“I expect there will be considerable overlap between the component needs of the wards, in this mode, with many of the other defenses and attack strategies the new demonic defense team will need?” Tureledor asked.
Lenamare nodded. “Indeed. I will work hard to coordinate. Jehenna will be overseeing the re-provisioning.”
“Speaking of demonic defenses,” Zilquar said. “Should we consider inviting the Rod and priests of Tiernon outside our gate inside? While I am not a fan of organized religion, an army of priests might be very useful against a demonic army.”
“Agreed,” Gandros said. “Given that Damien had been our main contact and he is still missing… Alexandros, can I prevail upon you to continue to be our emissary to the followers of Tiernon?”
The elder mage nodded. “Of course. We are going to need all the help we can get. Previously, Exador’s demons were only spying; I assume they will be coming back, with reinforcements.” He looked at Lenamare. “At some point, I should like to review the wards with you once more. We need to have an understanding of how they will perform under sustained attack.”
“Of course,” Lenamare agreed with a very tight smile. Clearly he was not pleased at having his work reviewed or questioned, but when the greatest living mage of the last several hundred years took an interest in one’s work, one did not say no.
“What was that in the council chambers?” Jehenna asked as soon as they returned to their suite.
“What ever do you mean?” Lenamare asked with mock innocence.
“Were you bitten by some altruistic humility bug?” Jehenna said. “I don’t believe I have ever seen you so friendly and cooperative towards our ‘esteemed colleagues,’ as you called them.”
Lenamare smile grimly. “Believe it or not, I actually need their assistance.”
Jehenna shook her head, not understanding.
“This new situation makes it imperative we unlock the book; I can use much of this activity as a cover for more intense work on opening the book. Further, if, by some miracle, Randolf’s trap can actually be made to work, well — getting rid of Exador buys us enormous time.”
“Are you forgetting his two archdemon friends? One of which is, presumably, a former Anilord?” Jehenna asked. “No one mentioned them in the meeting, and I wasn’t about to bring it up, but I would have to assume that all three of them will come at us. Knowing Exador as we do, his preferred vengeance would be in seizing the book from us and using it against us.”
Lenamare nodded and then shrugged. “So we build three traps. I have an escape mechanism ready if necessary. I just need you to make sure we have enough materials to keep the wards up.”
Jehenna was silent, frowning in thought. Eventually she sighed and said with resignation, “I am guessing we will not be sleeping much the next few days?”
Chapter 121
Tom had begun to wonder if his council meeting would ever be over. If it was this tedious to rule one volcano, why would anyone want rule a planet, let alone a universe or multiverse? He shook his head in amusement. All of this would probably be more interesting if he hadn’t had such a busy day.
They had finally gotten the off-world shamans all back to their own worlds, and Tal-Gor was currently flying back home with Schwarzenfürze. Damien had cast a low-level illusion on his face and then hooded up, and he and Vaselle had snuck into an inn. They would hole up there until Crispin popped out of the wards around Freehold to contact Djinnistan. Tamarin had left word with someone in Djinnistan that Crispin should contact her immediately. Tamarin would then let Tom know, and Tom would get with Vaselle to open a gateway for him and Damien to return to Freehold.
It had taken a whole afternoon of rather tedious planning and work to get his guests home, and then as soon as Tom returned home to Mount Doom, he had been dragged into a conference with his commanders, including Darflow Skragnarth. They had to cover all sorts of details around longer-term housing for the new recruits, plus chores and work assignments.
Perhaps it was all the bickering about who got what assignments, like cleaning up and reopening the DoomSpa, that put him on edge. The DoomSpa had been closed since Orcus’s death and the depowering of Doom. Hard to have a spa with no temperature controls or water. It had gotten pretty dusty and disheveled over the millennia. Now they wanted to open it up — swimming pools, hot tubs, freezing tubs, lava pools, steam rooms, dry saunas, acid washes, mercury baths, the usual. Apparently, it was like a very premium version of Hellsprings Eternal. There was also a gym and massage rooms. Those had been used occasionally, but were now going to be rehabbed.
Anyway, these discussions went on for some time before they finally moved on to Völund and the mint. Actually, that was apparently the first of several things Völund wanted to bring up. Tom feared this was going to be an all-nighter. The mint alone involved questions of economics and inflation, minimum wages for Doomites, figuring out how to get them back into general circulation in the Abyss — presuming that it ever became safe for anyone to go to the Courts or other cities.
That was the odd thing. Apparently, there were other cities in the Abyss, just none as big as the Courts. Not as far as anyone knew, at least. It seemed like new information was flying at him every day. New insanities were just popping out of the woodwork. Or, he guessed, the stonework.
“As I was saying…” Zelda raised her voice to talk over Flora Lifender.
Clohng, clohng, clohng… what sounded like a deeply sonorous clock tower bell started gonging from somewhere beneath them. He could feel the vibrations in the floor and his seat.
“Crap! Just what we needed!” Völund snarled. He whipped out his hand mirror, waved his hand over it a few times and then stared into it. In the mirror, Phaestus’s head appeared.
“You getting the alarm?” Völund asked him.
“Yes, I’m on my way!” Phaestus replied.
Völund shook his head. “The consoles up here are not yet functional. We haven’t rekeyed the links to the Rod of Tommus. There has been no time, and quite frankly, no immediate need.”
“Of course,” Phaestus replied in the mirror. “It was keyed to the Wand and Orcus, and the signatures have now changed. Well, no time like the present to rekey it. Changing course to the Oubliette — meet you there!”
Völund put his mirror away and looked at Tom and a few others. “You heard him, we’re off to the Oubliette!”
“Fun!” Tizzy exclaimed. The octopod had been hanging out in a corner, smoking his pipe during the meeting.
“What’s the Oubliette? And what is that gonging?” Tom asked.
“The gonging is the cloister bell,” Darg-Krallnom said, shaking his head. “Haven’t heard that thing in close to seven thousand years!”
“The cloister bell?” Tom asked incredulously. “What? Is the TARDIS in trouble?”
“The what?” Zelda asked Tom. Tom shook his head, indicating it was of no importance.
“I met that guy once,” Tizzy observed. “Seemed a mite unstable if you ask me; kept backtracking on himself.” Tom glanced back at Tizzy and just shook his head.
“Let’s get moving, we don’t know how bad it is!” Völund snarled impatiently. He led the way through a door and down a long corridor, Tom and all the commanders following.
“So what is the Oubliette?” Tom asked again.