In a well-appointed coach being driven at furious speed, Kristijan held Celesta tightly in his arms. Bound as she was, she would have otherwise bounced helplessly off the walls and ceiling.
The Baron would have preferred a journey less hair-raising and more triumphant, but he could still maintain his mind shield and plan under it.
Djinni Saleem could not stay on the Prime Material for long, but he had the physical and magical power to deal with many Imps and many material enemies simultaneously. He was probably best used in that way, to create an enormous distraction, rather than to concentrate on one specific, or subtle, action.
By now the core of the plot must have been unmasked by Gaspar. Stokavskis or other Kalnichovs might be following the renegade couple, but they would be far behind.
His own people were guarding his body, ignorant of the events swirling around them. He wished he could tell them, but it was not essential.
When his soul was delivered to Dey-nom-Nazadlan, the Lich would also have his simulacrum. Would he try to force the Baron into it? Now that would be strange and unnatural! But maybe it would be enough for whatever dark ritual he intended.
“Focus, Iglacias!” the Baron thought. “If Celesta told the truth, like any good liar, she is your primary tool to distract Porter. Distract him severely enough, and nothing else matters. His own Imps will carry him off to his proper plane.”
After some two hours travel, they stopped at the base of Black Pass to change coach horses and take a brief rest.
The party was tantalizingly close to the Baron’s party and body—they had fled down this trail only the previous evening. Kristijan kept Celesta under watchful eye until they re-entered the coach and it lurched and pounded its way up Black Pass.
The day had broken foggy and cloudy. Now the fog cleared but the clouds became thicker and lower. Rostov wondered if Mother Nature was setting a stage.
Another two hours found them at St. Theodosia’s, where the Lich waited clad in antique robes with Bob Packer and Sarah Booles flanking him, as formally dressed in modern clothes. Each had an Imp perching on one shoulder, and others loitered near around the area.
“This is not good,” thought the Baron. “Porter is expecting a climax to this affair very soon.”
“Take care of your horses,” Mr. Packer ordered the men escorting the passengers, “and get some food. But keep your eyes and ears open. Remember you’re still on duty.”
Beside Mr. Packer stood Baron Iglacias Rostov, or so it seemed. The simulacrum looked to be in good condition; if the Lich had abused it physically, the damage did not show. Its shoulders were free of Imps.
As his brother and sister got out of the carriage, the Lich walked stiffly to them and embraced Kristijan. “Brother! It is good to see you in person again at last.” The Baron did not think Kristijan returned the embrace quite as enthusiastically.
Mr. Porter turned to Celesta and put a hot, sweaty hand, covered with inflamed scratches, under her chin. The Lich’s breath stank. Celesta felt some alarm; the wizard felt some relief. If Mr. Porter forgot enough of the details required to keep a living body healthy, it might die. He was a very powerful Lich but clearly also unstable.
“My sister! Forever my inspiration!” He hugged her, a little clumsily, but did not try to kiss her. Love, admiration, and revulsion warred in her, and she finally responded, “My brother! Vessel of our greatest hopes!”
“Nice parallelism! Do the Stokowskis teach their women rhetoric?” the Baron asked her. Celesta ignored him, unamused.
Mr. Porter drew back and looked deep into her eyes. “Is our friend still in there?”
“Oh, yes,” she replied.
The Lich pulled his lips back in a deathly grin. “We will have him out soon, my sister.”
“Good!” said Celesta.
“Good!” thought the Baron, and he took over her body to laugh. Then he spat at Kristijan, shouting, “That is from your cousin Gaspar!” He spat at Mr. Porter. “And that is from me!”
As the wizard drew back Celesta’s leg to kick the Lich’s shin, Mr. Porter struck her so hard she fell backwards to the ground.
The Baron let Celesta’s pain from the uncontrolled fall produce an involuntary wail. Kristijan lunged at Mr. Porter and grabbed him by his robes. All the Imps froze in place.
Then Kristijan muttered, “Reflex defense of Celesta. Sorry!” and released his brother.
Mr. Porter helped Celesta to her feet, remarking, “A clever move, Baron. It will be your last clever move, I assure you.”
“I doubt it,” Celesta huffed, “unless you get him out of me, soon. He has been so much trouble!”
“Has he hurt you?” asked her brother darkly.
Celesta flexed her jaw in answer, then shook her whole body in frustration. “Just get him out of me! I want to use my hands, Radi!”
“Inside, then!” Mr. Porter ordered. The party moved into the church, Imps hopping up onto the shoulders of those yet lacking one.