17. Kidnap the King

Armed, armored, and back to skulking down dark hallways, Séa remembered her quiet voice. "The place feels so empty."

Tash said, "No royal guards, no wizards. Maybe some of the people are being replaced by demons. Maybe a lot of the people."

The paladin said, "Not a lot of demons can make themselves look human. Spellcasters, I guess, and incubi."

"That's good to know. Say, I thought of a new backup option."

"You're so smart," Séa cooed. "What is it?"

"Kidnap the king."

"Whoa, that's bold." Séa chuckled, then put a lid on her voice once again. "But I can see how it would be great. If we could get the king free and back to the city, in a few days he could shake off his enchantment. He's gonna be mad, mad, mad until then, though. And it's totally treason."

The rogue growled, "This whole thing is mad. Anyway, the king and the steward are probably up in the towers somewhere, so let's climb higher. Hide from non-demons. Slay demons on sight."

"Yes!"

"But as quietly as possible."

"Oh, poo."

Tash tugged on Séa's elbow. "Shh. Quasit ahead."

In a quivery whisper, the paladin's excitement shone. "You are so good at sensing them!"

"Maybe, but ... I hold an unfamiliar bow with weird military arrows. Wish us luck."

Torugg's champion replied, "May Giasleppi guide us to maximum ridiculousness."

"You goofball."

Tash had recently discovered an affinity for locating demons. The ability apparently flowed from a grant of favor from Giasleppi, goddess of tricks (or, possibly, a god – she was that tricky). Séa shared a similar directional ability, honed enough to attempt archery with one's eyes shut. The women nocked stolen arrows onto their purloined bows and creaked tension into the bowstrings. Knees bent, they crept forward.

Quasits were bat-like flying demons with twisted humanoid faces and bodies. The demon the women sensed could not be seen, and this was typical. Quasits could turn invisible at will, apparently without effort. This particular one seemed stationary near the ceiling many yards ahead of them. In her mind's eye, Séa imagined it hanging from its foot-claws from the ceiling, its leathery wings wrapped around it and its beady eyes wide open and alert. In unspoken accord, they halted. As one, they pulled their bowstrings back to their ears.

Thrumm.

The arrows flew, and the women sprinted forward. A spluttery hiss like a firework echoed down the hall. A shadow fell from the ceiling ahead to the floor, where it flopped in leather winged agony.

Tash arrived first and drove a dagger through the creature's scrawny throat. "One sentry down."

Séa's lungs pumped as she regarded the dead demon and the broad staircase ahead. A vertical line appeared between her scrunched eyebrows. This was the palace. The seat of power for the entirety of Omnius. The paladin said, breathily, "It's hard to believe it's real, Jagged Keep overthrown like this. And nobody besides Ghomarck and us even knows about it."

"It is unbelievable. It's so outrageous that no one would ever guess it." Tash shook blood from her blade and rubbed the back of her neck. Meditatively, she murmured what amounted to a stylistically unconventional prayer. "Giasleppi, if you engineered this, it's fecking genius. Also, I fecking hate you, bitch."

Séa clapped two hands over her mouth, lest her giggles alert distant quasits or regular guards.

Two towers flanked the great hall of the Keep, west and east. From the yard, the women caught glimpses of them in the silvery light of the slow moon, Gáo. Of the messenger moon, Oothra there was no sign. The great hall loomed between the towers, its high windows dark. Ordinary patrols paced atop the walls as guards have done since the beginning of civilization. The skulking women presumed they could expect no welcome there.

Séa's eyes roved back and forth. "Any guesses as to which tower?"

"No."

"The nearest, then?"

"Sure."

The pair must resemble ordinary soldiers from a distance. Either because of that or because no eyes fell upon them, no palace resident accosted them. They progressed in uncertain dashes from hiding place to hiding place. The base of the tower lay deserted. After a flight of stairs, they arrived at the wall level. Many minutes ticked by as they listened to the patrols come and go. When Tash judged it clear, they crept across the broad wall to the next staircase.

As they ascended the tower spiral, the hairs at the backs of their necks prickled. The higher they went, the more acute the sensation of impending evil became. They readied their bows and squinted into the gloom. When a quasit banked down the curve, they drew their bows. Simultaneously, they shot.

This time, Séa delivered the coup de grace with her borrowed mace. The splattered demon blood smoked on the limestone stairs, etching the stone like acid. The outgassing continued for a full minute. When the smoke cleared, no trace of the demon corpse remained. "Two sentries down."

The rogue pecked the paladin on the cheek. "Good. We've been quiet so far."

The warm imprint of her lips tingled on Séa's cheek. "Am I an honorary rogue, now? But it helps that the place is so huge. Onward."

They arrived at a landing and a big door to an interior room. Tash laid her ear to the wood. Her nose twitched. She whispered, "All quiet, but I smell perfume. Could be the king's chamber. Or the steward's. Or probably lots of other important people's."

A moment later, she added, "Ah. Locked."

Her eyes roved, until they rested upon Séa, who returned the gaze with an expression of happy blankness. The paladin awaited a stimulus and would remain serene and unperturbed until one arrived. Trained from childhood to meditate, Séa's profound patience contrasted with Tash's restlessness.

Tash extended a hand and whispered, "Give me one of your war arrows," and drew the slenderest of her daggers. Over the next five minutes, the rogue prodded and scraped at the keyhole. She honed and mangled the arrowhead until it resembled a skeleton key.

Beaming with pride, the paladin watched the clever improvisation. Where Tash's regular tool kit resided, Séa couldn't guess. Tossed into a chest somewhere in the keep, perhaps.

"Nearly there," the rogue whispered.

Before she inserted her crude tool for the final twist, the door swung open on silent hinges. A shape in white linen regarded them with quizzical eyes. "I thought you were a mouse," the looming pale apparition said in an ordinary female voice. The voice shaded toward "librarian" and definitely several notches older than "young."

Tash and Séa froze, but the woman neither screamed nor ran. A puffy night cap contained her hair, and the linen shift could also be construed as sleepwear. The darkness obscured her features enough to make identification difficult. The woman might be Ophelle, the castle steward.

The paladin cleared her throat. "Apologies. We could be in the wrong place."

Tash eased to her feet and hid her knife and arrow behind her back.

The woman said, "That's hard to say, isn't it? But call me intrigued. Won't you come in?" She stood aside, deeper into shadow.

"Yes, we should," Tash said.

Séa hung back. A queasy roiling stirred in her guts. "Come in" was what the spider said to the fly, not the fly to the spider. Perhaps this was Ophelle, after all: she who might be the mastermind of the whole plot. Wouldn't it be risky to go in? But — oh, clever Tash whose mind raced ahead — to go in would bring us close to Ophelle. With some ruse, Tash would slip the circlet of subversion from her head. Séa would stand by with mace at the ready to ensure that Tash kept the item. Teamwork. The corners of the paladin's lips lifted, and she crossed the threshold.

In the tower room, peacetime stained-glass mosaics covered former wartime arrow slots. Moonlight set them aglow, in many colors. The soft, multicolored light that diffused through the windows painted the interior with pastel beauty. An enormous circular rug underlay the furnishings, which were of good quality but not ostentatious. A large bed, chairs, drawers, and other homey items completed the interior.

"So, I'm Tash," said the rogue in her best buttery tones.

"I'm Ophelle," said the woman. "Cup of tea? Unless you're in a hurry."

"Well, all right." Tash followed Ophelle as the woman glided toward her bedside table.

Séa thought to herself that she'd better stay quiet. Tash was a much better liar. But it would be rude not to introduce herself. "I'm Séa. We met, briefly, a couple of times."

"Yes, I know you two. You've escaped your jail cell. Clever of you."

Séa's heart jumped. Tash lunged at Ophelle, but the woman spun with the speed of a swatting cat and caught the rogue's wrists.

You have no interest in the circlet. And you'd never hurt me. You like me. You like me very much. The mental blast blew through Séa's brain so hard that her body quivered.

Tash sagged like a willow tree in a breeze. Ophelle kissed Tash's left knuckles, then her right, then released the hands. A doubtful smile touched Tash's face. "Sorry, Ophelle. Don't know what came over me. Something about the king."

The steward waved a graceful hand. "The king is perfectly fine." The king is perfectly fine. "The presence of demons in the castle is not important." The presence of demons in the castle is not important.

The steward removed her night cap. An abundant mass of black hair cascaded down her back. A lovely gem-studded circlet lay upon her unwrinkled brow. But the circlet wasn't important. No need to think about it. By moonlight, Steward Ophelle's face glowed with nobility and beauty. Séa had only made her acquaintance a couple of times, but she sure liked her. She liked her very much.

Ophelle said, "Séa, dear?"

The words were like electricity and the paladin's spine straightened. "Yes?"

"Close the door please, and lock it."

"Oh, sure." Séa bounced back to the door and secured it.

The steward ran a finger back from Tash's temple and tucked stray hairs behind her slightly pointed ear. "You two can trust me." I can be trusted. "Tell me how you escaped. I'm impressed. I thought you had wandered off altogether, but here you are, still in the keep." There are no secrets between us.

Séa found herself blurting, "Tash bent a drinking cup into a big hook! And we braided little ropes, and we raised the bar on the very first try! Isn't she clever?"

"Tash is clever," said Ophelle. "And quite a beauty, if you overlook the scar." The woman's voice had lost its mature overtones in favor of smooth, youthful vigor, and her smile stretched slightly hollowed, unwrinkled cheeks. "Which I do, by the way."

A flush a pride inflated the paladin's chest. "She is a beauty! And so clever."

"By the gods, Séa, hush. You two are making me blush."

"I'm so glad you stopped by," Ophelle said. "I hope you can stay a little while." You feel welcomed. You forget all urgent matters and want to stay with me.

"Yes!" Séa said. "Do you want to play a game?"

Tash's movements were a little jerky. She eyed the paladin with suspicion, then turned to Ophelle. "Careful, Ophelle. Séa's games are either childish or really childish, if you get my meaning."

"Hmm? What do you mean? What game?" The willowy steward's eyebrow arched in amused curiosity.

The paladin remembered gray hairs on Ophelle's head, but tonight every lush hair resembled polished onyx. By the multicolored moonlight, not a single wrinkle or sag marred the youthful perfection of her face. She smelled of sage perfume and some exotic musk. Séa felt her face heating. "Um. Well, if we're staying a while, I thought we might play moss-flame-stone. If there's a loser, the loser has to take something off."

"Gods, Séa," Tash muttered.

"I see what you mean about 'really childish,' Tash," Ophelle said. "But I love it. It's a grand idea. I've been lonely, lately. So very lonely up in this tower."

Séa ached for poor, lonely Ophelle. She liked and trusted Ophelle, even if she seemed to be a shape changer. If she was a succubus, that would explain it. But the presence of demons in the keep was not important, so it didn't matter. It just mattered that Séa liked Ophelle.

With a spell, the steward heated a pot and added tea leaves. "Drag two chairs over by the bed, Séa. And at least take off your helm and gauntlets."

"Yeah, cheater." Tash jumped to help, and Séa realized that her lover, too, liked Ophelle. What a lovely, cozy thing that was. When the chairs were set, the rogue reached to help removed Séa's metal helm. When it was off, the half-elf kissed her. And why not? Nothing was urgent right now, and the kiss warmed the paladin from lips to toes.

"I don't cheat," Séa murmured. She knew none of Tash's insults were meant to sting. They were meant to convey familiarity, especially ridiculous ones like that: everybody knew that paladins didn't cheat. They couldn't.

Ophelle settled on the bed and crossed her ankles. "How does the game go?"

The other two women sat. "You don't know?" Séa said. "Well, you go 'one, two, three' and then make moss, flame, or a rock with your hand. See?" A flat hand meant moss. A fist was a rock. Thumbs up signified a flame.

"All right," the steward said. Her eyelids half-covered her dark irises. The smoky gesture brought new heat to Séa's cheeks.

"One, two, three!" Séa made 'moss.' Tash had made flame and Ophelle had made a rock.

"Nobody loses," the paladin said. "Flame burns moss, moss covers rock, and rock douses flame. Go again! One, two, three!" The pounding fists turned into symbols. "Moss, moss, rock! I lose."

The paladin unbuckled the seams between back plate and breast plate.

"I'm so glad you two decided to stay for tea," Ophelle said with a suggestive lilt. "And this game is perfect, immature as it may be."

Tash said, "At any given moment Séa's either naked or fully armored. There's not much middle ground."

"Well, let's keep playing, then," the steward said. "May I count this time?"

"Sure!" the paladin chirped. She slid the split halves of her borrowed armor an arm's length away on the rug.

Ophelle said, "One, two, three! Oh, flame and flame but I have moss. Do I lose?"

"You lose," Tash said.

"Take a thing off." Séa clapped her hands.

"Oh, my," said Ophelle. She inched the hem of her linen shift higher, baring pretty ankles. "Am I doing it right?"

Séa blurted, "Yes, for sure."

The svelte steward leaned forward from the bed and stood. With crawling fingers, she gathered fabric into her hands and the hem rose over her calves, then knees, then thighs. Séa's simmering interest boiled over, and heat poured into her labia. With her next twitch Ophelle revealed a dark, silky triangle between firm thighs.

"You are so young!" Tash breathed.

"Why, thank you." Ophelle bared a tight belly capped by an elegant arch of lower ribs.

"Tash," Séa gently admonished, "She's not human. She's a succubus, and the real Ophelle must ... must ..." What would have happened to Steward Ophelle? Killed, most likely. Perhaps imprisoned because of the wealth of information she must possess. But whichever fate, if would be horrible. Horror draped over Séa's face, and she leapt to her feet.

Succubus-Ophelle tossed her linen aside. Her shapely breasts bounced. Her upturned nipples were only a little darker than her flawless skin. "Ophelle is safe." Ophelle is safe. I have only the good of the kingdom at heart. All is well. Banish your worries and enjoy our intimacy. She reclined on the bed and tossed her thick mane of hair back to brush on the plush bedclothes. A primal, exciting scent drifted on the air like a subtle, earthy perfume.

"I'm ... glad Ophelle is safe." Séa's foggy mind reeled, but worries weren't allowed, so why worry?

"Succubus." Tash rubbed at her forehead. "What's your name?"

"Call me Sarophax, if you wish. Or Ophelle. It isn't important. Do you want to undress, lovely Tash, bounteous Séa?"

Séa's vulva flushed anew. "Definitely." At least her body could sort out its priorities, even if her mind seemed temporarily unavailable.

In a typically Tash-like deflection, the rogue said, "I fecking hate this armor, anyway. It chafes." A gush of love for the half-elf rogue surged inside Séa. The acidic half elf hid behind her brash exterior and tied herself up in knots. But underneath all her hang-ups and misdirections kindness formed the core of her soul.

Sarophax'sdark eyes watched the paladin and the rogue shed their armor. The tip of hertongue peeked out. From left to right, she moistened her sumptuous lips, andthey curved upwards.

A/N: Succubi are dangerous enough on their own, but this one has the circlet of subversion. It's quite the unfair advantage. Hence, I suppose, Sarophax's smug expression.

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ONC recommendation.

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