Something like a smile ran over the lips of the thing's face. The head turned slowly away.
"Magus," said the thing, "concern yourself not with the ring. Turn your pleasure to other matters. You probe the reaches of unseen planes and manipulate the destiny of worlds. Neither the ring nor its wearer will be your concern past the setting of the sun this day."
There was a long silence during which neither monster nor summoner moved.
"That is not the answer I asked of you," said the Magus.
For a time, there was no response from the thing. Then its heads chuckled heavily, and the sound rolled across the room.
"I have spoken," it said, then vanished into the circle of violet light and darkness as if it had been a shadow.
The Magus stood before the circle long afterward, head bowed in thought. Just as it occurred to Tasslehoff that he would have to breathe or explode, the Magus turned and walked to a hidden door that closed quickly behind him.
Tasslehoff, bathed in sweat, leaned against the wall. If the Magus caught him now, he would die. He looked down at the emerald ring and wondered how long he would be able to hide before the Magus found him at last.
Twenty minutes later Tasslehoff arrived at another barred window, this one looking into a musty library lit by candles on a tabletop. Struggling and gasping, the kender squeezed through the bars and dropped onto a bookshelf, climbing down to the floor from there.
He wiped gray dust from his hands and looked around. Shadows flicked against the stone walls. Towering shelves filled with browned volumes bound in exotic leathers and sealed with glyphs surrounded him. As he looked at the tomes, his curiosity got the best of him again.
He cautiously pulled a large volume from a stack on the table before him. A glance at the cover confirmed that the writing was unreadable and probably magical in nature. He opened the book, and ancient pages rustled and fell open in the candlelight.
Tasslehoff flipped the book shut with a gasp. Hesitantly, he reached for another, hoping it was less loathsomely illustrated. To his relief, the next book was written in the common tongue of the land and had no pictures at all.
"Being a compendium of mystic protections and sorcerous inscriptions for the summoning of creatures from the Dark Worlds," he read aloud. The book appeared to be well used. A thought occurred to him, and he flipped through the volume, his eyes running over the pages in search of the name of the thing he had seen. At the end of the text was a list of creatures one could summon, and the thing's name was among them.
Silently, he read the passage under the list of names, absorbing every word of it. His hand grew cold and damp at the implications of the text. Finished, he closed the book and returned it to the stack with care, arranging the other volumes to disguise his prying.
"Well," he said aloud, wiping his hands. Some of hisconfidence was returning, though strained by the cir cumstances. "Summoning is more dangerous than I thought. If the wizard messes up, boot! Off he goes, taken away forever. Demons don't forgive…"
His eyes glazed slightly as he thought about some variations on this possibility. Mentally, he crossed off the occupation of sorcerer from those he wished to leam moreabout. This was better left to people like
He heard a door, hidden by racks of books, open. Tasslehoff dropped to all fours and crawled under the table.
The floor creaked. Thick robes rustled and fell silent. There was no sound for what seemed like ages of time.
"Tasslehoff," said a wavering voice.
There was no reply.
"You poor wretched puppy, you cannot escape me." The door creaked and thumped shut. "You watched in the Room of Conjurations when I spoke with the demon lord. I knew you were there. Come out now. No use hiding, Tasslehoff."
Robes swished softly and slowly behind a bookcase. His eyes sparkling, Tasslehoff pressed against a table leg.
"You're behind the bookcase, under the table." The wavering voice hardened. "Come out."
A long shadow, stepping from behind the shelves, appeared against a far wall.
"Tasslehoff." The Magus raised his hand and pointed a finger.
Green light burst across the room. Tasslehoff fell back on the floor as the room blinked out and a new one flashed in.
Now he was in the Room of Conjurations. He ran for a corner and tried to climb the wall. Falling back, he ran for the doorway he hoped would be an exit.
The Magus stepped through that very doorway into the chamber. Tasslehoff stopped dead, crouched and ready to jump in any direction.
"Pleased you could join me," said the Magus.
"I must confess," the Magus said, "that I don't understand why the ring you're wearing teleports you about as it does. You're at its mercy, yet it pulls you out of my reach and keeps you safe. It's kept you alive for days and days, bringing you to this castle to me. I don't understand it, and I know I don't like it."
Tasslehoff watched his opponent like a hawk. "I'm not dancing about it either," he said. "I'd rather be home in a tavern."
"I don't doubt that," the Magus retorted, walking slowly around the kender. The sorcerer scratched at his cheek with a bony finger. "Circumstances, however, dictate otherwise. I want to finish this now, before the sun sets. You're the first person ever to invade my castle. You deserve a special fate."
"You wouldn't want to be friends and let me go home, would you?" Tasslehoff asked faintly.
The Magus smiled, the skin pulling across his face like dry paper. "No," he said.
Tasslehoff darted for the open door. The Magus gestured, and Tasslehoff slammed into the door as it flew shut. Stunned, he found his nose wasn't broken, though his eyes streamed tears.
Light arose behind him. Tasslehoff turned and saw that the firepots of the conjuring circle were burning. A dark figure with arms stood before the circle, chanting in a low voice.
Tasslehoff felt in his pockets for some last trick, something to pull him out of danger. He found six feet of string, a silver piece with a hole in it, a sugar bun, a crystal button, someone else's tinderbox, a bluejay feather, and a river pebble two inches across. No miracles…
He beat and kicked the door until he ached. Thunder rattled his teeth; waves of cold and heat washed over him.
When he heard the Magus call the name of the thing, he gave up. Setting his back to the door, he turned to face the spectacle. If he couldn't escape, he could at least go out like an explorer. He would have lived longer as a scribe, but this was better in a way. Scribes lived such boring lives. That thought comforted him as the scaled shape of the thing arose from the pit of violet lightning and darkness.
The thing's eyes glowed, one head fixed on Tassle hoff and the other on the Magus. "Twice in one day, Magus?" questioned the thing, hissing. "You have company as well. Am I now a circus exhibit?"
"Hear me!" the sorcerer shouted. "There stands an offering to you, a soul you may eat at your leisure! I bind you with words and enchantments of power, under threat of eternal torture and debasement, to take this kender to the Abyss with you until time is no more! Take him away!"
Tasslehoff's mind went blank. His fist, thrust into a pocket, clenched the stone that he had collected some time ago and admired ever since because of its smoothness. In an instant he snatched the stone out of his pocket and threw it.
The Magus gasped and staggered as the stone smacked the back of his skull. Stumbling, his hands clutching his head, he stepped forward. A slippered foot scuffed over the pale chalky lines that surrounded him.
The glowing runes and tracings on the floor went dark like a candle snuffed out. Silently and easily, an oily tentacle reached for the Magus and caught his foot. The Magus screamed.