He put the unread scroll down on a table that was crowded with various shaped flasks and jars. He raised one that held a clear, blue liquid up to the light of an oil lamp, and swirled it around, as if he were studying the consistency of its contents. It was thick, like honey. Satisfied with what he saw, he carefully poured a drop of the stuff into another flask that was full of what appeared to be dirty, yellow urine. He swirled that mixture around, until it changed into a bright, greenish color, and then raised it to his nose and sniffed.
“I’ve got a task for you, my little friend,” he said to the imp, before downing the contents of the flask. Only a minor look of distaste crossed his colorless face as he swallowed.
Inkling scurried closer, shifting into his true to form as he did so. The lamp light reflected brightly off of his shiny red scales as he shivered his leathery wings with anticipation. As terrible as his devilish visage was, the horns, the pointed ears, and the needle like teeth, the imp would have a hard time intimidating anybody, as he was the size of a child. He didn’t get to leave the tower often, so the idea of a mission for his Master excited him greatly. He was hissing and ringing his little clawed hands together nervously, when Pael finally told him what it was that he would do.
“At the Summer’s Day Festival, you’ll find the truest of hawker’s. You are to purchase a dozen hawkling eggs from them, no matter how much the price. You’ll do this in a mannish form.”
Inkling sighed in disappointment. Pael grinned, because he had expected this reaction. He drew out the rest of his instruction, just to taunt the imp.
“Once the eggs are secured, seek out Lord Gregory.” Pael sat the empty flask down on the table and paced a few steps across the room. Inkling all but ran into him when he stopped, and Pael had to bite back his laugh. Seeing that he’d tormented the little devil long enough, he ended the suspense. “When you find Lord Gregory, kill him.”
“Yesss master!” The imp hissed gleefully. His feet were rising and falling in place, causing him to rock back and forth. It almost looked as if he were dancing. “Can I eat his flesh?” he asked.
Pael held out a pouch full of gold coins.
“Once you’ve secured the eggs, contact me in the ethereal. Then, as far as my concern runs, you can eat everyone at the festival. Now go, before the hawker clan heads back up into the hills.”
Inkling pranced a step and half away from his master then snapped open his leathery wings and took to the air. He then changed into the form of a large buzzard, snatched the bag of gold from Pael’s hand, and flew out the open window.
A great sigh of relief escape Pael once the imp was gone. Now, he could get something done. He floated over to the lift and rose smoothly up to the uppermost floor of his tower.
It was dark, save for the light of four flickering candles spread evenly around the room at waist level. Every surface of the chamber was blackened so deeply that the walls were nearly invisible. It was as if Pael, and four little flames, were hovering in empty black space. Pael spoke a quiet word and his lift lowered out of the room. The light that shown up through the hole in the floor illuminated the space and made the area seem small again.
Pael began turning a wooden crank on the wall that was attached to a chain. A clanking, ratcheting sound filled the silence as a huge crystal sphere began to lower from the ceiling. It was so big around, that three men holding hands might have trouble reaching their arms around it. It hung in an iron ring that had three evenly spaced chains leading up and out of it into the darkness. The crystal sphere slowly came down to rest, cradling itself in the hole in the floor where the lift had just been. The top of the globe was now at chin level to Pael and the light from the hole underneath it made it glow faintly from the inside.
Pael kept turning the crank, until the chains lay slack across the floor, and then he walked completely around the ancient artifact, examining it. After a moment, he stopped, and even though he was alone and the room was dark again, he pulled the hood of his robe up over his bald head. He was careful to make sure that the top of it hung down over his eyes. He then raised his arms and began to chant.
The wizard went slowly at first, because it was hard for him to get the inflection and the tone of his voice the way he wanted it. Soon, the chant picked up its tempo, and became smooth and rhythmic. Pael then began to circle the orb quickly and his strange voicing became even faster and took on a melodic quality.