The sword, his weapon, was an instrument of power whose potential far outweighed the force of the Abyssal artifact he offered. For a moment Elazalag considered gaining the blade as well, then dismissed the idea. One touch told her that it was not a weapon that any demon could trust. The thing would turn, drink her energy, and serve only Balance. "Come into my chariot," the demoness said with a gesture indicating all three. "You are my guests for a brief stay — very brief! My council will already be there when we arrive."

A handful of male and female Abat-dolor were awaiting them in a large, high-vaulted chamber, just as Elazalag had stated. Nisroch was there, for he was both herald and thegn of the demon clans. Only three of the other lords of the Abat-dolor's nine clans were there, along with one lady chieftainess and a female named Mycortte, both chamberlain and vice-princess, it seemed, the one who ruled in Elazalag's name when the leader of the iyondagur's nine regions was away. Gord was surprised at such trust, but it was nothing he tarried upon. Too many other matters pressed. He had to listen to a series of tirades against all the rest of the netherworld, demonkind, and Graz'zt. The last was the principal target the great demonking whose realm had been vast, but to whom these folk had never bowed. Yes, he was of their race, but. . .

Once, it seemed, the lands held by the Abat-dolor had included both iyondagur and Mezzafgraduun, now the demesne of Graz'zt; thus, the contiguity between the seemingly widely separated three hundred and ninety-ninth tier and the great three hundred and sixty-sixth stratum. The joint realm was ruled by Graz'zt and Elazalag, his consort. Thirteen clans of the Abat-dolor dwelled on the two layers of the diverse realm, and many other sorts of demonkind were subject to the two rulers.

Then somehow the ancient of witches, Iggwilv, entered the Abyss, came to Graz'zt in his palace on Mezzafgraduun, and soon won favor with the demonking. By wiles and deceit Iggwilv separated him from Elazalag, the clans of Abat-dolor from their union. The ambitions of the ebon demonking and his attitudes alienated all but four of the clans from him, but there were many ambitious nobles of other races flocking around Graz'zt and the powerful witch; many sorts of lesser demon races to subjugate, enlist, enslave.

Soon Graz'zt was waging a great battle against the mightiest of the other demonkings, expanding his lands and dreaming of a vast empire. Iggwilv too had great aspirations, and the witch duped Graz'zt into a position which cost the demon much.

In the course of all that, a time covering a score or more decades, the enmity and dispute between Elazalag and the majority of the Abat-dolor versus Graz'zt and his empire of mongrel sort deepened and became one of open hostility. Upon the humiliation of Graz'zt and his forced confinement to his own realm in the Abyss, Elazalag had attempted to mend the rift; she claimed before Gord and his two companions that she had been willing to sacrifice her personal feelings for the betterment of the Abat-dolor. The young champion doubted that, thinking that the demoness thought to use the situation to increase her own stature while Graz'zt was down. He said nothing, of course.

Vuron was named as a culprit, too, by the assembled demons who ruled iyondagur. His machinations, personal ambitions, and hatred for Elazalag kept Graz'zt from reuniting the clans and territories of the Abat-dolor. Because Leda (whom these demons called Eclavdra because they knew nothing of the battle between the drow and her clone, and of the defeat of Eclavdra by the twin, Leda) was a confidant and advisor of the ebon demonking, and because Vuron's favor of her was well known by them, the princess demanded that Leda be held as hostage until the Eye of Deception was in Elazalag's hands.

"You are as false as any of your ilk" Gord answered with a ring of steel in his voice after that demand. "Your lie, your plan too, are as open to me as a sheet of parchment laid on this table before me." Elazalag snapped her mind closed at that, but Gord used his own mental force to prize open the demoness's thought barriers, trampling them down and stalking where he would in her brain. "You see? No thought of yours, no hidden motive of any of you, is not subject to my scrutiny and understanding."

Leda couldn't restrain herself upon hearing that. "What did the vile whore intend for me, Gord?"

"The great and noble princess of the Abat-dolor would confine you, gain the Eye, and then force Graz'zt here to her. To regain any of the evil artifact's powers again, Elazalag planned to have him torture you to death as slowly as possible."

"That.. . that-"

"No matter. Her plans are changed. What was considered is of no import now," Gord told the dark elf firmly. "Now, Princess, I will tell you what you and your subjects must do in order to gain the Eye of Deception. Remember, I care nothing about Graz'zt, your disputes, or the Abat-dolor. If I fall, your foes will have the Eye and the sword I bear . , . plus the relic they plan to destroy all of you with, unless you become their slaves forever. If I succeed, your domain is again firmly in your grasp, and one way or another Graz'zt will be stripped of his relic soon thereafter, too. Then, noble Elazalag, the fate of him and the whole of your kind will rest squarely with you."

"I attend your words with utmost diligence, and so do all my faithful vassals," the demoness added, then swept a meaningful glare over those of her subjects who were present.

Gord stated exactly what was to be done. The foes here were relatively few in number, relying on the power of the Theorpart they bore to win through. No more than about one hundred thousand demons and triple that number of other netherbeings now tramped across the lands of iyondagur.

"The bulk of the horde which now threatens your realm, Elazalag, Is composed of daemons and cacodaemons, and all the force is led by their tyrant,

Infestix."

"Just how do you happen to know all this?" The demand was boomed by Nisroch.

That was something Leda was wondering as well. Subjective time in passage through the Soulless Sounding was distorted, so that what seemed an hour or two was a full day. That meant that she had been away from Vuron and the army he commanded for no more than two or three days, measured by Oerth standards. And Gord had been in the Sounding at the same time — so how could he know what had transpired during that time?

As the demon princess and all of her Abat-dolor council peered intently at the young champion, awaiting his response to the query, Leda interjected, "It is passing strange, Gord, that so much is known to you. . . ." The sudden shift in position of Elazalag, the electric shock that seemed to be transmitted to the demons, brought a flush to the dark elven priestess. Immediately, she knew she should not have used Gord's name. "Oh!" Leda exclaimed. "I didn't mean to . . ." And then she fell silent, for any further words would simply compound her error.

"It is nothing," Gord said, not bothering to attempt a lengthy discussion of the matter. "My identity is no great secret, and soon enough it will be known far and wide throughout the sphere anyway."

"The slayer of demons!" hissed Mycortte. "He is in our hands!"

"Really?" The question came from Elazalag, and it brimmed with ironic mockery. Nisroch the herald bellowed laughter, and its tone underscored his princess's derision. "Cease!" Elazalag commanded. The demons fell silent.

"So, Gord of Cats, Player in Shadows, Elect of Balance — now I begin to understand. Even here in these backwaters of the Abyss we have heard of you and know of your purpose. Marked, you are, by every being in all the netherspheres."

"Not by demonkind."

"Not especially, no. None of the dwellers here care to be yoked by the shackled one . . . yet each lord here lusts after the powers of the Theorparts. I would have one — all!"