Agony raced through Inthracis; his breath caught, and his muscles spasmed. He arched his back, gritted his teeth, but dared not move farther or protest.

"For you?" Vhaeraun whispered in his ear. "For you this: my gratitude, something that is beyond price."

Vhaeraun clutched Inthracis's second heart, stopping it.

Inthracis's vision went blurry. He struggled to draw breath.

"Oh," Vhaeraun said, "and also the destruction of Kexxon and your ascendance to the position of Oinoloth and Archgeneral."

Hearing those words, Inthracis could not contain a grin.

Despite the agony, he managed to hiss, "You are most gracious, Masked Lord."

Still wearing the same smile, Vhaeraun set Inthracis's hearts again to beating with two flicks of his forefinger and withdrew his arm, which became instantly corporeal. Inthracis inhaled sharply, sagged, and kept his feet only through sheer pride.

After he had recovered himself, Inthracis located Vhaeraun-across the room at the desk again-

and asked, "What size force is appropriate, my lord?"

"An army," replied Vhaeraun with a derisive wave. "Muster on the new Demonweb Pits, on the Ereilir Vor, the Plains of Soulfire. My mother is not yet sensate enough to muster her own forces to stop you."

Inthracis debated with himself before asking, "And what of Selvetarm, Masked Lord?"

Vhaeraun's face twisted in anger, and he said, "He will not trouble you. My mother has removed the Pits to their own location in the multiverse and sealed them against entry by the divine-any divine. Events there are beyond the reach of other gods, now. I cannot enter to destroy her, but neither can Selvetarm enter to protect her. Unless he has guessed at my ploy-"

Vhaeraun's contemptuous tone indicated that he did not think Selvetarm could guess the sum of two and two-"you will face the mortals alone."