The Silver Sphinx

 

"Eternal life brings eternal hunger."

unknown vampire

 

 

Fourth Hive Day of Nihilum , 126 HR

As Naghûl stood at the grand entrance of Villa Loranóv, he felt a Sensate's joyful excitement at the prospect of a new experience, mixed with a certain wariness, the vigilance one should have when entering the home of an ancient vampire. Of course he was invited – Factol Erin had arranged a meeting with the Count – but no one could shake a certain unease when meeting with a powerful undead. House Loranóv was one of the oldest High Houses of Sigil, first mentioned in the year -1956 HR. Even back then, Count Mikal Loranóv had been named as head of the house. The house had survived all the major turbulences in Sigil's history unscathed, including the Great Upheaval of -502 HR. It was considered an extremely stable, but also inscrutable element in Sigil's high society. Although a house was actually characterized by having several members and this also applied to all the other High Houses of Sigil, House Loranóv apparently had only one member: Count Mikal Loranóv, an old and powerful vampire who had apparently lived in Sigil for a very long time. He was the head and apparently only member of the house, conducted its affairs and took on all representative duties. Now Naghûl was to meet with him on behalf of his factol to explore the chances of future cooperation.

The villa was centrally located in the Noble District, where Naghûl had been taken by a small cab. The large Gothic-style building looked exactly like he had often imagined a vampire's estate: built of dark gray stone, with ogival windows, all of which were covered by thick curtains, pointed turrets at the corners, imp-like gargoyles on the roof and surrounded by a high, wrought-iron fence with dark red roses growing in front of it. The large entrance door made of dark wood had a knocker in the shape of a devil's face, but Naghûl didn't need to use it. Just as he reached out for it, the door swung open slowly and silently. But there was no one at the entrance who could have opened it. Instead, the tiefling sensed a faint arcane signature. He nodded gently. Mysterious, slightly eerie – exactly what one would expect at a vampire mansion. The Count apparently didn't shy away from using some common clichés. Possibly he drew his own special enjoyment from it. After Naghûl had entered, the door closed behind him as silently as it had opened. He stood in a wide hallway, the floor made of beautiful parquet and covered with a red carpet, the walls paneled with wood and mounted with dark red brocade. The crystal chandeliers on the ceiling weren't lit, so only a dim light came through the gaps in the curtains. Since Sigil had no sun and vampires could therefore walk outside during the day without hesitation, the closed curtains weren't necessary. Naghûl suspected that this element, like the self-opening door, was simply meant to add to the flair of the mansion. As he walked along the corridor, he spotted various paintings from different eras and artistic directions on the walls - probably pieces of the supposedly impressive collection of artifacts and works of art that the Count kept in his mansion. Whether this collection, which was often talked about in certain Sigilian circles, was actually that extensive - or even existed - was something Naghûl would probably find out soon. The corridor ended at another door after a few paces, but continued to the right and left. The tiefling stopped and listened. It was as silent as a grave in the large estate and there was a slight smell of dust, old parchment, candle wax and sandalwood. Since no one was in sight and he had no idea in which direction to turn, he cautiously opened the next door. Behind it was a large parlor, also paneled in wood and with a gallery that ran around the entire room well above face level. In one corner stood a large grand piano, open and with a few sheets of music on it. Not far from it was a bar stocked with numerous bottles. In the other corner was a seating area consisting of two sofas, several armchairs and a recamier. There, Naghûl spotted his host – or at least he thought him to be the Count. The man was about thirty years old – or had been at the time of his transformation – and had snow-white hair that fell down to his shoulders. Dressed in an elegant, dark suit with a frock coat and waistcoat, he sat in one of the armchairs and looked up from an old book that he had apparently been reading.

“Factotum Ka'Tesh, I have been expecting you.” He nodded at Naghûl, his voice deep and even.

A welcome as one would expect in a vampire mansion, the tiefling thought to himself. He took a deep breath, went over and bowed low. “Count Loranóv, the Lady's Grace. It is an extraordinary honor that you receive me, my lord.”

The vampire closed the book without a sound and put it on the table. “How could I refuse a conversation suggested by Lady Montgomery herself?” It was hard to see the color of his eyes in the dim light, but they seemed to have a golden-yellow shimmer. The Count studied Naghûl carefully and it was hard to fathom his emotions. Then he rose. The Sensate focused on behaving correctly according to Sigilian etiquette, but he was sure that Loranóv might notice his inner tension and nervousness. All the more so because he was a vampire ...

In fact, a brief smile flitted across Loranóv's lips as quickly as a shadow, before he pointed to the recamier. “Please, let us sit down.”

Naghûl nodded gratefully and took a seat, casting a quick and discreet glance around the room. Sculptures, paintings and artifacts were lined up and carefully presented, telling him that Loranóv's art collection was indeed no mere rumor. “I am no trained art expert,” he explained. ”But as far as my knowledge allows, I may express my compliments for your truly impressive collection. What I saw so far is truly overwhelming and certainly of inestimable value.”

The vampire let his gaze wander over to the exhibited pieces and nodded slowly. “I must admit that I have grown very fond of it over time. It took several centuries to collect all of those pieces, and many an adventure is associated with one or another of the artworks.”

Naghûl took the opportunity to scrutinize him briefly while he wasn't directly looking at him. The Count undoubtedly had the engaging and at the same time aloof charisma one would expect from a powerful undead aristocrat.

“I can well imagine,” he replied to Loranóv's comment. ”Surely you also know the reason for my visit, because after all, these works of art have to do with it.”

“Your charming factol had hinted at something like that.” The vampire nodded, but then interrupted himself. “But I forget my duties as a host. May I offer you something?”

“Thank you,” Naghûl replied. “I would certainly not be averse to a glass of wine.”

“I'd be glad to serve you one.” The Count stood up. ”I'm prepared for living guests.”

He went over to the bar near the grand piano, and the tiefling took the opportunity to let his gaze once more wander over Loranóv's collection of art objects. As he leaned against the armrest of the recamier, the vampire suddenly stood beside him again. He held two glasses filled with a red liquid. Naghûl winced, but tried not to show it. He wondered if the Count used these vampire powers to make his conversation partners nervous or simply out of long-standing habit. In any case, when Loranóv handed him one of the glasses, he accepted it with polite thanks. The color of both drinks was almost the same.

“Well,” the vampire said, sitting down in the armchair across from his guest. ”You were talking about my collection. Do you have a particular piece in mind?”

“No, not yet,” Naghûl replied. ”I am here to find out if you would support the upcoming exhibition and what we could offer you in return. From my personal point of view, every piece here would be worth exhibiting.”

Loranóv took a sip from his glass and leaned back, his elbow on the armrest. “Actually I wouldn't mind supporting such an exhibition, honorable Naghûl.”

The tiefling smiled. ”That is certainly a pleasure for my faction. I wonder, though, how we could accommodate you? Your pieces will surely be among the main attractions.”

The Count studied him closely, and although he did not appear suspicious, he simply had that aura of an ancient and powerful vampire, which was as fascinating as it was intimidating. One could not help but be on guard. “Your beautiful mistress never does anything without a specific purpose,” Loranóv stated. “So far, relations between your faction and House Loranóv have never been bad, but they have never been very close either. That's about to change, hm?”

“That is for my factol to decide,” Naghûl replied diplomatically. ”I don't mean to be presumptuous, my lord.”

The vampire smiled briefly, leaned forward and put down his glass. “Well, as I said, I'm not opposed to it, factotum,” he continued, as if Naghûl hadn't made the remark at all. “It might be a very interesting constellation.”

The Sensate felt a little caught, although he was sure he had mastered the art of conversation quite well so far. “I fully agree.” He took another sip from his glass. “A good wine,” he then remarked in an attempt to mellow the situation. “Fruity, soft in the finish. It seems to me that this vintage has been withheld from me so far.”

“What a shame, I'm glad to have changed that,” the Count replied, politely engaging in the conversation. “It's a rare vintage from the vineyards near Sylvania.”

Naghûl smiled and then gestured towards a sideboard near the fireplace. “Is that a dragon skull on the chiffonier?”

“Indeed.” Loranóv nodded, as casually as if he had an antler hanging there. “That of a ruby dragon, as can be seen from the gemstones still embedded in the bone structure. Perhaps we'll take a look at some of the pieces, then you can get an overview.”

“I'd love to,” the tiefling replied. ”But may I ask a question about this skull?”

The Count eyed him intently. “Of course.”

“It strikes me as being in stark contrast to the other objects here,” Naghûl stated. “It really stands out, although it is presented rather modestly and not in the center of the room, for example. Was this eye-catcher deliberately placed that way? I think that's very inventive and would love to know how you came up with the idea.” This was not a diplomatic ploy, but arose from Naghûl's honest interest.

The Count now also examined the skull more closely and seemed to be thinking. “You are right to assume that this was done deliberately. No piece in this room is arranged by chance. But unfortunately I can't tell you how I came up with the idea. It was several centuries ago, and from time to time something slips your mind.”

Naghûl nodded. Although he was over a hundred years old himself, he couldn't really imagine such a long lifespan. “I forget some things after just a few hours,” he remarked. “Of course, it depends on how important they are.”

“Yes, the main thing is to remember the significant moments,” the vampire said. “A few minutes can shape centuries.”

Naghûl had the strong impression that this was not just a casual remark, but that Loranóv was alluding to specific moments in his past. He seemed to be lost in thought for a moment, but then he rose and pointed to the object closest to them, an ochre-colored vase with intricate green ornaments. “This is a very old piece from the prime world of Toril,” he explained. ”The vase dates from the time when the yuan ti still had their high civilizations there. I believe there are only two or three of this type left in existence.”

Naghûl nodded in awe. “The yuan ti on Toril were capable of true masterpieces. I myself only know an old temple of theirs on a rather insignificant island in Faerûn. But even that one is impressive.”

“Yes, a remarkable people. A bit difficult to deal with at times.” Then the Count walked a few steps further and pointed at a pedestal on which lay a shimmering, white sphere, the size of a child's head. “This pearl was a gift from the Great Padisha of the Marid. Not the present one, but her great-great-grandmother. It comes from one of the silver oysters in the Citadel of Ten Thousand Pearls.”

Naghûl widened his eyes. If that was true and the vampire had had dealings with the great-great-grandmother of the Padisha of the Marid, then he must indeed be very old. “You must have done her a great favor or something similar,” he said.

“Rather something similar,” the Count replied with a smirk and then pointed to an hourglass that was arranged next to the huge pearl. It seemed to be made of dark metal and was decorated with draconic runes and small dragon figures. The sand inside was black with red inclusions and had run through about halfway. “That one is from the Mausoleum of Chronepsis,” Loranóv explained. “Seriously,” he added at Naghûl's incredulous look.

The tiefling tried not to eye the vampire openly doubting. Chronepsis was the dragon god of fate and death, who had his realm in the Outlands. There he watched over countless hourglasses, each of which represented a dragon's lifespan. Every dragon in the multiverse had an hourglass somewhere in Chronepsis' Mausoleum, slowly dropping its grains and counting down the life of that dragon. The thought that someone might have one of these hourglasses in their living room was both fascinating and disturbing. And yet, Naghûl had a feeling that Loranóv didn't need to make up something like this. “This hourglass ... must be part of a great adventure,” he said, without even trying to hide his amazement.

“Yes, quite so.” The vampire scrutinized the hourglass intently, and the tiefling couldn't say what was on his mind.

He had wanted to bite back the next question, but his innate curiosity drove him into posing it after all. “May I ask what dragon's lifetime the hourglass displays?”

Loranóv's gaze remained inscrutable. “Better not.”

Naghûl had expected the Count to avoid the question, so he just nodded silently. Meanwhile, the vampire went over to a small table with a chest decorated with carved foliage. He opened the casket, revealing a diadem of incredible beauty.

“A piece of jewelry of Morwel, the Queen of Stars“ he explained. “It's been a long time since she wore it ...”

“A true masterpiece,” Naghûl stated admiringly, but didn't ask any further questions this time.

“Indeed.” The Count closed the casket and pointed to the skull that had started the tour. “As I said, once a ruby dragon from the Plane of Minerals.”

Then he passed the fireplace and looked at a chessboard. It was placed on an ebony table between two armchairs, almost inconspicuous, easy to miss. When Naghûl followed the vampire's gaze, he realized that it was a planar chess variant with forty pieces, twenty black and twenty white. However, no piece was on the board twice. The tiefling could make out pieces he knew, such as a white king and a black queen, a white unicorn and a black knight – all pieces that were common and popular in various planar chess variants. But others, such as a black hare, a white antelope or a black scorpion, he had never seen before. Of course, that wasn't saying much - numerous variations of the game existed in the planes and he was not exactly an expert. But it did catch his attention.

Loranóv noticed how his guest was eyeing the game and stopped. “Have you ever wondered if Sigil were a chessboard, which piece you would be?”

“In a way, yes,” Naghûl admitted. ”But the game would never come off if I were the king, and I don't like to see myself as a pawn.”

The Count smiled at his joking tone, but kept his eyes on the board and said nothing.

“Forgive my foolish prattling, my lord.” The Sensate cleared his throat. “The pieces look interesting. Where do they come from?”

“From a small prime world,” the vampire explained. “Almost unknown.”

“Oh yes?” Naghûl leaned forward with interest, his gaze lingering on the piece of a black raven. “Would you tell me anyway? You know, we Sensates and our curiosity.”

Loranóv examined the board with a strange expression – wistfulness, worry, displeasure? – but then he waved it off. “Really, it's of no importance.”

Naghûl sensed with every fiber of his being that there was a very special story behind this chessboard, but he followed his host without saying or asking anything further.

The vampire now went over to a beautifully painted chest that showed humanoids with the heads of crocodiles, falcons and hippos. “This chest comes from Thoth's realm in the Outlands. It was once the personal property of Pharaoh Kherem II, the Lion of Thebestys.”

The tiefling examined the object and nodded appreciatively. “The craftsmanship of these cultures is unique.”

“Yes, and one of the few pantheons that even lets undead walk on the Upper Planes.” A brief smile flitted across the vampire's features. “Quite appealing.”

Naghûl had to smirk. ”Yes, quite a rarity.”

The Count then pointed to a vase that seemed to be made of pure alabaster. “This one comes from the realm of Marduk on Arcadia. It once contained the soul of a planetar whose body was destroyed. The soul was stored in this vessel to preserve it until a new body was found.”

“And was a body found?” Naghûl asked eagerly.

“As far as I know, yes,” the Count replied. Then he pointed to a globe standing on a table next to the vase. ”It shows a prime world. It used to be whole, but then it broke into five shards. The name of the world is Alara, and its history is an interesting and unique one.”

Naghûl had never heard of this world, but there were countless little-known planets out there in the vastness of the Phlogiston. He tried to memorize the name, while he followed the Count to another small pedestal. Under a glass bell jar stood a delicate, white flower with purple spots, in a pot that seemed too small to contain it permanently. The arcane energy emanating from the glass bell made Naghûl assume that the flower was preserved by magic.

“A moon flower,” the vampire explained. ”It only blooms in the moonlight and exudes a gentle scent reminiscent of a moonlit night after a rain shower. These flowers have magical properties and are said to be a gift from the goddess Eilistraee to the dark elves.”

In this corner of the parlor, the flower was the last piece on display and the Count now returned to the seating area. “Interesting times in Sigil at the moment, aren't they?” he remarked casually as he sat down again.

“In my experience, there never was an uninteresting one,” the tiefling replied with a smile. “But you certainly have a considerable advantage over me.”

“Probably, yes.” The vampire lowered his voice a little and his eyes were that of a hunter in wait. ”And your faction seems to be forging new and interesting alliances.”

“Relatively speaking, Lady Erin has not been factol for very long,” Naghûl replied evasively. “I don't think there's been a year when she hasn't been involved in interesting politics.”

“These days, she is seen talking to Factol Sarin more often than before,” Loranóv continued undeterred. ”Of course, the same applies to Factol Terrance, which is just as interesting.”

The Sensate took a deep breath. It was apparently true what was said about the Count, namely that he was very attentive and well informed about the political developments in Sigil. However, this was not a topic that he was authorized to talk about. Now it was important to be clever and evasive enough not to give anything away, but polite and specific enough not to spoil the positive course of the conversation so far. So he nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, a surprising constellation, considering the religious differences. One might think that they would rather avoid each other.”

The vampire leaned back and eyed Naghûl. Behind his cultivated facade, the tiefling now sensed the predatory presence of a creature of the night more clearly than before. Loranóv reached for the glass he had put down on the table and took a sip. “One could almost think that several alliances are forming in Sigil at the moment, that some factions are moving closer together and others are perhaps distancing themselves from each other. Some might wonder if this could be a cause for concern.”

“I believe it is rather a constant change,” Naghûl toned down. He paused for a moment before cautiously adding: ”I mean, my lord, you should know this better than most, if the rumors are true.”

“If you are implying that I have been living in Sigil for a long time ... Yes, that is true.” The vampire let his gaze wander around the room, almost pensively. ”And that is precisely why I know how important it is to have my finger on the pulse of events, to be able to look behind the scenes ... But right now, developments are taking place that elude my insight and I don't like that. On the other hand, one may hear certain things, rumored stories behind closed doors, but I am convinced that there is a grain of truth in them. And it is part of my nature that I wish to uncover such dark.”

The fact that Loranóv addressed the current developments so directly astonished Naghûl and he decided to admit it. The man seemed to know more than they had thought, and continuing to act unwitting could sabotage his mission here. “I must admit that your frankness has taken me by surprise,” the Sensate explained. “I don't know all the mechanisms, but I do know that you shall not be left out. You mentioned that you would be interested in closer cooperation with my faction?”

Now the Count smiled again, quite engagingly. “Your factol is a true master of the kriegstanz, and I have some experience with it, too. But I openly admit that I shy away from a dance with your mistress, because I wouldn't know who would lead. I would rather sit at her side, that would seem wiser to me.” He rose. “Tell Lady Erin that House Loranóv has understood her offer and is interested.”

Naghûl also stood up and bowed low. ”Count Loranóv, my lord, I will do that with joy.”

The vampire nodded gently. “Present my most respectful compliments to your mistress and tell her that it will be as beneficial for me, as it will be for you, if the Society of Sensation and House Loranóv walk part of the path together in the future.”

“I will,” Naghûl promised. “And rest assured that Factol Erin will appreciate this as well.”

“Then I am certain we will see each other again soon.” Loranóv put down his glass, again without a sound. ”You will find your way out?”

Naghûl nodded, bowed in farewell and then went to the door of the parlor. When he looked back, the vampire was nowhere to be seen. Although he was not surprised by the undead Golden Lord's behavior, it still made his flesh crawl. He quickly left the parlor, hurried through the hallway to the front door and left the mansion. It was only when he had stepped through the wrought-iron gate of the front garden and was once again surrounded by the normal sounds and smells of the Noble District that he paused. He glanced back at the gloomy estate, which looked like a crow among harmless, unsuspecting doves among the other villas here. He almost felt as if the many windows were watching him as he slowly walked away. When he got back into the cab that had been waiting for him, he allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. He had never met the Count before, only seen him from a distance in the Festhall from time to time. He was exactly as he had imagined him to be, mysterious, dark, above it all and of course a little eerie – as one would expect of an old vampire. And yet there had been something else that Naghûl could not quite grasp. A secret hidden even deeper, another dark veil that he had not been able to see through. But he had sensed that Loranóv knew far more than they had realized and that there was something about him that went far beyond the history and politics of the High Houses of Sigil. On the one hand, it was a wonderful experience. On the other hand, the conversation had gone well, even better than he had hoped. Lady Erin would be delighted to hear that an alliance with House Loranóv was within reach.

 

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played December 28, 2012