclave rendered Brennus unused to demands. He held the archfiend's gaze with difficulty.
"I intended no offense, Lord of the Eighth." He waved a hand and released the binding. "You are released."
He expected Mephistopheles to dissipate, return to Cania. Instead, the archfiend remained before him, towering, solid, threatening.
"You are dismissed," Brennus said, and put power into his voice.
The archfiend drew in his wings. "I do not wish to leave. There are matters we should discuss."
The homunculi squeaked and tried to burrow farther into Brennus's cloak. Despite his trepidation, Brennus was intrigued by the archfiend's words.
"You wish-"
Words failed him as Mephistopheles reached through the magical field that encapsulated the summoning triangle and binding circle. The magic flared a feeble orange as the archfiend broke through, the whole of Brennus's binding mere cobwebs to the archfiend's power.
"First, apologize," Mephistopheles said.
Brennus backed up a step, activated the communication ring on his finger. His heart slammed against his ribs. The shadows in the room darkened, churned.
Rivalen, I am in my summoning chamber in the enclave. Attend me with the Most High. I have-
"Your ring is not functioning," Mephistopheles said. He picked up one of the candles from the thaumaturgic triangle, and snuffed the flame with thumb and forefinger. "Apologize."
Brennus retreated another step, drew the shadows around him, and prepared to ride them to the mansion of the Most High where he would get aid to face the archfiend.
"Your spells will not serve you either, nor your powers over darkness," the archfiend said, his voice rising. He extended his wings, and dark power, deeper and blacker than shadows, haloed his form. "Apologize!"
The power in the archfiend's voice shook the manse, cracked the quartz roof of the summoning chamber, and dusted Brennus and the entire room in ice.
"My apologies, Mephistopheles," Brennus said, the humiliating words bitter on his tongue. He refused to bow, even halfway. "I intended you no offense. I merely wished to question Baziel on certain matters beyond my Art to answer alone."
Power retreated back into the archfiend's form and his voice returned to normal. He seemed to shrink, to shed some of the threat implicit in his mere existence.
"We understand one another now." He smiled and inclined his head. "I accept your apology, Prince of Shade. And the matters about which you wished to query Baziel are the matters that I wish us to discuss. Kesson Rel?"
Brennus looked up, his mind racing. He knew all fiends to be liars. If Mephistopheles wished to answer Brennus's questions, it was because his answer, whether true or false, served the archfiend's purpose. What stake did Mephistopheles have in matters in Sembia?
"Why make this offer?"
"It amuses me to see you correctly informed."
Brennus bluffed. "I have no questions."
Mephistopheles smiled. "You lie poorly."
The shadows around Brennus swirled.
"You bear an interesting trinket," the archfiend said, and nodded at Brennus's chest.
It took Brennus a moment to process the conversational detour. The archfiend meant his mother's necklace. He tried to keep eagerness from his tone. The necklace suddenly felt warm against his flesh. He could feel his heart pounding against it.
"You know something of it?"
"Now you have questions?"
"Do you?"
Mephistopheles made a dismissive gesture. "Perhaps."
Brennus took a step toward the summoning circle, the whiff of a revelation drawing him forward.
"Who murdered my mother?"
"Kesson Rel."
Brennus stopped short. "Kesson Rel?"
"We were discussing Kesson Rel."
Brennus shook his head. "No, no. We were discussing my mother."
"Were we?"
"Yes. Yes. Tell me about my mother!"
Mephistopheles crossed his muscular arms across his chest. "No. First things first."
Brennus realized he was breathing rapidly. The shadows around him whirled and spun.
"Kesson Rel," he said.
The archfiend nodded. "Continue."
"We want him dead."
"He is powerful, infused with the power of a god."
"A god? Not a goddess?"
Mephistopheles smiled. "Kesson Rel stole his power from the Shadowlord. Shar lays claims to it, now. Of course, how the Shadowlord came by it is… another tale."
Brennus processed the new information, and would ponder its implications later. He looked up at the crack in the quartz ceiling, at the dusting of ice that still rimed the room, back at the fiend. "Can it be done? Can Kesson Rel be killed?"
The archfiend beat his wings, once, stirring a breeze that smelled of corpses. "Everything dies. Even worlds."
Brennus did not understand that last. "How then, if he is as powerful as you say?"
Irritation wrinkled Mephistopheles's high brow, narrowed the orbs of his eyes.
"Because his power is not his own. He came by it as all faithless thieves do. By stealing it. He thinks to have locked it away, but the key yet remains. You will find it in Ephyras."