Gord shook his head. "Would you, demoness? Then would you be marked for turmoil and destruction far more than I. Graz'zt has one and his whole realm is under siege, its king noar to losing all. Demogorgon held one for a brief time, and then the daemon master he must now serve took it. Iuz thinks he possesses a Theorpart — and so do Iggwilv, Zuggtmoy, and her brother Szhublox. Think on that," and Gord paused a moment to allow his words to sink in, be assessed by Elazalag. "Do you know I held one once and gave it over?"

"Yes," the demoness responded with a harsh hiss. "I know Vuron's part in that — and hers, too!" she spat, glaring at Leda.

"Blame me, or better still place no blame at all. That was written, I think long before any of us knew. Because I am now who I am, much is known to me that is hidden from you. Everything that concerns the three parts of the elder artifact, the lives and actions of those who would wield them. Is apparent to my mind."

"How can that be?" Nisroch demanded. The big demon was incredulous.

"How is it that I am known? Your fellow Abat-dolor there, Mycortte, recognized who I am when she heard my name, calling me by the epithet the slayer of demons'. True, I have ended the existence of many from the Abyss; but I have no particular vendetta against your sort. Most of demonkind merely cries out to be destroyed." His tone was so hard, the words so laden with menace, that all save the princess herself recoiled from the small man. Nisroch pulled back with a growl. Even Elazalag straightened in her big chair.

"I am known because there is a rede which says that when the Ultimate Darkness threatens, one will be there to fight against it. Now, because I have risen to become that champion, all who seek to bring the curse upon the multiverse search for me. Scrying and spell, crystal-gazing and slinking spy, augury and divination are aimed toward me. Small and great are the wards which are there to prevent that, yet these protections have been inadequate. That is no matter. What must be done will be done, and 1 think none can stop me until Tharizdun stands before me." As he said that, the atmosphere in the demon princess's chamber seemed to darken, become palpably threatening. Gord ignored it and went on.

"I am no judge of demonkind, yet it seems that as a race the Abat-dolor are more civilized, more like humankind, perhaps — and I mean that as no insult or belittlement," the young thief added with a small chuckle. That act seemed to break the tension among the demons, and a few actually laughed. "If united, your kind would be a true force in this sphere, and perhaps there have been those who labored clandestinely to prevent such a thing happening. I don't know. My mental foreknowledge and prescience tells me this: Infestix brings his Theorpart here to iyondagur in a decisive thrust against Graz'zt. He, the master of Hades, desires to enlist your war bands rather than contest with them. Thus reinforced, his horde will march upon Mezzafgraduun. Even now he comes toward this place, while the bulk of his forces, the hordes of Demogorgon and Mandrillagon, reinforced by a million or more conscripts from the netherspheres bowing to Infestix, throw themselves in waves upon Vuron's defense."

"We care nothing for Graz'zt!" The angry retort came from Nisroch.

"It is evident that you are shortsighted, then," Gord countered, looking squarely at Elazalag as he spoke. "Do you want to serve the ape-headed ones? Bow to a daemon overlord? Become pawns of Tharizdun?"

"No, never," the demoness said in reply. There was force but no anger in the rejection. "It would serve my kind well if Graz'zt regained his senses too, became my co-ruler again ..."

So, Gord thought with satisfaction, this demon princess actually has emotions not dissimilar to human ones. Elazalag cared for the demon king — as a being or as a sign of power and authority, what matter? The term "love" covered many thoughts, emotions, desires. "Then gather the warbands of the Abat-dolor now! We will confront the invaders."

"Only a half-dozen of the clans can get their forces here," Elazalag said. "The other three are already cut off and are of no use."

"No matter, Princess," Gord told the demoness. "All that is needed is a show of force sufficient to cause the invaders to concentrate their mass, and for Infestix to stay with the Theorpart to assure the quick victory of his hordes over the puny force of Abat-dolor daring to resist the will of Hades."

"Hades?" spat the Herald. "It is a garden, a sweetsmelling oasis filled with delicate — "

"Enough, Nisroch," commanded Elazalag. "All of us are aware of your disdain for the enemy, and we have better things to do than listen to expletives. So, Champion of Balance, what can a few thousand of my subjects do save die uselessly?"

"I think you can field more than a few thousand warriors," Gord responded. "You and your warbands will accompany us as we go to face the foe. Their soldiers will come against you, and the Abat-dolor must defend themselves, fight valiantly for some time — an hour, perhaps. During that time we will strike into the heart of the invaders' position, seek out the daemon who commands them, and wrest from him the relic he wields against you, the Abyss, and all the multiverse."

"And the Eye of Deception?"

"That, Princess, will be safe in Lady . . . Eclavdra's hands. It will be what enables us to penetrate to where Infestix lurks."

"Never was that object meant to counter such power as is within Initiator," Elazalag said with doubt in her deep, contralto voice.

It was Leda's turn to speak up. "Pardon, great Princess," the dark elf said with firmness, "but you do not take into account the might of the dweomers contained in the champion's sword. I have used the force of the Eye to try to examine the blade, and it is strong! So strong that the Eye cannot pierce its veil, gain any understanding of it."

"Then how . . . ?"

"It is as the Theorparts, Princess, and I have had time and reason to attempt the Eye's scrutiny upon Unbinder in the past. The weapon is the equal of any Theorpart . . . more than a match, perhaps. If the Eye of Deception is added to the weight of it, then Infestix is at a disadvantage."

"My warriors," the demoness said, looking at Gord again. "What will become of them?"

"How many can you field?"

"Perhaps fifty thousand or so from the six clans nearby — there is no time to round up all the outlying rovers, or there would be double that force. My own soldiers and guards constitute but a division, about twenty thousand."

Gord nodded with conviction. "Ample for our purposes, I assure you! It is not to be a protracted engagement, Elazalag. It is only necessary to make the daemon stand and fight for a little time. We will scythe through the so-called Lord of Death's ranks as if they were ripe stalks of wheat, pluck his fangs — the Theorpart — and leave him and his hordes to run howling in terror back whence they came."

"That is a pleasing thought," Nisroch growled. "The great daemon can flee safely back to his nest, of course; but the rest of his army will not have such a luxury. . ."

"Lord Gellor," Gord suggested, "Is the one to assist you with the disposition of your forces."

"That is so," the grizzled bard affirmed. "I have fought many such battles, albeit with slightly different sorts of troops." Even Nisroch chuckled at that. "Whilst you gather the warbands, let us examine maps of iyondagur to find the best ground to confront the invaders. They will be marching here, hoping to gam your surrender, conscript your Abat-dolor soldiers, and then thrust into Mezzafgraduun as a sword's point slides into the heart of a foe. Now, Princess Elazalag, I think the best position is likely to be near to your own . . ." And so Gellor went on, as the ebon-hued demons rushed to bring together their forces to face the invading horde led by the master daemon.