She had far too much self-control to betray what she was thinking, but I was sure she was weighing a whole lot of things mentally. Three thousand years of living in a place chock full of demons, drow, and fey... those things could not be pleasant. Everything in her experience would be saying that she should take the deal and just run, run back out to reality.

However, she was a prisoner of her own Stat line. She had genius-level intelligence, and had a minimum 22 Wisdom to sustain being a Twelve priestess... but a lilithi’s racial bonus to Charisma was +20. If she started with the Elite Array and base 15 to Charisma, add in +2 from Masteries, +6 from taking Sorceress and Bard to Twelve, and +1 at Ten, then right now, without using any magical enhancements, she was sitting on a 42 Charisma.

Charismatic people are not necessarily pragmatic. What they are is stubborn, unyielding, overpoweringly influential, and persuasive. They don’t give up and they don’t change their minds, they suborn their genius and wisdom to making their resolutions work. It’s why they can be such awesome leaders, because they simply don’t care if there is a better or easier way to do something.

And right now, what she wanted was revenge. Enough that for the chance at it, instead of simply walking away, she was trying to find a way to get back at the things that had trapped her here for millennia... and talk with someone powerful enough to butcher the lordling she’d been held in bondage to for decades.

“You can read my Aura, but I cannot read yours.” Said with just the slightest hint of petulance.

“You aren’t strong enough to read my Aura. However, Sir Errant there is a Heavenbound, in case you don’t know what those silver eyes of his mean.” Said person flashed her a meaningful look before turning away.

It was plain she did. “Heavenbound,” she repeated, slanted eyes narrowed and intrigued. “There are no Heavenbound Warlocks in these lands...”

“I imagine there are very few Warlocks, period, as the Hags wouldn’t want outside interference in whatever is going on here. Oh, by the way, anything on the inside that we should be looking for to take away? Keep in mind we are moving quickly.”

“Ah, proper plunder.” Given more time to think, she issued directions concisely and thoroughly, obviously taking great pleasure in bringing down everything about this place and its lord. There was some fighting inside, but Prince Estemar sussed out pretty much all the skulkers at a distance, Briggs at close range, and intermittent bursts of extreme violence later, what magic, materials, and power comps could be retrieved were on the way out.

Lord Geunheff had been bled dry and relieved of his head, as had his Hunt, and were summarily put to the vivic torch. The succubus watched this with complete apathy.

“What use are you making of the blood and heads?” she asked neutrally.

“The blood of powerful Fey is a universal component in illusion and charm-related scroll inks. The heads are bound for Baneskulls, they self-Invest if carved properly. The Lord and his Hunt should be able to make a Greater Baneskull.”

“Pragmatic.”

“We need all the advantages we can get,” I replied calmly. “Surely you don’t think it was luck that I could wipe a Fey Lord that powerful?” I followed her gaze to his Sword, sitting on a Disk nearby. “Was he an exile? His Sword was not as powerful as I was expecting.” I’d been expecting it to be base +VI, Epic, which would have been too, too sweet. A million gold in value was a lot of wealth. Alas, it had only been +V. Although the soul-trapping diamonds were pretty nice, too.

“His power faded after being caught in the area of the Obelisk, and being unable to bring it down. The Fey are powers of Chaos, and being so limited was also demeaning to them. With proof of his impotency before him every day, how could he claim to be so mighty?”

“Especially if subtly mocked for his uselessness.” Only the slightest shadow of a smile at the edge of her exquisite lips. A long-term campaign whittling down his self-confidence, the very essence of a Fey, tropes that they were.

“Five minutes!” I called out, as updates rang through Marktell. Those on guard outside started to form up as portable wealth started to emerge from the manor... while the deeper places were naturally set on fire. “You need to make your decision soon enough. Which way to the Obelisk?”

She pointed. “Ten miles in that direction, just out of sight. He wanted it near, but he didn’t want to be able to see it and be reminded of his fate.”

“Good enough.” I wasn’t worried about her. A Twelve Caster Risen Succubus would have absolutely no problems taking care of herself anywhere. She could charm a fey lord even while despising him. Her Diplomacy modifier had to be in the +60 range, minimum. Amber should take lessons from her, and probably wanted to.

“Do you wish to know what guards it?” she asked.

“Pseudonatural somethings. My guess would be grimm, svartalfar, or spriggans, maybe with treestalkers and quickwoods or shambling mounds.” She looked at me oddly. “What?”

“Yes, a grimm from lands beyond Dream, and his cohort of spriggans. The fringe is occupied by stalkers and several animate plants.” It was like I had taken away some fun from her.

“I haven’t killed a grimm in months. I’m looking forwards to it.” She gave me another look, as if I weren’t quite sane, but I ignored it.

“I will think on this, and meet you there.” I waved her off, and she walked off, a lot of eyes really trying not to watch her heading out the gate, and utterly failing. Midnight and silver, and I still hadn’t asked her name. I smiled to myself and got back to business.

------

...“And were gutted, shattered, jaws split wide,

Fed to the Land, and cast aside.

Every day, a grimm to slay,

Until they dared not come to play.

TREMBLE, SHE COMES!”

The tentacled hentai nightmare yowled weirdly enough to make reality convulse, and I took its goo-and-gore head, that it might join its tentacles and claws in limply writhing around. Vivic flames poured into the pustulant, impossible anatomy of its unreal body, and reality began to feast.

Elder Arg and the Monkey Boys began the act of bringing down the Obelisk as the others cleared up the rest of the area. The acreage in the area was all burning nicely, fire Elementals coming out to play, and the animated trees and sentient plants hadn’t much liked them. Alas, alas...

She glided in on silver-edged jet wings, dressed in a somewhat more practical black outfit, complete with rocking thigh-highs, her tails rising up behind her like a serpentine train around her folded wings, ready to strike. Everybody sort of looked at her, and kept on with what they were doing, trying really, really hard not to drool.

I kicked this thing that really didn’t look like a grimm, then booted the head towards Briggs, who caught it without looking and dropped it on Haul. Not much loot for this place, but we’d have work for our next down time, soon. Fey Legend Baneskull, was looking forwards to it. I didn’t pay much attention to her as she leaned forwards and whispered into my ear.

I turned to glance at her. She watched my hair go into the tight space of my Masspack and pull out a dark box. “Right shoulder. You can move it later if you wish.” She made a shrug that sent a few too-wary hearts racing, and I rolled my eyes. She glanced in the direction of the roll, and smiled splendidly. The guilty parties almost fell over. “I’d say ‘be nice’, but you are.” She smiled even more widely, and I just pulled out the needles and got to work, glancing at the sky.

---

It didn’t take much to do, and I definitely had the Karma for the initial empowerment. She looked at it with great interest as the scars melded back into smooth skin, making it like a Tat, blended in and not marring her perfect complexion.

The white lit up, and those cool white eyes widened despite herself as the Door sprang up, and she saw The Map.

I could feel the fire of her emotions right through the Door, that howling desire to be free, to see, to escape. The whole world was before her... no, merely a fraction of the world, see all the empty spaces, waiting for someone like her to fill them in. All the wonders and places, so far beyond this eternal benighted realm...

She was literally burning mentally with the need to get out of this place, and yet looked perfectly in control. A normal person would be half-mad with their desires, but it was just part of who she was.

Yeah, I’d never run into a Charisma score that high, that was sure. On the other hand, she lifted her eyes from the Map and looked through that door, and checked herself.

I couldn’t match her fire, but I had depth and clarity that she didn’t.

There was a hiss as the Mark materialized on her mental shoulder, pumped with a day of Karma, and giving her a further +1 to Charisma.

I held out my mental hand, and, intrigued, she stepped through the Door and looked around inside my head.

Thousands of people looked back at her, glowing with Marks of their own. There were some impressive characters among them, the spiritual equals of any fey or demon she knew of.

“It is time to Salute the Silver Queen,” I /told her, as Hazé, replete in the spiritual regalia of a Starsister, appeared behind me.

“I understand you have been denied contact with your elder sister,” Hazé /said to the burning succubus, reaching out to take her hand. Like me, she didn’t have the same fire, but she was far deeper in the other mental areas. “Join us, and see the stars denied you.”

People surged in closer, eyes opened, and above us, the view from a thousand different eyes opened up and filled in the vault of heaven.

Her eyes flared, power rolled about her, stars in the mindscape materializing around her.

The Salute began, thrumming, building up with emotions, a heady stream of respect, admiration, faith, belief, even love, all blatantly apparent in the mindscape. It was free of lust for power, of demand for attention, of bargains and sly dealings with things best left unmentioned, of pleas for power despite the cost that would be paid.

This was a Song of how Things Should Be. Of generosity returned in equal measure, not in mockery and repeated attempts to take advantage; of trust and belief, not greed, treachery, and betrayal; of mercy and grace, that was not repaid with resentment, disdain, and later vengeance; of admiration that was not based on lust and possessiveness.

This was not the exception; this was the way Things Should Be!

True Midnight rose across the lands, and the voices of tens of thousands resounded in the Markspace, reaching up to Salute the Silver Queen, the Goddess of the Moon and Stars, of safe travels, and of Silver Magic.

A great eye open in the Markspace, carried down that stream of faith, a confluence of stars, but there was no doubt whatsoever that the Goddess was there, listening, watching... and had found something of great interest there.

And She winked, and was gone.

The Markspace emptied smoothly, serenely, every person back behind their own unique Door, back to their own minds and things to do.

The newly Marked looked at Hazé and I, my little sisters there, and the circle of the Void Brothers, Errant and his Heavenbound, great Paladins, Clerics, dwarven and elven kings, all gathered to greet the great burning spirit before them.

Whose eyes were now full of Stars.

-You may call me Wayfair!- she /smiled in greeting to them all, her /voice like the moon soaring towards a new horizon.

+++++++++++

Author’s Note: Coming up with her name was the best part of writing this chapter. It hit both the idea of her being a traveler (a wayfarer) and her being Way Too Fair perfectly.