Emmaline approached. She had never considered herself to be a brave person, though she supposed that she had endured more than many with better claim to the title, but this sorcerer was terrifying. Even if he hadn’t spoken the ruinous name, its affect still making Emmaline’s tender stomach, roil, the kind of magic needed to create the garden she had seen was orders of magnitude beyond what Albrecht and most of the wizards she had known could have summoned up. She regretted eating the cherries, nothing good ever came of anything touched by Chaos. As she approached the throne a dwarf in a crimson robe entered from a side corridor. Emmaline was momentarily surprised to see a dwarf here, and even more surprised to note that it was a woman. A collar of black metal, similar to the ones on the goblins was affixed around her throat, perhaps accounting for the sullen expression. The dwarf took position in front of and to the right of the throne.

 

“You approach Zar Tan Zhou, Champion of the Changer, Scourge of Cathy, Anointed and Accursed, King of the Old World,” the Dwarf declared in a deep resonate voice, striking the flag stones three times with an iron shod staff for emphasis. Unsure of the proper form, if such a thing could be said to exist, Emmaline attempted a curtsey. The silken garment made the effort vaguely ridiculous, but she persevered.

“I am… Emmaline von Morganstern,” she said somewhat shakily. It galled her slightly to tell the truth but she couldn’t think of a benefit to lying at the moment.

 

“An ugly name,” Zar Tan Zhou commented, his strange face twisting into a sneer, “but an unusual beauty for these lands, and a wizard. Those fools in the village did well to send you to me.”

 

“I’m not much of a wizard,” Emmaline said, truthfully enough. Zar Tan Zhou, arched an angular eyebrow, leaning forward to peer at her with unsettling eyes.

 

“You say so, yet I see you are touched with more than the one feeble glimmer,” the sorcerer mused. Emmaline thought about the flickers of color she had been seeing lately in her mage sight. Since the time of Teclis, Imperial wizards had worked with a single wind of magic. That way lay purity and safety, using more than one wind inevitably lead to discordance and dark magic. According to legend many terrible necromancers and foul sorcerers had begun their careers as simple dabblers, no so different from her, eventually falling to evil as a result of using discordant magics. The thought made her mouth go dry.

 

“You will make a fine apprentice, and a fine wife,” Zar Tan Zhou declared. Emmaline’s mouth worked but she could think of nothing to say that wasn’t likely to get her blasted to paste.

“Tell me, are you a virgin?”

 

In Emmaline’s defense she really tried. The laughter exploded out of her in spite of her best efforts, doubling her over with mirth. The slight hint of hysteria tinged it but she couldn’t stop herself, laughing so hard that tears gathered in the corner of her eyes. The notion of herself as some prim blushing virgin was too ridiculous to contemplate. The sorcerer and the dwarf both stared at her as though she had gone made.

 

“I think you might have the wrong idea,” she managed at last, wiping tears away with the back of her hand. Zar Tan Zhou’s shock at the outburst seemed to give her new strength.

“And it’s a flattering offer, but I already kind of have a thing going and…”

“Silence!” Zar Tan Zhou snapped, veins standing out on his temples with anger.

“I care nothing for the customs of your so called Empire. Tzeench will bind you to me regardless of what words you have mumbled to your god,” the wizard sneered. That gave Emmaline some hope, if Zar Tan Zhou wasn’t gloating over Amal’s death, that meant that the Araybian thief was probably alive, probably had already cut the location of this mountain top out of Gert and Myrtle. Perhaps with the aid of the flying carpet he could reach her in time. Emmaline furious mumbled mentally at a variety of gods for just such an outcome.

 

“Take her and prepare her for the ceremony, the moons will be in alignment in a few short hours,” Zar Tan Zhou declared with a dismissive wave of his hand. The dwarf steeped forward and took Emmaline by the arm, leading her from the chamber and leaving the wizard to brood over the debauchery and insolence of Imperial women.

 

 

For the second time in a day Emmaline was stripped nude by a stranger. The Major Domo, or whatever the dwarf was, had taken her through several more palatial rooms into a white plastered room lined with unidentifiable vials on ebony shelves. The dwarf selected a bottle of attractively blown green glass and splashed oil from it onto her fingers, pressing the stubby pads against Emmaline. Unlike the leering goblin earlier, the dwarf’s face was somber. Emmaline had never seen a female dwarf before. Even in Altdorf dwarves were hardly a common sight, and those that lived there tended to be adventurers trying to make their fortune rather than families. Despite the jokes about dwarf women having beards, this one’s chin was smooth, though her side burns were longer than would have been the case on a human. To Emmaline’s eye she looked a lot like a very stocky Halfling, though she doubted any dwarf would appreciate such a comparison. Her hair was thick and piled high in a similar fashion to Emmaline’s own, a rich chocolatey brown that a Brettonian might have envied, though the style looked beyond alien on a dwarf.

 

“Who are you?” Emmaline asked, but the dwarf didn’t answer, just frowned looking troubled. To magically attuned senses, the collar of black iron seemed to throb harder.

“Who …are… you,” Emmaline tried, this time in bastardized Khazalid. The dwarf tongue was a closely held secret of course, but no association as long as that between humans and dwarves could hold a secret so completely. Dwarves had their criminals two and Emmaline had known a fence back in Altdorf who was often too drunk to remember to speak common. The limit of her meager store of Khazalid would have been ordering a beer and calling the dwarf’s mother a whore, neither of those seemed likely to improve her situation at this juncture. The words had the desired effect however. The dwarf reeled as though she had been struck unexpectedly by a child. She blinked hard and peered at Emmaline.

“Zwili… Zwili Hagarson,” the dwarf managed, gritting her teeth.

 

“Zwili,” Emmaline repeated, nodding encouragingly.

“I have gold. Can you help me get out of here?” she asked eagerly. Gold was always something to get a dwarf’s attention, and Emmaline should know, being afflicted by a similar ailment herself.

“It would have to be hidden … rather uncomfortably,” Zwili managed, speaking in common and beginning to sweat with the effort. Emmaline peered at her in puzzlement and then looked down at her naked body. She snickered.

“Well not on me,” she admitted, she didn’t have any gold in truth, her meager supply of coins having vanished when her original clothing was taken, but now was no time to find integrity.

 

“Cant… obey…” Zwili gasped, her hands mechanically continuing to apply the ointment. It was obvious from the dwarf’s eyes that a colossal internal struggle was taking place just to allow her to speak out of turn, though there seemed little that could be done about it. Emmaline could tell from the scent that the potion was a combination of mineral oil and perfume, though what purpose it served, if anything beyond the cosmetic she couldn’t tell. Her fingers flexed, did she dare try a spell? Zar Tan Zhou would certainly be expected it, but how long did she dare wait before acting?