The vapor swirled together and congealed into a towering creature with purple-black hide, four arms, a vaguely lupine countenance, and a brand on its brow. Mari retreated and picked up a chair. Like every other article in her prison, the seat would fall to useless pieces if she tried to strike a blow with it, but perhaps the demon, if that was what the thing was, didn't know that.

Of course, it was ludicrous to imagine that such a horror might fear a nearly naked woman brandishing a chair in any case, but it was all she could think of to do.

The demon either smiled or snarled at her. The shape of its jaws was sufficiently unlike the structure of a human mouth that she couldn't tell which.

"Greetings, Tharchion," it rumbled. "My name is Tsagoth, and I've been hunting you for a while."

"I don't believe Aznar Thrul sent you," she said, struggling to keep her voice steady. "If he wanted you to molest me, he'd also want to be here when you did it. If I were you, I'd think twice about bothering me without his consent."

Tsagoth snorted. "You're right. I am here without the zulkir's permission, so scream for help if you think anyone will come. Let's get that out of the way."

It-or rather, he, for the hulking creature was plainly male- was right. She could try calling for help, but she wouldn't.

"No. No matter how bad it gets, I never beg the swine for anything."

Tsagoth's hideous grin stretched wider. "I like that."

His attitude didn't actually seem threatening. Rather, it was… well, something else, something anomalous.

Still wary, but increasingly puzzled as well, she asked, "You like what?"

"Your toughness. I know something of what you've endured, and I expected to find you ruined, but you're not. That will make our task easier."

"What task?"

"Killing Thrul, of course. Attaining your revenge."

She shook her head. "You don't look like you need help to kill anybody you take a mind to kill."

"You flatter me, Tharchion. I'm more than a match for most prey, but I'm not capable of destroying one of the most powerful wizards of your world. Nor, perhaps, is anyone, so long as he's on his guard and armored with his talismans, enchanted robes, and whatnot. But what about those occasions when he lays aside his staff, divests himself of his garments, and is enflamed and heedless with passion? Don't you think he might be vulnerable then?"

"You mean, you want to hide here and attack while he's… busy with me?"

"No, we can't do it that way, not when we don't know how many days or tendays it will be before he next visits you. I'm supposedly a slave here in the palace. If I go missing, people will search for me, and even if they didn't, I imagine Thrul would sense a third party-a denizen of the Abyss, no less-lurking in your chamber. You'll have to be the one to kill him, and though I know little of humans, I suspect you'll prefer it that way."

"I would if it would work," Mari said, "but I don't see how it can. His magic prevents any object that enters the room from serving me as a weapon and limits me in other ways as well. If he gives me a direct order, I have no choice but to follow it." No matter how degrading. She felt nauseated at the memory of the laughter of the sycophants he'd brought to watch her perform.

"You won't need a weapon if you are the weapon," Tsagoth said, "and your puppet strings will break if you cease to be the sort of creature they were fashioned to control."

"You want to… change me?"

"Yes." Evidently the mark on his forehead itched, for he scratched at it with the claws on his upper left hand. "I'm a blood fiend. An undead. As vampires prey on humans, so does my kind prey on demons, and like vampires, we can, when we see fit, share our gifts and essential nature with others."

"But you normally transform other creatures from the netherworld, don't you?"

"Yes," Tsagoth said, "and to be honest, I don't know if it will work the same on you. You mortals are fragile vessels to contain the power I hope to give you. I can only tell you that he who summoned me cast spells to increase the likelihood of our success."

"Who are you talking about?"

"I'm forbidden to say. Someone who wants to help you avenge yourself. Does anything else truly matter?"

Mari frowned. "It may. I'm willing to risk my life. As a warrior, I did it more times than I can remember, but if I change into something like you, will I still be the same person inside? Will I keep my soul?"

The blood fiend shrugged. The gesture looked peculiar with four arms performing it. "I can't say. I'm a hunter, not a scholar of such esoterica, but ask yourself if this spark you mortals prize so highly is truly of any use to you. Does it make your punishments and humiliations any less excruciating? If not, what good is it compared to a chance for retribution?"

Maybe he was right, and even if not, it abruptly came to her that in all probability, he was going to transform her whether she consented or not. Ultimately, he was as much a slave as she was and had no choice but to carry out his master's commands. He was offering her the opportunity to agree because… she wasn't sure why. It seemed preposterous to imagine that such a being could like her or consider her a kindred spirit, but perhaps her initial defiance had elicited a measure of respect.

If so, she was glad to have it. It had been a long while since anyone, even the servant who brought her meals, had shown her anything but contempt. She didn't want to forfeit that regard by showing fear, by obliging him to treat her as victim and pawn instead of accomplice, and perhaps that was what ultimately tipped the balance in her mind.

"Yes," she said. "Make me strong again."

Tsagoth grinned. "You were never truly strong, human, but you will be." He clawed a gash into the palm of his lower left hand and held it out to her. "Drink."

His blood was like fire in her mouth, but she forced herself to suck and lap it anyway.

Bareris wasn't sure if he was a guest or a prisoner of the gnolls, and at first he was nearly too sick to care. So-Kehur's curse of weakness was to blame. Ordinarily such afflictions passed quickly, but the effects of arcane magic, partaking as it did of primordial chaos, were never entirely predictable, and maybe some lingering vestige of the illness from which Bareris had only recently recovered rendered him particularly susceptible. In any event, it had taken him well into the next day to start feeling any stronger at all.

Thus, when, guards shouting and cracking their whips, the caravan resumed its trek, he'd had no choice but to simply lie and watch, not that he could have prevented it in any case. Lie and watch as Tammith's captors marched her away into the gathering darkness.

Once the procession vanished, the gnoll who'd dragged him back into the low place in the earth, thus hiding him from the Red Wizards and their minions, rose, hoisted him onto its back, and headed north. A head taller than even a lanky Mulan, the creature with its hyenalike head, coarse mane, and rank-smelling spotted fur manifestly possessed remarkable strength and stamina, for its long stride ate up the miles without flagging, until it reached the rude camp-three lean-tos and a shallow pit for a fire-it had established with several others of its kind.

Evidently they were all out hunting and foraging, for as the night wore on, they returned one or two at a time with rabbit, edible roots, and the like, which they grilled all together in an iron skillet. Bareris's rescuer-or was it captor?-insisted that he receive a share of the meal, and while some of its comrades snarled and bared their fangs, none was as big or powerful-looking, and their display of displeasure stopped short of actual resistance.