Taylor lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. Emma had somehow become a dragon, like herself, and had come looking for her at home. Then, as suddenly as she had appeared, the great green wyrm had vanished. To where, no one knew.
Well, she suspected that at least one person knew where Emma had been moved to, but she didn't like to bother either of her patrons without good reason. Normally, they were the ones who came to her, not the other way around. Which was bothersome, but Taylor suspected that not poking dragons with a stick also applied to dragons bothering other dragons.
Another ten minutes staring at the ceiling and she decided that she needed to clear her head. And Vicky had been right, the best way to do that was flying. She could see why the girl loved to fly so much. Unfortunately Vicky couldn't multitask very well and cleared her mind too well, and the result was a running count of how many structures she had flown into or through.
However, there was one place she could fly, and not have to worry about buildings or people trying to kill her, or even the minor, more annoying than dangerous villains that had taken the place of the gangs in Brockton Bay.
"𝕷𝖆𝖎𝖗." With that, Taylor popped out of her bedroom and arrived in her lair.
With her arrival in the chamber, the magical illumination activated, filling her lair with a warm glow. She noticed some work had been done since the last time she'd been here. The floor and the walls had been expertly smoothed. Her pile of treasure was still intact and nothing appeared to be missing. The ceiling now formed a groined vault that looked immensely strong.
The doors to the two side rooms were now very nice. Instead of the rough cut timber from before, these looked to be expertly made and finished. The hardware appeared to be bronze or brass, and while the artistic style of the castings was unfamiliar, they functioned as expected. She turned the door knob, and the door opened easily. The room she was looking into had been fitted out as a storeroom, with sturdy shelves lining the walls, and a couple of strong boxes and barrels along one wall not covered by shelves.
There were a few items on the shelves, what appeared to be preserved food, a couple bottles of wine on a wine rack and a large wheel of cheese that smelled vaguely like cheddar.
The other room was fitted out as a bedchamber, complete with a wardrobe and chest of drawers and a vanity table and mirror. The bed was probably queen or king sized, and was currently unmade and bare. A quick check of the chest at the end of the bed revealed it contained bedding; sheets, some really good blankets, a comforter and some pillows.
The wardrobe was empty, along with the chest of drawers and Taylor couldn't smell that anyone else had been in her lair since last she'd been here.
So what had happened?
She walked to where the entrance of the lair should be, and found a pair of massive doors set in a new wall. The bar for the doors was currently engaged, meaning that no one could get in unless someone on this side opened it. Or could teleport in some way. She turned the wheel attached to the bar's hinge, and it swung out of the way, unlocking the doors. A gentle push, and the doors swung easily, allowing her access to the ledge.
And the first surprise.
"Yo!" The angel? Being? That she had met her when Bahamut had wanted to talk to her in her dream was sitting outside the door. It appeared that there were some lodgings built into the side of the mountain her lair was a part of. "Nice to see you back. Since we didn't get introduced last time, I'm Varchaniel." The tall lanky angel dressed in a red leather duster held out his hand. "Friends call me Vash."
Taylor cautiously shook it. "Naurelin. Could you tell me what happened here? Things are a bit different than when I was last here. Not that I'm minding too much."
"Yeah, I figured that would get your attention," the trumpet Archon said. "Bahamut has us, us being me, Florence, Roma and Baebe – who aren't here right now – watching your lair. The work crew at his place ran into a supply chain issue, and their boss decided that they needed something to do. Dwarves are happiest when doing something. So, the Big B set them to modestly improving your lair, and making it far more secure."
"OK, that explains a few things, and the doors definitely make it harder to just walk in and take stuff," Taylor admitted, "but I would have liked to have been told."
"Ha, Flo was right!" Vash exclaimed with a laugh. "Granted, it was kind of hard to get a hold of you while you were in Sigil after you talked with Bahamut and Tamara that one time to actually tell you about it. We made sure everything was left alone while they worked, not that Moradin's crew would steal anything. Honest to a fault, and they were paid out of Bahamut's funds. Tiamat provided the furnishings."
"That's nice," Taylor said. "I think." With things coming from Tiamat, it was usually best to check them carefully for hidden "features." Not all of them were intentional.
"The Big B argued that furnishings and bedding would be pointless, because even he didn't know if you would ever be staying here long enough to ever need the wine or bedding," Varchaniel admitted. "Still, the chest at the end of the bed is enchanted to keep moths and things from eating the bedding, as is the wardrobe and drawers. Standard preservation enchantments for the storeroom, of course."
"Your boss doesn't know how to do subtle, does he?" Taylor asked, though she already knew the answer.
"Actually, he does," Varchaniel replied. "He normally prefers to provide information, healing and shelter rather than confronting his follower's problems directly. Make no mistake, though, he's no coward and if pressed, will engage his enemies decisively."
"Are you telling stories about me again, Varchaniel?" Bahamut's human guise appeared on the edge of the ledge that was the landing platform.
"Eh, no Boss," Varchaniel stated, scratching at the back of his head. "She had some questions, I was trying to answer them."
Bahamut nodded. "I know. You can go now, I'll take over for a bit."
Varchaniel bowed. "You're the boss, Boss." And with that, he vanished, leaving behind a few motes of light.
"I apologize for the impromptu renovations," Bahamut said. "To be honest, though, these were to be done earlier and before you gained access to this place later, instead of vice-versa."
"I think I understand. Someone, whose name we won't mention, gave me early access to this place before it was finished, correct?"
Bahamut nodded. "That is, essentially, correct. Resulting in schedules being rearranged and this work delayed."
"I appreciate the thought," Taylor added. "And I was trying to figure out how to add some amenities to the place, so I'd be ready to host my father here for a few days in case something happened."
"Understandable, given that the Endbringers were still a going concern at the time when we set this up," Bahamut admitted. "One scenario had you evacuating most of the population of the city to this area when Leviathan attacked your home.
"And because of something happening, all those plans weren't needed," Bahamut continued. "Which brings me to why I'm actually here." He gestured, and a pair of camping chairs – comfortable looking ones – appeared. "Please, sit, and I need to ask you what you know about Falazure."
Taylor sat in the provided chair; it was as comfortable as it looked. "I know Falazure was the Draconic god of decay, undeath, and exhaustion. From what I've been told and read, there was a falling out and he went straight from that to corruption and destruction. Tamara did something to him in the past that nearly destroyed him, and he was imprisoned somewhere."
Bahamut nodded. "What is not mentioned is that Tamara is Falazure's sister. Do not ask how that works, because normal biology doesn't apply to the first generation of dragons. They are opposite sides of the same coin, and bitter enemies."
"Makes sense," Taylor answered. "Almost standard for mythic narratives, actually."
"After Tamara sacrificed herself, Chronepsis, myself, and Lendys threw Falazure's portion of the Dragon Eyrie into the lowest pit of Carceri." Bahamut sighed. "We suspected that was where his phylactery was hidden, but had never found the cursed item. By dropping it and his lair sans hoard into the deepest of the Tartarian pits of Carceri, we made sure he would at least reform his body there and be imprisoned. And for a while, it worked.
"But the genocide of Dragons still continued. And then another being made a simple mistake," Bahamut explained. "Eons of bargains were rendered null and void, and my sister was furious. She expressed her displeasure in the most unsubtle way possible, disrupted a war that is as old as the multiverse, reclaimed all of her powers of old, and lost everything her black heart held dear."
"Chidanul said something about that when we talked in Sigil," Taylor said. "Tiamat wandered the Outlands for a couple of decades, and then disappeared. She's mentioned about trying to get some reading material in Sigil, only to have Her follow her around until she left."
"So Chidanul still lives," Bahamut mused. "He was critical of the war between dragons, and told me to my face to leave him out of it, and hoped I suffered for my part in it." The king of the metallic dragons shook his head. "Like any father, I grieved when a child died. Children, grandchildren, and great-many times-grandchildren are all gone. So yes, even though he knew it not, I was suffering for my part in the internecine fighting going on." Bahamut looked up at the darkening sky.
"I forgave him for the cruelty he did to the man who broke his daughter's spirit, and considered his atonement complete," Bahamut continued. "The fact that he moved his lair into the city of Sigil does not surprise me. And we appear to have gotten off on a tangent."
"Kind of like one webforum I read, SpiceBottles.com," Taylor said. "It's strange how talking about what seasonings are good for certain recipes leads to a discussion about the airspeed of a fully laden swallow."
"African or European?" Bahamut asked with a smile. "Hlal has shown me Monty Python and the Holy Grail. I found it amusing." He gestured, and a campfire appeared, already lit and providing some warmth against the chill of the evening.
"We – Tiamat, Hlal, and I – suspect Falazure is behind a number of recent happenings," Bahamut explained. "Not long ago, his agents kidnapped a pair of young women who should be familiar to you, and through a warped and torturous version of what we did to you, transformed them into dragons.
"So, it actually was forced on them?" Taylor asked quietly.
"Yes, and instead of drawing on ambient magic to fuel the process, Falazure used their life force." Bahamut shook his head. "The person you knew as Sophia is no more, nearly all of her humanity is gone, though that may have been the case before she was kidnapped. She has no memories left of her life from before her transformation. Tiamat suspects that the reason for her to be treated like that was to be a replacement for Falazure. That one is staying where she is until a more permanent location for her is prepared."
"And then there's Emma," Taylor said, her voice flat as she suppressed her emotions.
"Yes," Bahamut continued. "Why she was transformed is less clear. Tamara managed to heal what was left of her. In her own words, Emma said it was best that she should be considered dead, and to live the remainder of her life as the monster she had been."
Taylor began to laugh. It wasn't a happy laugh. Bahamut had last heard that specific kind of laugh from Zariel when he had wanted to talk to his sister in her citadel on Avernus. It had also started a fight that reminded the armies of the Nine Hells that Bahamut was not to be trifled with.
"No way," Taylor finally said. "No way in Hell she gets off that easy," she cursed. "You said her transformation used her life force to fuel it, meaning she knows she's got a limited amount of time left before she dies. She should get Naichi's sentence for Tiamat. Live."
"I actually agree with you," Bahamut said. "That would be justice. To live with all the consequences of her actions, with her past nature now visible for all to see. We're trying to figure out how to make that happen.
"However, until that time, we'll try to keep you more in the loop." He rose from the chair. "I believe you wanted to fly for a bit, to help clear your mind? If you still wish to, would you mind company?"
"I'd be honored, Sir."
