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Gale could tell at once that the demoness had the wrong idea about their private conversation when he found himself pressed hard against the wall outside Karlach’s room with Mizora’s mouth on his, and her hands trailing all over his body. He hadn’t even had a chance to say anything.
He also didn’t quite know how to interrupt… this. Whatever this was.
It had been so long since someone touched him like this - he was briefly taken aback as his body responded eagerly, and without his permission. After a few seconds, he gently began to peel the devil away, extracting her hand from the waistline of his pants. He was breathing heavily when he looked up into her sultry eyes and said:
“Oh, I uh. Hello. I really did just want to talk.” Gale crammed as much apology into his facial expression as he could muster, to conceal the bewilderment bubbling up inside.
“Oh!” She squeaked, wrenching her hand away as if she’d touched a hot stove - clutching it to her chest with wide, startled eyes.
She quickly straightened her rumpled dress, smoothing the deep ‘v’ at her front into an enticing shape between her breasts, trailing down to her flat tummy. She rest one hand on her waist, resuming the posture of a she-devil at work.
“Well then, what is it I can do for my dearest pet’s most dangerous little friend?”
Gale paused, already off track again. “You think I’m dangerous?”
Mizora’s laugh rang out like bells being run over by a horse carriage.
“Of course you’re dangerous. All of you are.” Her right hand was back on his chest, using her fingers to make little steps in a path up his shirt, punctuating each word until her fingertips lingered on the visible orb scar. “But. You. Are. The. Walking. Bomb.”
Gale wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that revelation as he forged on, clearing his throat one more time.
“Mizora.” He was completely thrown off and thoroughly unused to being speechless.
“Yes!” She mocked him with a little salute and a wide, sarcastic smile. He sighed and tilted his head back to rest against the wall, rolling his eyes dramatically.
This wasn’t going anything like he’d planned. Alright, maybe he hadn’t planned this at all . But he was usually better at talking, negotiating - anything. He had to drive the proverbial cart back to the road.
“Mizora. Is it possible you’d be willing to make a deal that doesn’t involve a soul?”
It was easier to say it to the ceiling.
The devil stilled in his peripheral vision.
“What did you have in mind?”
He popped open the next door to his own room, which he shared with Astarion… who seldom returned to his own bed anymore. Gale truly didn’t mind the privacy, almost none had been available since the nautiloid. He directed her over to the wooden table and two chairs in the corner. With a genial expression, he pulled out a seat and gestured for her to sit down, the picture of hospitality.
His mother would have been appalled if he was anything less than the perfect host, and devils were absolutely no exception.
Mizora’s eyebrows lifted so high at the presented chair that Gale thought they might leave her face entirely. She briefly glanced over her shoulder, rolling it while a barely-visible ripple of shimmering silver magic flowed over her from head to toe – as if someone had poured water over her hair to end a spell.
Her skin’s hue melted from her typical blue to a more human pallor, and the wings disappeared as she shook the horns right out her hair.
A rather elegant transformation, he mused privately, offering her a cautious smile.
She took a step forward and gracefully sank into the seat as Gale moved to pour tea in the matching cups before them.
“Ahh, wings. Of course. Your human form is quite lovely.” He set the teapot down on the platter.
He had been grateful to return to some creature comforts upon arrival in Baldur’s Gate. Once their rented floor at the Elfsong had been secured, he had plied their resident youngling chef with a few extra coin to keep his room stocked in his favorite brew - a sweet pear tea imported from the Chionthar Valley. The aromatics filled the air and reminded him a little of his home in Waterdeep. He did his best to ignore the homesickness that had seeped into his bones in the past few tenday.
“Thank you, wizard.” She nodded to him as she adjusted somewhat awkwardly in the chair, hands clasped in her lap and ankles delicately crossed to the left. She kept an eye on the teacup as if it might bite her, glancing at Gale as he sat himself across from her amicably, and sipped his tea.
He watched her body language. It was stiff, expectant, as if she knew how a lady should carry herself, but hadn’t used it in practice. Her posture looked uncomfortably rigid, pressed into the back of the chair like she was fighting it for space. He picked up a plate of cookies Yenna had left out for him, and held it towards her.
Mizora stilled again, and then carefully, slowly reached for one of the sugared lemondrop cookies presented to her. She daintily took one from the plate and held it, staring at the wizard expectantly. He cocked his head to one side, examining everything that had changed about her bearing.
Where was the haughty devil mistress, and who was this meek, nervous woman?
“I know you can eat, Raphael invited us to dine with him several tendays ago.”
“Well maybe I’m not hungry! I am not RAPHAEL.” She snapped, silver-blue eyes blazing. She crossed her arms again and looked away with a huff, but the cookie remained delicately pinched between her pristinely lacquered thumb and fingertip.
This entire conversation was confusing Gale.
“I apologize; I would not have intentionally offended you. Can I offer you any other sort of refreshment?” Her eyes widened a little as she continued to fixate her stare on the wall.
“No – I…. No. Thank you. This will be fine.” It sounded more like she was trying to convince herself than him.
After a beat, she finally said “Well, what is it? You’re not looking for a carnal affair with the demon down the hall, so what is it I could possibly help you with?”
He regarded her gravely.
“I will not waste time regaling you with flowery words when you already know the ‘why’ of my desire. We need to fix Karlach. And you know how.” Gale took another sip of his tea before setting the cup back in its saucer.
Her eyes were deadly serious now, an interesting contrast to the tiny cookie she still held just above her crossed elbow.
“And you mentioned… a deal? One you’d like to leave your soul out of.” Her eyes narrowed.
“Yes. We saw Astarion do it with Raphael. Information for a kill. I don’t know if you have any tasks like that, but I can’t offer you my soul. I have it on good authority that it won’t survive the netherese blast that will end my life, and I wouldn’t want you to think I had intentionally reneged on our deal.”
Mizora’s stormy, human eyes shot to Gale’s, shocked. “You don’t want to offer a deal for your soul, because you think it would be cheating?”
“Well, yes.” He picked up his cup and took another sip, watching her over the rim of the cup. Mizora’s eye contact was intense to hold as she calculated for a beat.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
Gale was taken aback by the question. His impressions of devils had lead him to believe they would claw for any shred of power they could reach, not check for consent. He was puzzled by her entire bearing.
“Yes. I don’t start things I don’t intend to finish, Mizora.” He said quietly, folding his hands into his lap and looking out the window. “If I have to destroy myself completely in order to end the threat of the Absolute once and for all - as Mystra instructed me to - then I’d like to make sure all of my friends outlive me. Including the one that is currently dying in the room two doors away from mine. Hells, especially that one.”
Mizora stared at him for a while as she mulled it over.
“How do you even know I have a solution for Karlach’s little ‘problem’?” She used her pinkies to simulate quotation marks in the air as she emphasized the last word, cookie still gently clutched in her left hand.
What a curious creature, outside the context of Wyll, he thought.
Gale leaned in conspiratorially, elbow on the small table to close some of the distance between them and caught another whiff of citrus and incense. Sweet and smokey - just like her.
“Because you wouldn’t still be here if you didn’t.” He tilted his head toward her “And you have been waiting for someone to figure that out.” He drummed his fingers, waiting a beat for a reply.
When she remained stonily silent, he ventured “There’s more, isn’t there? If Karlach dies from that engine, Zariel is just going to claim her in the afterlife, isn’t she? Straight into her inner circle – your domain. You abhor Karlach. And if she had no reason to leave ever Avernus again… hmmm, I’d wager that you don’t want to spend eternity with her, any more than she does with you.”
His eyes narrowed, meeting hers with an intensity that Mizora was not accustomed to - his voice dropping lower to deliver the final blow.
“And you are pretty sure Karlach is going to get a promotion. Maybe even over you.”
Mizora’s face was pale, frozen in a state of shock, resembling a statue. The clouded eyes of this human form he was less familiar with were wide, and didn’t blink for a few minutes - like she had forgotten.
She clearly wasn’t appreciating being read like a book and her reaction sent savage shivers down his spine. The clouds shifted outside and the sun changed Mizora’s hair from dusty crimson to a fiery copper. The chain jewelry that adorned her brow caught the light and cast glittering shadows upon the walls.
Gale had a dark heat roiling low in his gut as he locked eyes with the beautiful cambion, examining her response. He wasn’t ashamed of his attraction to ambition, but he wasn’t ready to face how intoxicating it was to feel power over Mizora.
She shifted, brushing her skirt further into place, carefully using the back of the hand that still clutched her dessert. It took another moment for Mizora to finally break her silence as she reshaped her face into something affable.
“How did you know?”
“That you have something to trade? A while.”
“No – the why of it.” Her lips pressed into a thin line as she waited for his reply.
“I realized when we were dealing with Raphael for Astarion at the Gauntlet of Shar, that you devils are just as susceptible to insecurity as the rest of us. He introduced himself with a very flattering wine and dine, suggested time was not on our side, and then continued to pursue us until we had something he wanted. I detect there’s something further he wants from us, still. I doubt telling us about the Profane Ascension ritual was his priority from the start, and he didn’t even try to claim a soul over the whole thing. If you ask me, Raphael is playing dangerous games by peddling Mephistopheles’ secrets, but it’s not my lanceboard game to play.”
“You think I’m insecure?” Incredulity and anger colored her tone as she straightened in her chair, her eyes sparking.
“I know you are. You wouldn’t have sent Wyll after Karlach without Zariel’s orders if you weren’t.” Gale could feel the self-satisfied smirk plastered on his face as much as he could tell it infuriated Mizora.
Any of his companions would be calling him out for his ego inflating during this conversation, but in the moment he was relishing the sensation.
The rush of control he felt almost erased the year of painful helplessness he had experienced since the orb had sapped his powers, since Mystra had cast him out of grace - since the tadpoles that had changed everything.
She was raging. Her free hand was digging into the armrest, nails scraping into finish.
“I don’t even have to be talking to you.”
“And yet! Here we are.” Gale’s sanctimonious little grin sent her over the edge.
Suddenly, the cookie she was holding snapped in half and jumped from her hands to the floor.
She gasped, startled, and then looked abruptly crestfallen - like a child whose favorite toy had been stolen. Mizora’s frown was almost comically pronounced as she stood, and Gale struggled with a strange urge to comfort the demon. He wordlessly picked the plate of cookies back up, offering another.
She sniffed and turned away, facing the window as she shifted, wings settling in behind her as she returned to her demon form. She stretched like a tressym, wings extending wide and tall for a moment as she arched her shoulders backward and splayed her hands across the edge of the windowsill. When she finished rotating her neck from the stretch, her eyes returned to his – obsidian, with amber fire again.
“FINE. She snapped, eyes blazing while the sunset lit up her har. “What are you proposing? You must have something in mind, you clever wizard.”
He let out a laugh, shifting his tone. “Well, what do you want? I’ll be honest Mizora, as clever as you might think I am, I don’t really know what I have to offer a cambion of your esteemed stature.”
She turned around in time to see him risen from his seat, bowing from the waist in recognition of her status. Arms crossed, she nodded, appreciating the deference and acknowledgement of her rank. She preened, looking at fingernails. She languished in another minute of Gale’s patient gaze before she said anything, regaining her poise.
“I spotted - through my dear pup’s eye - that you have command of an imp, and can speak primordial Ignan. Is that correct?” The demoness's voice was businesslike - clipped. Taking control of the queries.
Gale was stunned to discover she knew so much about him. “Why do you know that?”
“Oh any devil knows the only difference between a halfrate wizard and a powerful warlock is a little paperwork - and a good time.” She closed the distance between them as she looked playfully down at him through her lashes. Electricity crackled through Gale and he blushed hard.
Mizora placed a manicured hand on his chest and leaned in seductively.
“It was ever so easy to keep an eye on you, with your deliciously naughty netherese-tainted heart.” She ran a fingernail down his collar along his exposed chest near the orb. “It was a good idea to create a failsafe plan in case you died before you stabilized it. My sisters and I wondered if you’d forsake your pledges to Mystra to ask one of us for help before the end. I do admit long-term surprise that you’re asking on behalf of someone else , instead.”
Gale took an unconscious step back for air, the heady fragrance of citrus, dragonsblood, and a touch of incense overpowering his senses as she sensually stole control of the interaction, towering over him.
Despite her advances towards several members of his camp, he’d not had a lot of opportunity to converse with the she-devil directly. Their little negotiation had become a dance he wasn’t strictly prepared for. He couldn’t have imagined Mizora was keeping tabs on him since day 3 of their journey, or even, maybe sometime before?
Her touch was warming his skin as she closed the distance again and pressed the length of her body against his side. As disturbing as the notion of being watched should have been, he felt a curious rush of adrenaline – goddess or devil, there’s always something intoxicating about being pursued by a powerful woman. He tried to remember why he was even talking to her.
Oh, right. Karlach, the woman likely to immolate to death in this very suite.
He cleared his throat and started again, so close he had to look up to meet her eyes directly. Meeting Mizora eye-to-eye was intimidating, intense. She was wearing her devil-may-care mask again with a smolder in her blackened amber eyes that threatened to melt his knees right out from under him.
“What would you have of me, then?” He breathed, shifting the glowing tresses on her shoulder and he realized how close she truly was.
Feeling behind him, Gale noticed that he had unconsciously backed all the way into the closed door of his bedroom. His mouth suddenly dry, he gulped and it came out louder than he wanted. Mizora released a dark laugh and bent closer, bringing her face within a few inches of his and asserting her height.
“You know I might just have an employment opportunity for an enterprising spellcaster of exceptional acclaim.” Her nose nearly touched his as she leaned closer, bracing her arm against the door behind him.
Gale felt the heat rising in his face again and looked for an exit, not spotting an easy way out beneath the imposing woman. He knew this sensuality was merely an intimidation tactic, however well it was working.
He quickly looked away and misty-stepped across the room to the window, pivoting around to gesture back towards the table.
“Then shall we resume our negotiations? We can change venue if necessary, I’ve been assuming you can consume food and drink, after all, we can-“
“Of course I can eat, I can do anything .” She scoffed, pivoting her shoulders further away from his new position and flipping her hair over her pale shoulder as she turned. “Simply nobody has offered me so much as a nibble in hundreds of years. I used to love lemons.” The last part was a whisper as her eyes trailed back to the little plate on Gale’s table.
“W-why?” Gale was stunned. The lanceboard-style dance of their interaction faded to the background as his innately curious tendencies overrode his intent once again.
“I…thought they were delicious?”
“No, Mizora. Not the lemons. You haven’t eaten anything in hundreds of years? How is that possible?” In all his studies of the hells, this was new to him.
“I don’t need to eat to sustain myself. It’s a distant part of my past now. I’ve been busy.” Her wings fluttered, a hand waved dismissively as she looked toward the mirror perched on the wall. “It’s been such a very long since I was mortal.”
Silence.
“You were mortal?” It was Gale’s turn to be quietly mystified. “You were a human?”
“Yes, this isn’t actually a secondary form. It’s how I was born. Weak and human, just like you. But” she raised a finger at this point before continuing “ask me any more about my past and I’ll need to get a taste of that soul, sweetie.” She batted her eyelashes at him.
“Fair, fair, fair. I know I’ve been asking more than my share of questions from a magnanimous cambion, from whom I’m trying to extract a deal. Thank you for reminding me of my decorum.” There was a glint in his eye as he smiled wryly. He noticed Mizora’s eyes darting to the cookies again, and gestured toward the table, a reinvitation.
“Want to try again?”
She blinked at the plate again, and cautiously stepped back toward her seat. The wizard politely held up a hand and whispered an incantation. In the blink of an eye, the back of the chair was gone. He held out a hand to help her sit again before joining her.
She glanced about, seeming to realize he’d done it so she could sit comfortably with wings. So she could remain in whatever form she liked.
Repeating his earlier motion, he sat and lifted the plate towards her once more. She extended her hand, hesitating halfway into the reach. She was still a vision of indecent beauty lit from behind, but Gale noticed that the sun had definitely moved.
How long had he been having private tea with the devil? She clicked her nails together a few times before reaching out and gently accepting a fresh lemondrop. She held it closer this time, brought it to her face and sniffed it. She seemed to melt into the scent a little with a happy sigh.
The demon regarded the cookie with a slightly wistful expression.
“I don’t think I remember how,” she said, sadly.
“To eat?”
“Mmm-hmm.” She quietly sniffed the lemondrop again. Gale nodded, beginning to understand why she became so upset earlier.
He might have had a similar reaction. Who knew how anyone would have responded, in her position, he mused.
Gale realized he did know. All these months traveling with Persephone had given him experience with complicated relationships with food.
He gestured towards the tea and coaxed the surrounding magic in the air to heat the fluid in the cups and teapot, bringing it all back to a steaming temperature. He reached across the table and slid her teacup a few inches towards him with a finger on the saucer.
“Sugar?”
“….Sure.” Mizora watched intently as he scooped some of the sweetener from a bowl to her thin blue cup.
He raised an eyebrow as if to say 'was that enough?', and she replied with the tiniest of nods. Dipping the spoon into the cup, he swirled the fluid in circles until blended, and then gently pushed the cup back in front of her. She turned over her new lemon cookie in her fingers, looking at it in the light and watching him.
He looked into her eyes as he reached for his own cup, and took a careful, noisy slurp of the freshly steaming brew. He took care to let the tea coat his tongue and finish cooling before he swallowed. Returning the cup to its saucer, he picked up one of the lemondrops and brought it to his lips.
She was staring intently at his mouth as he took a small bite, taking care to demonstrate the act of chewing but making the greater effort to pretend he wasn’t trying to show her how it worked. He worked his jaw slowly, the cookie dissolving in his mouth before he swallowed, and looked at her expectantly.
Mizora looked down at the cookie she was still clutching and glanced at Gale one more time before lifting it to her lips. After the tiniest nod of encouragement, he was pleased to see her give it one more little sniff before wrapping her lips around the smallest portion, sinking her teeth into it.
Her face transformed immediately into a look of ecstasy and she “mmmm’d” in pleasure as she moved the morsel around her mouth. She blinked in surprise as it began to melt into sugar on her tongue and she looked at her cookie again, eyes wide. Her attention shifted back to Gale, a fathomless expression on her face.
With a touch of effort, she swallowed, and her lips parted in awe as she took a breath and moaned . A delicious little gasp escaped as she raised her other hand to shield her mouth from view.
“It’s so good!” She exclaimed, eyes closing in rapture.
Suddenly, her eyes darted around the table and the room, taking in everything as if she was waiting for a trap to spring. Maybe she had sensed something, as Gale’s door abruptly burst open without permission.
“MIZORA!” Wyll roared. “What are you doing with my friend?!"
He stared around the room, furious as he looked from first the bed, to the other bed, to the wall, to the pair seated at the table, ostensibly having a polite teatime and nothing more.
Gale lifted his eyebrows at Wyll’s confusion, an expression of barely restrained humor painting his face.
“Can I help you, Saer Ravengard?”
“What the hells, Gale.” Wyll’s face had shifted from heated anger to a deadpan annoyance.
“I am merely having an afternoon aperitif with our esteemed guest, a Lady of Avernus. May I inquire why you nearly broke down the door to my private space?”
“ Why are you talking to my patron in your private space?”
“You first, warlock.”
“Because it sounded like you were fucking her, wizard. Last thing anyone needs is to get tied to her like me.”
“You sound jealous, Wyll. Would you like a cookie?”
Mizora nearly gagged at Gale’s dry assessment, not bothering to restrain her mirth. Wyll was sputtering obscenities as he stormed away, his patron’s laughter chasing him out as he slammed the door behind him.
“Oh you are wicked, wizard. I think I might like you.” She purred.
“Shall we return to our earlier conversation, madam?” Gale gestured as if pointing to the past. “You had mentioned an employment opportunity that wouldn’t threaten my soul. Would you care to elaborate?”
“In order for us to have a deal, there will have to be conditions met on both sides, else it’s really just a favor. And devils don’t do favors, sweetie.”
“Naturally.” Gale replied with a nod, reaching for his teacup. He leaned back in his chair and adjusted his hands to grip the warmth against his chest, relaxing.
“So from me, you’re asking for a cure for Karlach. I cannot grant it directly, but I can shield your path, like I did for the pup’s father in his watery tomb. I can assure success only if you should perish in the process, but that kind of deal requires a soul. We will need other stipulations.”
Her shift back into a businesslike demeanor amused Gale, and he respectfully observed her while she thought out the terms verbally.
With a petite swipe of her fingers in the air in front of her, a plain sheet of parchment appeared in the air between them, facing her. Her first and middle fingers twiddled toward the parchment and words began to appear in black ink.
Gale was able to make out the script as light projected it backwards through the thin page, and he expressed surprise to see she was dictating the terms in common, rather than infernal like Wyll’s contract had been.
A contract with a devil. Mystra forgive him, he really hoped he knew what he was doing.
“Oh, no, sweetie. It’s always like that. Wyll can read his own contract, others cannot. Part of how Infernal Contracts work. Cazador could easily read what he scrawled on your friendly vampire’s back, after all. Context is everything. His penmanship is atrocious, by the way.”
The letters hadn’t stopped appearing on the page, thought most of it seemed like boilerplate. Most contracts were filled with enough basic jargon that Gale was able to follow the portion she was outlining defined their relationship not as patron and warlock, but devil and wizard.
“It’s good to know that merely signing with you won’t change my status from wizard to warlock. I rather like the powers I spent a lifetime cultivating on my own,” he mused aloud over another sip of tea.
Preoccupied, she scoffed. “You’ve cooked in the weave too long, you’re far more useful as the wizard you are than the warlock you could ever be.”
Gale blinked. Did she just imply he was more powerful on his own than she could make him?
Mizora didn’t seem to register how deeply flattered Gale was in that moment, and he kept it to himself. His heart was pounding in a peculiar fashion as she continued to outline her terms.
She paused after a few sections were completed and carefully, slowly, took another bite from the sugared cookie she still clutched, having held it aloft throughout the entire interruption from Wyll.
It must have been quite the sight.
Gale quietly chuckled to himself as he watched Mizora close her eyes and melt into the sensation of the dessert dissolving on her tongue.
“I must admit, if I had known I would be offering you your first bite to eat in centuries, I would have put more effort into the meal. I am quite a chef in my own right. I’ll cook for you sometime, and we can have another lovely chat.”
When her eyelashes peaked open at Gale’s playful tone, Mizora began to smile. It was a real smile, involuntary and full of light as her eyes danced with amusement.
“No, this… this is perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing. You can make me dinner some other night.” The sultry tone of her voice indicated to Gale that maybe he had just promised more than he had intended.
His mind paged through the possibilities of what she could have interpreted and landed on the idea that he might have just asked the devil on a date.
Mulling it over…he discovered that didn’t even hate the idea. After all he’d been through - everything he was meant to do next… perhaps he was entitled to some penultimate adventure before he died on the altar of forgiveness to a goddess who had cast him aside like a broken toy.
This was really not how he had anticipated his day going. The sun was getting low enough that the light outside was desaturating the colors from the room. He waved his hand and the candles peppered around his shared room ignited one by one in a clockwise burst to life around them.
Instantly brighter, the dancing flames invited a fresh sense of intimacy as Mizora cautiously picked up her tea, contract temporarily floating in midair beside her. She held the bottom edge with a delicate finger and tipped the hot cup towards her lips. Gingerly pressing the rim to her mouth, she allowed a little of the steaming drink to coat her tongue. Again, she took a second to relish the flavor with her eyes closed before licking her lips, pressing them together in a comfortable smile.
“That’s rather nice, too.” She sighed, opened her eyes, and replaced the cup on its saucer. The contract was back between them moments later, but her demeanor remained relaxed and pleased. “The boring parts are done, let’s discuss the particulars.”
“One, you need assurance this is going to work, and repayment if it doesn’t. I can’t fix Karlach on my own - she’s Lady Zariel’s creation and I’m bound to not unmake them.”
“You’re spelled to not be able to disrupt Zariel’s work?” Again, Gale had read two steps deeper into her statement, and come back with the right assumption. Mizora looked like she would have been infuriated if she wasn’t starting to be more impressed than she wanted to admit. She seemed to stop short of grinding her teeth together.
“Yes, actually. I can’t undo her work, which is why killing Karlach through Wyll was a loophole - one Lady Zariel has closed. Everything is contracts in the hells - everything.” She continued. “So we need an alternative clause to kick in as a failsafe. What other boon would you ask, other than a route to saving Karlach, should that have failed? If you keep up your end of the bargain, I will have to uphold mine. Any ideas?”
“I never thought about it. Coming to you…Karlach’s engine has been the priority. Is there anything relevant you can offer?”
She narrowed her eyes, lips pursed as she considered. She seemed to count on her fingers for a moment before she looked upward. Calculating.
“…What If I promised protection for Karlach - from demons, from Zariel - if she has to return to the Hells? If it comes down to it, and the resolution is inaccessible or doesn’t work. A lot of what you need will rely on that blacksmith, Dammon - and I can’t make promises based on his effectiveness. He’s not mine.”
“…That’s a very fair compromise, I bet Persephone could convince her to return if Karlach knew she wouldn’t have to go back to working for your Lady. What do you have in mind?”
“I would place Wyll in her permanent employ until such a time as her death or his, at which point his own contract would resume precedence. If she outlives him, I’ll assign her another warlock. Assigning him to bodyguard work, provided the cause is righteous, is one of his own addendums.”
Gale stared at her. He couldn’t believe it.
Not only was she willing to help him find a cure for Karlach, but if it didn’t work, she was promising his friend a lifetime of protection at the hands of the man she loved. They wouldn’t even be separated. Though living in Avernus wasn’t anyone’s first choice - and far from ideal… it was better than Karlach utterly combusting.
“What if she refuses to return to the Hells, if the repair doesn’t fix her?” Gale sensed he wasn’t going to like this particular answer.
“I can’t force her, Gale. You know how the Hells work - most of it is about consent or sin. I can’t even banish her there with how disgustingly good she is, not as the devil I am.” The softness in her eyes held an apology. “You could, though. I don’t think she would ever forgive you, but you have the capacity to make a portal with the right guidance. I don’t even have to sell you that information, there’s a powerful diabolist just a few streets away.”
She transcribed the new terms into flowery legalese as she summarized it verbally. Gale wracked his brain for a loophole he should find, but it sounded like a good idea all around. He wondered what the catch was.
“And now, for you.” Her amber eyes danced in the firelight, the flames in her eyes more pronounced than they had been in the sun of the afternoon. “I am in need of an arbitrator for a subset of my minions. They’ve unionized and refuse to talk to me directly anymore. Conveniently enough, you can already speak their language.”
Gale paused, considering. “Are you saying your imps rebelled?”
Her lips pursed a little in disapproval.
“I’m saying they’re demanding work benefits. Yurgir’s a rather high level orthon - his returning to the Hells just to end up eternally locked back in Raphael’s service sent a shockwave through the underlings. Now they’re all insisting they deserve better treatment after they’ve died in the material planes.”
“I mean, don’t they?” Gale ventured. She shrugged. “How long would I need to spend in the hells to accomplish your required union bargaining?”
“You’ll do so well.” Mizora purred, smiling wickedly. “You’ll need to come for a few days at a time, twice per year. But the first time, when you have to meet your clients, will be very soon. About 4 tendays from now. It goes without saying that if your little party doesn’t survive the Absolute, this whole contract is rendered void.”
There it was. He slumped back in his chair, disappointed.
“Well I’ve already made it clear I am not surviving our fight with the elder brain. I intend to teleport my companions as far away as my power will allow, but I will die when I detonate the orb to destroy it.”
“And that’s where you’re wrong. Your breach of contract clauses will be outlined as such.” Firey script embossed itself into the paper before him as she spoke.
“You will not detonate the orb,” she declared.
“But the crown -“
“ And you will not deliver the Crown of Karsus to Mystra.”
Gale was speechless. It went against everything he had committed himself to, yet she was still charging him with the destruction of the Absolute.
“Mystra commanded me to use the orb, and failing that to deliver the crown. She charged me with this via the wizard Elminster, why are you asking me to-“
“Remember what we said about too many questions, dear wizard.”
“Right, right. Devils get to be mysterious. ” Gale grumbled, arms crossed and staring at the bookcase in the corner. “I won’t trade the Crown for Karlach’s life, Mizora. I think asking me to deliver you godlike powers is beyond the pale.”
“I don’t want the Crown. Keep it for all I care. I just don’t want Mystra or Raphael to have it. Neither of them deserve the power.”
He froze.
“You think I do? ”
“Who’s to say? We’re getting off track. So yes, your charge is to find a way to defeat the Absolute without blowing yourself to bits, and not empower a goddess or a devil who will bring the hells spilling into the material planes again . Afterwards, you will function as an advisor-mediator for the imps in my employ on a biannual basis until all unionization efforts have been either permanently stymied or resolved.”
“You don’t want the power of the Hells to merge with the material?”
“Hells no, absolutely not. I like Avernus right where it is. So many pacts would become useless if hell was completely inescapable, and clients would dry up completely. Do you have any idea how long it took to recover from the Second Dragonspear War?”
His face was still questioning, hers inscrutable.
He waited.
She finally rolled her eyes dramatically and elaborated further.
“I haven’t forgotten that you were the one who rescued me from my prison in Moonrise Towers. Most devils would grant a boon for your service, I think a fair contract is the least I could do.”
Her eyes reviewed the document, checking for errors, magically moving a few words here and there with a fingertip sliding in midair. Gale thought he saw her fixing a spelling mistake, and smiled.
“I get the feeling that you’re not ‘most devils ’.”
“Now my dear wizard, if you continue to flatter me so thoroughly we’ll never be done before your companions return home for dinner.”
“Call me Gale.”
She blinked prettily, meeting his eyes directly again. There was a breath before she continued.
“Gale.” She tried it out with a playful lilt in her voice and she paused again, watching him pretend not to respond to the way she said his name. She clasped her hands on the table between them and leaned in, face evolving into a quiet ultimatum.
“Gale. If you detonate that orb, I will consider the entire contract rendered null, and I will ensure the detonation of Karlach’s engine, which will eternally tie her soul to Zariel. Really, not killing yourself is not all that difficult a term to follow. Not capitulating to a petulant goddess’s whims should be fairly easy. And now you have impetus.”
He was stunned.
Mystra had asked him to die.
Mizora was asking him to live.
She believed he was worth more to her alive than dead - and she didn’t even want to own his soul at the end.
“And the imps?”
She twiddled her fingers in the air dismissively.
“Just make every effort to make sure they’re out of my hair and doing their damned jobs. I’ll empower you to mediate on their behalf and move about Avernus at will.” She waved her hand, the scroll beginning to glow golden as it rotated to face Gale. “I don’t have time to handle employee relations. I need middle management and I’m curious how well a soulless deal will work out. Could even set a precedent.” She mused, eyes sparkling at the prospect.
Gale quietly began to scan the document. She picked up a third cookie and took her largest bite yet. She looked a little stunned for a moment as her jaw worked, and then pleased again as it melted away. She preoccupied herself with her treat and tea while he checked over the contract with arcane eyes checking for loopholes. He found none - because it was remarkably straightforward. One big question though -
“I don’t see a resolution date on the imp mediation thing. Is this a lifelong obligation?”
“It’s results-based,” she breezed, her cadence shifting into a pronounced and crisp legalese. “If the imps come to conclusion that they’re ready to sign an eternity-long contract stipulating the mediative terms you’ve established, you negotiate a release from your contract. As you’re already aware, there’s typically a six month waiting period. If you observe addendum 11, you’ll see that you have additional opportunities for advancement or more employment if you should choose to continue to offer your services at such a time this contract becomes null, in exchange for future boons left to be determined. If your initial assignment’s contract lasts the duration of your mortal lifetime, so be it.”
“That… actually seems quite reasonable. I’m sure if we have an amiable enough relationship during my tenure, we could continue to collaborate. I’m almost done reading.” Reaching for his cup, he took his final sip as his gaze approached the end of the page. Gale sputtered, nearly losing his mouthful of tea down the front of his shirt.
He read aloud: “Addendum 12: parties may engage in consensual sexual activities and spiritual intercourse without altering the terms of this pact! Mizora!”
“Just covering my bases, sweetie.” She purred, eyes glinting in the fading light. “That’s one of my standard riders.”
Mizora blinked at him sensually above the rim of her teacup as she took another measured sip. She was clearly getting reacclimated to drinking, and Gale cracked a smirk.
He didn’t see any problem with what he had read.
Gale looked out the window and saw the sky had gone nearly black. He wondered if Persephone was nearly done with her complicated spellweaving in the square, finally allowing his mind to wander back to the reason he had escaped back to their campsite-suite in the first place. Whatever she had been doing, he hoped it worked.
“And after we’ve signed, you’ll give me the means to save Karlach?”
“Not only will I tell you where to source the materials - I’ll introduce you to someone who can guide Dammon in the repairs when you get there. You follow my instructions, and Karlach can live in the material plane indefinitely - until the end of her natural lifespan, with exceptions of course factored in for her own impulsively self-destructive tendencies.”
He couldn’t resist the smirk that pulled at the corner of his mouth.
“Looks good to me, you devilish minx. Call your infernal co-signers. Let’s do this.” At his ready acceptance, Mizora’s smile was wide and wicked.
“I hope she appreciates what you’re doing for her. She might hate you for it.”
He privately agreed with her as she started chanting for her sisters to join her.
“Sorores surge. Testis esto pacti mei. ”
~*~*~*~
Wyll was looking extremely cross, leaning against the railing across from Gale’s door when Mizora and two of her hellish cohort finally strut from his room just before sunset.
“Thank you, sisters!” With a swish of her hand, portals of hellfire opened beneath Feena and Cirrus, sending the pretty cambion ladies back to the hells with little genial waves of goodbye. She walked past the warlock without stopping, stalking towards her favorite corner to lurk in with a spring in her step.
“He’s a good man, Mizora.” Wyll intoned.
“Ugh, I KNOW. It’s revolting.” Mizora stuck out her tongue with a little gag.
“You should leave him alone.” He continued.
“No…no. I don’t think I will.” She sauntered away from her pet warlock with an exaggerated sway in her hips, not a godsdamned thing he could do about it.
