Lan Zi BW XX

“I know my Aunt’s plans well now.” The voice belongs to the Lich, Guerin. Armoured and ready for battle, he stands before a palantir in a darkened room, illuminated only by the purple glow of the orb.

“Am I right to withdraw?” As the disembodied, hissing voice responds the orb’s light increasing in intensity.

A stammer before the Lich replies, “Yes my Lord; she has secretly aligned with your much despised rival.”

The voice is patient; a long intake of breath which rasps slowly over the palate, “I thought she would; and the Serpent?”

“It remains with both my aunt and your adversary.” Guerin’s reply is factual, offering no emotion.

“As we thought, even though the lackey was removed. What of Gos?” The voice’s tempo increases slightly and the hiss morphs into a deep rumble, as one with emphysema.

Guerin shuffles slightly, displaying his unease before answering, “It will be surrounded soon.” Keen to change the subject the voice asks, “And further south?”

“They have had no luck in removing the lotus.” Again the news is disappointing, although it would seem not entirely unexpected.

“Ahh…” it again recedes into a long, low hiss and, as if considering many things at once, the owner of the voice moves on increasing tempo with each phrase, “You must maintain your pretence…Loyalty to your master will be invaluable in the future. He must sense that he has the upper hand. How goes his negotiations?”

“He has yet to start in earnest; however, I know that his parley with my aunt was fruitful.” The interest is piqued again, “How so?”

“He has asked me again to discover a key”, the answer was matter-of-fact enough, although the consequence was not lost on the recipient.

“Those keys that the House of Dor forced the half-Gnomes to make?” The question was rhetorical – there was little that the voice did not understand.

“Yes; one in particular – one that leads to the secret place within Keffendir.” Clearly Guerin understood the consequences of the request but was less sure whether he should aid his master – was it in the interest of the voice?

“Why does he fret so much about a few of the second born?” the voice mused, “They must have something he desires.” Yes, that was it; Guerin waited as the owner of that hissing rasping voice considered what to do. “Did you not use one of the keys to gain secret entry into that foul woman’s den?”

“Yes, it was a gift from my aunt. As I said, the bond between them strengthens. It helps that they both enjoy the support of Niflheim.” Guerin sounds frustrated and a little confused. What was to be done?

Guerin’s comment seemed to merely confirm what the voice already knew. “Does she have more?” “I do not know – she may.” Of course she must, if only they knew for certain. What was the voice considering?

Its owner was keen to learn more, “And what of your last conversation with her?”

“It seems that she was successful – a little late perhaps – but she has her leader.” And as an afterthought, “She no longer needs my assistance.”

The voice remembers something, “What about the treasure hunters she sent you to destroy?”

“Well, I thought that while they lived they would be more of a burden to her than to us. They slipped from the Gnomes into Morgul, having defeated your rival’s treasured pet.” Guerin considers something for a moment, “Perhaps they should be encouraged and face our foes for us. We can always strike at a more appropriate time.” The pause was deafening, “ Rakos senses that the elf-witch has left the Prime. Do you wish that I follow her?”

Then the incredible, “No; they have come to my Kingdom.” How did he know? Why had he not reacted? Guerin was incredulous, “What? And you let them enter?”

“Of course,” the voice was calm and controlled, “They seek the Hearth that I allowed the half-gnomes to discover so long ago.” It took time for the message to sink in.

All that Guerin could manage pointed out the obvious, “If they manage to bring the artefacts together they could become a most serious threat.”

“But they will not and having the Hearth will only bring them more trouble. Your master must know that they have it.”

“My Lord he will pass on this intelligence to my Aunt and therefore your rival, not to mention the Wyrm.” Guerin is clearly perplexed.

“Quite so; and when they kill the fools I’ll welcome them to my halls.” the palantir slowly reveals the owner of the voice in its terrible malevolence – Orcus.