Dark War

TEN

I've visited Demon's Roost on a number of occasions, almost all connected to a case in one way or another, and every time I've been there, a bacchanalia of epic proportions was taking place. But while there was still plenty of excitement in the air today, the atmosphere was military rather than celebratory. The Atrium was packed full of bodies as usual, but instead of a cross-section of partying Darkfolk, only Demonkin were in attendance. All subspecies were represented – reptilian, insectile, mammalian, piscine, elemental, conglomerate, humanoid, and conceptual. And while they still wore their civilian clothes, if they wore anything at all, they stood at attention in rows or conducted precise drills at the shouted commands of demons garbed in black uniforms similar to what Varvara had been wearing. Most of the demons were armed, though there was no standardization in the types of weapons they carried. I had the impression that they'd been summoned to Demon's Roost on a moment's notice and had been commanded to bring whatever weapons they could get their claws on. While a number had top-of-the-line Earth guns, bladed weapons, or futuristic hardware, quite a few carried baseball bats, lengths of metal pipe, or that old standby, a two-by-four with nails driven through it.

The makeshift army might've looked ridiculous if it wasn't for two things. One was the sheer number of them. A couple hundred demons were jammed into the Atrium, and there were at least twice that many outside drilling on the grounds surrounding Varvara's stronghold. The other thing that kept them from seeming ridiculous was the fact that they were demons – fierce, heartless, amoral, and savage creatures whose only reason for existing was to sate their appetites, especially if they could do so at someone else's expense. No blank expressions of military discipline on their faces. Their eyes blazed with battle lust, and their mouths were twisted into cruel smiles, no doubt as they imagined what they intended to do to anyone foolish enough to get in their way.

I thought of the total destructive force contained within this building and the horror that would result if it was released into the streets of Nekropolis. As important as finding Papa Chatha was to me, I knew it was even more vital that I find a way to stop the war between Varvara and Talaith before it spilled over onto the rest of the city. I thought of Devona's and my trip to the alternate Nekropolis. That world's Hyde plague would seem nothing but a minor inconvenience compared to the devastation an all-out war would cause in our world.

Magilla himself had escorted us to Demon's Roost, and he marched us across the Atrium, growling for demons to get out of our way in the name of the queen. No one challenged him or accused him of lying about acting under Varvara's authority. No demon was suicidal enough to use the name of their queen under false pretenses.

Magilla took us to the elevator that led straight to Varvara's penthouse quarters. And then, his duty done, he turned and departed without saying a word. None of us was sorry to see him go.

I was familiar with the demon guarding the elevator. Usually, he doesn't wear clothing, but since Jambha was one of the stronghold's staff, he'd been issued a black military uniform. Or at least, it appeared that way. Rakshasas are masters of illusion, so perhaps we only thought he was wearing clothes, which, if you think about, probably saves him a lot on dry-cleaning bills. Whenever I visit, he's wearing, or seems to be wearing, a necklace made of tiny decapitated heads – usually miniature versions of mine – but today all the heads were tiny copies of Talaith, their eyes rolled white, flesh pale; little beads of blood dripped from their ragged neck stumps. What else would a patriotic demon be wearing with an Arcane-Demonkin war in the offing?

Jambha's job is preventing anyone from trying to bother Varvara by using any or all means necessary, the more bloody and violent, the better. Considering that rakshasas are Hindu cannibal demons, there's usually a certain amount of biting, chewing, and swallowing involved. Jambha always gives me grief whenever I need to go up to Varvara's penthouse – though so far I've managed avoid ending up in his stomach – and since he'd dressed the part of a good little soldier that day, I expected him to demand that we present our papers to him or something similar as we approached. But all he did was give us a brisk nod, tap the elevator's up button with a claw, then returned to standing to attention and staring off into space as if we weren't there.

"Aren't you going to say something annoying?" I asked him. "It wouldn't be a visit to Demon's Roost without you threatening to eat me or one of my friends for having the temerity to even think of bothering your queen."

Jambha shrugged, though he continued looking straight ahead. "The queen knows you're coming, and she wants to see you. Why should I waste any time bantering with you? There's a war on, you know."

"You demons aren't much fun at the best of times, but you're downright dull when you get all militaristic," I said.

Jambha merely shrugged again, as if to say, That's war for you. The elevator arrived, the door slid open, and we entered. It was a bit of a tight fit for the five of us – it was Varvara's private elevator, after all, and not exactly designed for crowds – but we managed. The door slid shut and the elevator started to rise to the accompaniment of a Muzak version of the 1812 Overture.

"I've never met a Darklord before," Shamika said as we ascended. "How should I act?" She didn't sound particularly nervous, just curious – which was strange. Anyone else would've peed themselves at the thought of being in the same building as a Darklord, let alone in the same room. I've encountered all five Darklords on one occasion or another, but I know Varvara best, and I'm still intimidated by her, though I'd never give her the satisfaction of showing it. Anyone with half a mind should've been scared to death to meet the Demon Queen, and anyone with a whole mind should have been terrified right out of it. But not Shamika. She'd demonstrated that she could take care of herself against Magilla, but handling a single demon of middling rank was nowhere near the same as being able to defend yourself against the queen of the Demonkin herself. I wondered if Shamika was overconfident, naive, or a combination of the two. Though she'd supposedly been born and raised in Nekropolis, she didn't always act like it.

"Let Matt do the talking," Devona said. "Varvara finds him amusing."

Shamika frowned. "And that's a good thing?"

"It's an irritating thing," I said, "but useful. As long as Varvara is entertained, there's a decent chance she won't destroy us for bothering her."

Varney grinned uncertainly. "You're joking, right?"

I looked at him. "You've met Galm. You tell me if I'm joking."

His grin fell away as he considered my comment.

The elevator came to a stop as it reached Varvara's penthouse. The door slid open, and we stepped out and into a place I didn't recognize. Normally, Varvara's private quarters look like a parody of a romance writer's ideal bedroom: silk and satin everywhere, a huge canopied bed covered with overstuffed pillows, perfume-scented air… All of that was gone now, replaced by a war room with dim fluorescent lighting and gray walls. Computer stations lined the room, manned by furiously typing demons wearing communications headsets. A black flag with a crimson flame emblazoned in the middle hung on the wall, along with a number of motivational posters that showed fierce-faced demons and featured slogans like SUFFER NOT A WITCH TO LIVE and PUT THE FLAME TO THE ARCANE! In the middle of the room sat a large gleaming metal table displaying a detailed three-dimensional hologram of the entire city. A keyboard lay flush with the tabletop, along with several monitor screens and rows of buttons and dials – the setup would've done a cheesy spy movie's evil mastermind proud. Standing before the projection dressed in her stylish black uniform was Varvara, and next to her, wearing a similar uniform, was a male demon I didn't recognize.

Like her, he appeared human – tall and handsome in a lean, wolfish way, clean-shaven, but with thick black hair hanging down to his shoulders. Not exactly a military haircut, I thought, but then again, he did serve in a demon army, and their regulations were no doubt somewhat more broad than an Earthly army. The golden stars on his shoulders, along with the fact he stood at the map with Varvara, told me who he was.

"General Klamm, I presume?" I said.

He looked up at me, and I saw that his eyes were as black as his hair, and they shone in the light as if made of polished stone. It was an eerie effect, and I was surprised to discover it creeped me out a little.

"And you must be Matthew Richter. I'd say it was a pleasure to meet you, but I don't see any point in lying." His voice was rich and cultured, with the weary, snotty edge of a food or theatre critic who'd long ago gotten used to the world constantly disappointing him.

"That's funny. I thought lying came as naturally as breathing to demons." I looked him up and down. "You know, given your name, I expected you to look somewhat more mollusk-y."

Klamm's dark eyes glittered. "And I expected you to be a loudmouth who thinks he's cleverer than he really is. At least one of us isn't disappointed."

As desperately as I wanted to hit him with a devastatingly witty comeback, nothing came to mind, so I settled for simply glaring at him.

Varvara's emerald eyes sparkled with delight at our interplay. "I'd tell you boys to behave yourselves, but where would be the fun in that?" She left the table and came walking toward us. Perhaps sauntered might be a better word. Even when she's all business, Varvara moves like a jungle cat in heat.

I expected her to ask me what information I had for her, but instead of approaching me, she walked up to Devona, bent down – Varvara's quite tall and Devona's petite – and gave her a big hug. "Congratulations, sweetie! I'm so thrilled that you and Matt are expecting!"

"Thank you," Devona said. "We're both quite excited."

"Well, of course you are!" Varvara said. "It's not every day that a zombie and a half-vampire have a child, let alone twins."

Devona and I just gaped at her.

Varvara frowned. "Did I say something wrong?"

"I'm only having one baby," Devona said. "The doctors at the Fever House-"

Varvara interrupted Devona with an imperious wave of her riding crop. "Don't know their fangs from a can opener. While I, on the other hand, am a dread and mighty Darklord." She grinned. "If I say you're going to have twins, you can count on it."

I was struggling to accept the bombshell the queen of demons had just dropped on us. Devona was right; during all our doctors' visits, no one had ever mentioned that she was carrying two babies. I had no reason to doubt Varvara. Despite what I'd said to Klamm about demons, I'd never known her to lie to me. When you're as powerful as Varvara, you don't need to resort to lying to get what you want. But I couldn't see how the Bloodborn doctors at the Fever House could've made such a mistake.

"The doctors performed ultrasounds…" I began.

"Which only picked up one heartbeat," Varvara said. "And that's because only one of your children has a beating heart. The other is… well, I'm not sure what she is, to be honest. She's alive… in a sense anyway." Varvara flashed Devona a smile. "She's moving around in there pretty good. Her brother, on the other hand, is a bit more sedate, but they're both healthy enough. I can't tell too much about them. The magic that surrounds them is too strong and too different from anything I've ever encountered before. But they're going to be very special children, that I can promise you."

Every demon in Varvara's war room broke off what they were doing and turned to look at Devona, expressions of curiosity and in some cases outright wonderment on their faces. Klamm looked at Devona too, but his gaze was focused on her mildly swollen belly, and the look on his face was one I couldn't read, but which made me uncomfortable for some reason.

"My father visited me recently," Devona said. "Why didn't he say anything?"

"He might not have sensed the truth," Varvara said. "We Darklords, while more or less equally matched in power, possess different skills. Talaith and I are both more versatile when it comes to working magic than the boys are." She paused. "Then again, Galm might've had his own reasons for not telling you. But I assure you, it's true. You are carrying twins."

I looked at Devona and she looked at me, and we both smiled. We'd once been trapped in a virtual reality in which we were a human couple living on Earth. In that dream scenario, we'd have two children, fraternal twins, a boy and a girl. Though they hadn't been real, we'd believed they were, and when we'd realized we were living in an illusion, we'd fought to free ourselves. But in doing so, the virtual reality vanished – including our two children. Even though they'd been nothing more than dreams, losing them had still hurt like hell. There was no way the babies Devona was carrying were those two dreams made flesh, I knew that. And yet… Nekropolis is a damned strange place, and the impossible happens here with almost monotonous regularity.

I decided to go back to being a loudmouth, since it's something I seem to have particular talent for. "I'm surprised to see you so happy for us, Varvara. I didn't know you were the maternal type."

The Demon Queen gave me a look I couldn't read. What is it with me and interpreting demonic facial expressions today? I thought.

"The Creche of the Demonkin lies in the caverns beneath Demon's Roost." Her voice was even and without emotion, and I thought that I'd never heard her sound so dangerous before. "I may not personally lay every egg incubated there, but I make damn sure they receive the very best care. And if a single egg fails to hatch due to the negligence of a caregiver, the penalty for that failure is dire indeed. Do you understand?"

Since I'm dead, I don't need to swallow, but I did so at that moment anyway. "I do."

She looked at me for a long moment, and then frowned. "Is something wrong with your head? It looks a little lopsided."

I'd been so concerned with not angering Varvara further that I'd momentarily allowed my concentration to lapse, and my neck's hold on my severed head had slackened. Luckily Varvara had said something before my head had slipped off and fallen to the floor. That would've been embarrassing, and I didn't want to think about what cutting remark Klamm might've made if it had happened. I concentrated, and my head and neck gripped each other tightly again.

"I'm all right," I said, trying to sound casual.

Varvara looked me up and down, and though I didn't feel anything, I had the impression that she was mystically scanning me. When she was finished, her grin returned.

"Just try to keep it together, Matt." She then turned to look at Varney, Shamika, and Scorch. "The demoness I know, for am I not ultimately mother to all the Demonkin?"

She walked over to Scorch and gently touched her cheek. "There's a war on, dear. Go downstairs and join the rest of your fellow soldiers."

Scorch bowed her head. "Yes, my queen." She gave Devona and me an apologetic look before heading back to the elevator and getting on. As the door slid shut, she gave a thumbs-up to wish us luck. I didn't blame Scorch for leaving. She had no choice but to obey Varvara's command – not if she wanted to continue breathing, that is.

Varvara then turned to Varney and Shamika. "And who are these two charming people?"

I introduced them, and Varvara gave Shamika a long look, scowling as if she were puzzled. But then she shook her head as if to clear it and focused her attention on Varney.

"I'm glad you're here," she told him. "You have my permission to film and broadcast anything you see. When this war is over, history will vindicate the Demonkin, and I want the citizens of Nekropolis to see what we do here this day."

"My queen," Klamm began, "Do you really think that's wise? If the Arcane should somehow tap into the Bloodborn's signal…" He gave Varney a sideways look. "Assuming he isn't an Arcane spy, that is."

Varvara turned to Klamm and this time when she smiled, her mouth was full of shark's teeth. "I'm not afraid of anyone, General. Least of all the Arcane. Please do your best to remember that."

I had to give Klamm this: he was one cool customer. Anyone else would've fainted dead away to have Varvara talk to him like that, but he not only held steady, he replied in a calm voice. "Of course, my queen. I meant no disrespect. But you made me a general because of my skill at intelligence-gathering. I would be remiss if I didn't point out the potential pitfalls of allowing a cameraman with cybernetic implants access to our war room." He paused. "Especially right now."

Varvara looked at Klamm for a moment, shark teeth still bared, but then she sighed and nodded. She closed her mouth, and when she opened it again, her teeth had returned to normal.

"I suppose you're right." She looked at Varney. "If you're not a spy, I apologize for this."

She waved her riding crop, and Varney yelped as his cybernetic eye exploded in a shower of sparks. The flesh around the eye blackened as it burned, but Varney was Bloodborn, and the injury began repairing itself almost immediately. Too bad his camera eye couldn't be fixed as easily. He looked as if he wanted to protest, but he wisely kept his mouth shut. He was lucky that Varvara hadn't decided to completely incinerate him on the spot, and he doubtless knew it.

Devona stood next to Shamika, a comforting arm around the girl's shoulders. Shamika didn't seem all that intimidated by Varvara, even though the Demon Queen had just used her magic to burn out Varney's camera eye and could use her powers to do worse to us at any moment. Instead, Shamika's attention was focused on General Klamm. The girl stared at him, her gaze intense, but I couldn't tell if she was afraid of him or fascinated with him. Or both.

There was a lot about Shamika I hadn't been able to get a handle on, and it was really starting to bug me.

Klamm was aware of the girl's interest in him, and he returned her look with a knowing smirk that made her avert her gaze.

Varvara turned to me then. "You know I always enjoy catching up with you, Matt, but as you might imagine, I'm a wee bit busy at the moment, what with planning a retaliatory strike on Talaith and all. So why don't you tell me why you came to see me, and then we can both get on with the rest of our day."

I tried to decide how to begin. I couldn't tell her that Dis had asked me to investigate the disappearances of the magic-users in the hope that I might learn something that would stop this war. Dis needed to maintain the appearance of neutrality in the dispute between Varvara and Talaith, and I was determined to keep his involvement in the case quiet, more for my sake than his. The last thing I wanted to do was to make a god mad at me.

"Papa Chatha is missing," I said. I quickly filled her in on what little we knew. "That's why Shamika is with us," I finished. "She's helping us search for her uncle."

"Her uncle?" Klamm said. "Do you have any proof that she's related to Papa Chatha? Had any of you met her before today or even so much as heard Papa mention her?"

"Are you implying that Shamika's a spy?" Devona said, flashing Klamm a little fang to show what she thought of him.

"She is Arcane," Klamm said. "And by appealing to your sympathies, she's managed not only to worm her way into Demon's Roost, but into Varvara's war room."

I started to protest, but then I thought about what Klamm said. He had a point – one that I didn't want to examine too closely lest I become as paranoid as him.

"What do you want from me, Matt?" Varvara asked. "And make it fast: I'm busy planning a war, you know."

With Varvara, I've found that the direct approach works best, and the bold-as-hell approach works even better.

"I want you to release Papa – and the other magic-users while you're at it. Then you and Talaith can make nice, and the rest of us can get on with our lives, such as they are."

Varvara's green eyes blazed with baleful light, and her expression became one of cold fury. I could feel power building around her, and I knew I was a hair's breadth away from being turned into zombie fricassee.

I gave her a lopsided grin. "Come on – you knew I was going to ask."

Klamm fixed me with a disdainful glare. "My queen! You can't possibly tolerate such insolence!"

"Insolence is my middle name," I told Klamm. "Well, actually it's Stephen, but you get the idea."

The queen of the Demonkin looked at me for a moment, then she smiled and the power that had been building around her disappeared.

"Of course you were going to ask, Matt," she said, almost fondly. "It's what you do, isn't it? Ask the questions others are afraid to, go places they won't or can't, all in pursuit of an ideal called Truth that in the end may not even exist."

"I usually find answers," I said, trying not to sound defensive.

"Perhaps," Varvara said, "but they aren't always the answers you hope to find, are they?"

I didn't reply.

Varvara regarded me for a moment more before turning and walking back to the map table. Klamm joined her, but since no one had extended an invitation to me, I stayed where I was, standing with Devona, Shamika, and Varney. I figured I'd already pushed my luck with Varvara enough for the time being.

"I had nothing to do with the disappearances of the Arcane," Varvara said. "Nor did any of my subjects." She glanced sideways at Klamm. "At least, not as far as we know. Investigations are ongoing."

Klamm smiled coldly at that, and I could imagine the excruciatingly agonizing nature of those "investigations."

Varvara continued. "For whatever reason, Talaith has chosen to blame me for the disappearances, and I've been unable to convince her otherwise."

"Not that you tried very hard," I guessed. "After all, a war with Talaith would be too much fun to pass up."

Varvara's smile held more than a hint of slyness. "It has been a long time since we've had a decent war," she admitted. "The last full-scale conflict between the Dominions was the Blood Wars, and they happened over two centuries ago. We're long overdue for another."

"And it doesn't bother you that people will die while you and Talaith play soldiers?" I asked.

Varvara gave me a look. "What part of Demon Queen don't you understand?"

Klamm chose that moment to jump in again. "Have you considered the possibility that Talaith kidnapped the missing magic-users herself and then blamed Varvara for the crime in order to create an excuse to attack the Sprawl? In fact, the disappearances may have only been a ruse. The magic-users may have hidden themselves at Varvara's command."

"Papa Chatha would never do that," I said. "He may be Arcane, but he's his own man."

Klamm shrugged. "Perhaps. Then again, you may not know him as well as you think."

Despite myself, I couldn't help considering Klamm's words. Before that day, I hadn't known Papa had a niece. What else didn't I know about him?

I glanced at Shamika. She continued to stare at Klamm oddly, but she didn't say anything in defense of her uncle. I wondered if it was because she was too intimidated at being in Varvara's presence or if it was because she had no defense to make.

I told myself to stop heading down that path. Demons are notorious for getting inside your head – sometimes literally – and messing with your mind any number of ways.

"Do you have any proof to back up your suspicions?" I asked Klamm.

"Not yet," he admitted. "But as my queen told you-"

"Investigations are ongoing," I said.

Klamm smiled. "Indeed."

"Talaith claims to have proof of Demonkin involvement in the disappearances," I said. "Have you seen it?"

Varvara shook her head. "But even if she did show it to me, I wouldn't trust it. Talaith isn't above manufacturing evidence when it suits her purpose." "Neither are you," I countered.

Klamm shot me a dark look, but Varvara let out a loud earthy laugh.

"True enough! But you know how scheming and vindictive Talaith can be. She makes the rest of us Darklords seem reasonable and even-tempered."

"I don't know if I'd go that far, but your point is a good one."

I figured I'd learned as much as I was going to from Varvara, but I wasn't ready to leave yet. I doubted the Demon Queen could be swayed from retaliating against Talaith, but I figured I should at least make the effort. I wasn't going to attempt to appeal to her better nature, since I was fairly certain she didn't have one. Instead, I decided to appeal to her mercenary side. With the best shops, clubs, restaurants, and attractions in Nekropolis, the Sprawl is the city's center of business – both legitimate and otherwise – and a lot of darkgems exchanged hands here. War wouldn't exactly be conducive to the orderly flow of commerce.

"Do you really think attacking Glamere is a good idea? I'm sure it would be emotionally satisfying, but it won't be good for business. With both bridges destroyed, the Sprawl is already cut off from the other Dominions, and that's going to put a dent in profits. And all-out war would be even worse. If the Sprawl becomes a battle zone…"

Klamm answered for Varvara. "Engineering crews have already been dispatched to rebuild the bridges, along with soldiers to guard them once they're finished." He smiled smugly. "If Talaith sends the Weyward Sisters to destroy the bridges again, the witches will find us waiting and ready for them."

"Talaith won't bother attacking the bridges again," Varvara said. "She'll go for a bigger, bolder strike the next time. It's what I would do." She thought for a moment. "It's true that a war might adversely affect business in the Sprawl, and I've already met with several nervous representatives of the Merchants' Guild about that very matter. And I'm not unsympathetic to their concerns. I've worked hard to make the Sprawl the most interesting and exciting Dominion in the city, and I have no intention of throwing that away lightly. But there's a lot to be said for a good war, you know. Like a forest fire, it can be a cleansing force, burning away old, tired wood and making room for invigorating new growth." She flashed a smile. "Besides, it's fun!"

"So your main reason for going to war – aside from getting back at Talaith – is that it will give you a chance to remodel?" I shook my head in disgust. "You know, sometimes you Darklords are more like kids with Attention Deficit Disorder than immortal monsters."

In response, Varvara's smile only grew wider.

"The queen's forest fire analogy is particularly apt at the moment," Klamm said. He bent over the map table, typed a command on the keyboard, and then moved his index finger over the mouse pad. The hologram of Nekropolis blurred and reformed into a detailed image of Glamere, the Dominion Talaith ruled. I haven't spent much time there, considering how much Talaith despises me, but I recognized the more prominent features: the Valley of Silence, the Interstitial Maze, Reversion River, and the Greensward. In the middle of the latter stood Woodhome, Talaith's stronghold, a gigantic tree which contained dozens of interior chambers that had formed organically as it grew.

I had a bad feeling about this. "You're not going to attack Woodhome, are you?" If Varvara made a direct strike on Talaith's stronghold, the Witch Queen would be so furious that not even Father Dis would be able to stop the war then. Worse, it might drag the other three Darklords into the conflict. Galm, Amon, and Edrigu would sit back and watch Varvara and Talaith fight it out as long as their dispute didn't spill over into the other Dominions. But it would be a different story if either of the women attacked the other's stronghold. While the Darklords had fought against one another in ways large and small over the centuries, by unspoken agreement they had never attacked another Lord's stronghold. If Varvara broke that custom now, the other Darklords might decide she'd gone too far and join forces against her. If that happened, the destruction Devona and I had witnessed in the alternate Nekropolis would pale in comparison to the devastation a five-way battle between Darklords would wreak on the city.

"It's tempting, I'll admit," Varvara said, "but no, we're not going to attack Woodhome." She smiled darkly. "Just the next best thing." She nodded to Klamm, and he pressed a button on the map table's console. The Demon Queen then waved her hand and the walls of her penthouse became transparent. I'd always assumed Varvara's quarters didn't have windows because she didn't want to be vulnerable to a possible attack by another Darklord – and because she didn't want anyone spying on the more lascivious activities she indulged in with playmates of either sex – but now I understood that the walls were windows… when she wanted them to be, anyway.

Vibrations juddered through the floor, and the entire building shook around us, as if in the grip of an earthquake. The vibrations ceased as a dozen fiery streaks shot up from the ground and arced up into the night-black sky above the Sprawl. The streaks flew northward and were rapidly lost to view.

Varney moaned. "My producer is going to kill me for not being able to film this!"

"Look at the map," Devona said in a tone that held equal parts of awe and fear.

We all did as she said and saw a dozen miniature recreations of the flame trails heading toward Glamere from the south.

"Are those missiles?" I asked.

"Yes," Klamm answered without taking his eyes off the holo-display. "Fired from silos surrounding Demon's Roost. Each contains a payload of a dozen salamanders." The light from the holographic recreation of the missiles bathed his face in bright orange, and it made his glossy black eyes gleam. "My own special design."

None of us could take our gazes away from the holographic scene playing out before us. We all watched silently as the missiles arced downward and impacted on the forest floor of the Greensward in a circle around Woodhome. I had no doubt that the salamanders Klamm referred to weren't the tiny amphibious creatures of Earth but rather mythological salamanders, magical fire lizards capable of igniting vast conflagrations. The recreation wasn't detailed enough for us to see exactly what happened once the missiles hit, but I imagined panels in the sides of the missiles popping open and hordes of small redhided salamanders pouring forth. An instant later, a wall of flame sprang up around Woodhome and immediately began moving away from Talaith's stronghold, devouring the Greensward as it went. I imagined the salamanders scuttling forward in a circle, obeying a preprogrammed geis to keep their flames away from Woodhome. It seemed Varvara had been telling the truth when she said she wouldn't attack Talaith's stronghold.

Talaith didn't waste any time in striking back. Three small dots of light emerged from the holographic recreation of Woodhome, and flew up and over the rapidly expanding circle of fire.

"The Weyward Sisters," Varvara said. "Talaith's dispatched them to put out the fire." The Demon Queen spoke with barely contained excitement, sounding like an overeager sports fan watching a particularly tense moment in the game. Thread-thin beams of light emerged from the dots representing the Weyward Sisters and lanced downward into the circle of flame. The salamanders' fire flickered and slowed down, but it continued spreading.

Klamm smiled. "Those aren't ordinary salamanders. They've been both mystically and genetically augmented to withstand any attack. The Sisters might be able to extinguish the flames the salamanders have already created, but they won't be able to stop them from making more."

"Another of your 'special designs'?" I asked.

Klamm looked up from the holo-display long enough to give me a smug smile before returning his attention to the action.

We continued to watch as the Weyward Sisters unleashed one mystic bolt after another in an attempt to stop the salamanders' fiery march across the Greensward, but while they were able to douse the flames the creatures created, they couldn't stop the salamanders themselves. Finally the Sisters broke off their attack and flew up to a point above Woodhome where they gathered together.

"What are they doing?" Varvara asked.

Shamika had been silent since we'd entered Varvara's penthouse, but she spoke now. "Since they can't destroy the salamanders, they're going to prevent them from spreading their fires throughout all of Glamere. And there's only one way to do that."

Devona's eyes widened in sudden comprehension. "Destroy the rest of the Greensward. That way, they won't have anything to burn."

Shamika nodded, and we watched as the three dots representing the Weyward Sisters began to blaze with light so intense that it was hard to look at them directly. The light then pulsed outward in a wave that rolled over the rest of the Greensward, and an instant later, the forest was gone. I wasn't sure what sort of spell the Weyward Sisters had used, but it was damned powerful, disintegrating the surviving trees instantly. The salamanders' flames continued to burn for a few seconds longer after that, but denied fuel, their flames died out. The Weyward Sisters then parted, each of them flying down into the burnedout plain where the Greensward had been and flying low over the ground.

"What are they doing?" Varney asked. "Capturing the salamanders?"

Varvara nodded. "Since they no longer have to worry about saving the Greensward, their magic can protect them from the salamanders' flames. They can just pick them up off the ground now. But it doesn't matter. My little pets have done their work."

I thought she was going to say something more, but before she could speak again, the image of a woman's head appeared above the holographic recreation of Woodhome. It was Talaith.

She appeared to be in her late sixties, with short gray hair, baggy eyes, and sagging skin. Her expression was normally fixed in a permanent tight-lipped scowl, but now her features were twisted with rage.

"How dare you!" she said in a low voice.

Varvara smiled sweetly at Talaith. "You made the first move, love."

"You kidnapped my people!"

"I've told you, I had nothing to do with that. And even if I had, do you really think the abduction of a few witches and warlocks rates the destruction of both bridges to my Dominion? It's hardly what I would call a reasonable response, dear."

"I'll show you a reasonable response, you demonic slut! I'll-" Talaith broke off, frowning. The image of her head slowly rotated until she was looking at me.

"Richter!" She said my name like it was a particularly nasty venereal disease. "I should've known you would be involved in this!"

"Actually, one of his friends is among the missing magic-users," Varvara said. "Matt came here to find out if I knew anything about his disappearance. Technically, I suppose that means he's on your side."

"Don't insult me," I muttered.

Talaith's eyes burned with such hatred that I was glad I was only looking at a mystic projection of her and not the real thing. If she had been here, she'd have likely hit me with a spell so powerful it would've reduced me to an undead smear on the floor.

"You've been a thorn in my side for far too long, Richter," she said. "First I'm going to deal with Varvara, and when I'm finished with her, I'm coming for you."

"Don't write checks your ass can't cash, dear," Varvara said.

Talaith whirled back to face her, snarled, and then the image of her head faded as she broke contact.

Varvara grinned. "That went well, didn't it?" She grinned at Klamm. "Excellent work, General."

Klamm bowed his head. "It's my pleasure to serve you, my queen. I'll have my people begin assessing the damage and running simulations to determine what Talaith's next move might be." He glanced sideways at us. "About our visitors… They've seen far too much, my queen. While I understand that you find the zombie amusing, he and his companions should be placed in holding cells where we can keep an eye on them until the current situation with the Arcane is resolved. It would be the…" he paused, searching for the right word. " prudent thing to do."

Varvara smiled at him. "In case you hadn't noticed, General, I'm not one for making the prudent choice. Where's the fun in that? Matt is far more interesting when he's allowed to roam free, causing his own unique brand of chaos."

I frowned. "I'm not sure if that's a compliment or an insult."

Varvara grinned. "Works either way."

I couldn't help but smile back. "Guess so." But then I grew serious. "You know Talaith will take the destruction of the Greensward as seriously as if you had attacked Woodhome. Unlike you, Talaith doesn't embrace technology, and she forces her people to live in harmony with nature – whether they like it or not. To her, destroying a forest is the same as destroying a city full of people. Actually, she probably considers it to be worse. And the Greensward isn't just a simple collection of trees, it's her personal forest, the one surrounding her home. Whatever she does next, it'll make the destruction of the bridges pale in comparison."

Varvara's grin took on a dark edge. "I'm counting on it."