The Night Parade

Thirteen

Lord Sixx and his guest were seated at a table in the Gentleman's Hall. The oddities of his flesh were hidden from the casual observer by one of his many sets of eyes, which he used to influence the ma

The fat man with gnarled hands and blackened teeth shook like a dying mare with palsy. His fear was all-encompassing; he did not seem capable of lying. Nevertheless, Lord Sixx would have felt more comfortable if he could have entered the man's mind and learned his secrets directly. The best time to have attempted this would have been when the man was asleep and fully relaxed. Once inside his mind, Sixx could have manipulated the man's dreams and forced him to reveal any truth he desired to witness. The man would have awakened and thought nothing of the fact that he could not recall his dreams; such occurrences were common. He would not have known that his dreams had been stolen, that they now belonged to Lord Sixx. Sixx was a generous man, however, and he would have left nightmares for the man to feast upon in the years to come.

There was, in truth, an element of danger to this enterprise, which explained why he chose instead to accept the fat man's words. Once'he would not have hesitated to overpower a man's will and invade his conscious mind; he would have looked upon the exercise as an adventure into the unknown, a grand hunt wherein he was the predator stalking his prey through the landscape of their very thoughts. Ten years ago, he would have laughed at the risks involved, for if the prey turned on him and Sixx was killed on the psychic landscape, he would die in reality, too. Today, Lord Sixx, ruler of the night people, consummate master of nightmares and terror, had trouble sleeping.

He needed the belief of his people, the unvarying surrender of their wills to his own. Without belief he would survive, but he would not grow and prosper. Inevitably, a day would come when rivals would try to slay him, just as he had slain his predecessor.

Lately, a significant portion of his time had been spent listening to oily little men like this one, then spending valuable time ascertaining whether or not their claims of dissent within the ranks of the Night Parade were valid. If he found a potential rival, he eliminated the threat. His role as leader of the Night Parade had never been in question. Under his unyielding command, the Night Parade had prospered and become a unified force that existed to best serve the needs of all its people. Their profits were measured not only in human wealth, but also in the contentment of their burgeoning numbers, who were flocking to this place called Faerun at a growing rate.

There is one threat you seem content to ignore, a voice within his mind called out. Imperator Zeal. He has the love and the will of the people within his fiery grasp.

Zeal is not an ambitious man, Sixx countered.

That doesn't matter. His wife, the widow Tamara, hates you. You know why. When you fall-when you are pushed- Zeal will have no choice but to fill the vacancy you will leave.

Do not delude yourself. No one can be trusted. Even your own blood will one day turn on you.

Lord Sixx knew who owned that voice within his skull. The voice had belonged to his father, the man from whom Sixx stole the many eyes that covered his body.

"May I go now?" the man asked.

Lord Sixx was shocked back to reality. He sat at a table with the greasy little man, who seemed to want payment of some kind for his services. Distracted, Lord Sixx slipped a gold piece into the man's sweaty hand, then ordered him to leave at once. If he had been feeling more himself, he would have smiled terribly and told the man that his payment was his life, which Sixx was graciously allowing him to keep. He looked up and realized that the fat man had already gone. Of late, his entire existence seemed to be made up of missed opportunities. That would change, now that he had the information he so desperately required.

Sixx rose from the table, snaked through the crowded hall, and entered Pieracci

"Lord Sixx," Pieracci

"Summon the boy," Sixx commanded.

Pieracci

"The boy. Your servant. The one you call Alden McGregor. Summon him. I hunger for truth."

"Milord, you know what the boy is to me. You can't-"

"Summon him or I will cause you unimaginable pain." Sixx snarled.

Pieracci

Alden had been at the bar, trying to win the heart, or at least the body, or a fresh young serving maid. When he responded to Pieracci

Turning, Alden saw the tall man with many eyes. He felt as if he had been trapped in a sudden, unexpected downpour, with no place to go that would offer shelter from the storm. He could tell from the man's expression that Lord Sixx knew the truth. There was nothing he could say in his defense. With a speed that neither member of the Night Parade had anticipated, Alden leapt at Pieracci

The blade cut through the red curtains of Pieracci

"What do you plan to do with him?" Pieracci

"I wish to make him dream," Lord Sixx said as he unlaced the leathers at his neck and exposed the twin sets of jade green eyes, the Eyes of Domination. Lord Shoe touched Al-den's face and closed all but one of his many sets of eyes; that pair trained its wary gaze on the bald man.

Several minutes passed as Pieracci

"Then you have learned all you need to know," Pieracci

"I have," Lord Sixx said, ru

"What are you going to do with him now?"

Lord Sixx smiled enigmatically. "What I should have done a long time ago," he said as he once again reached down and touched Alden's face. Alden began to twist uncomfortably, mumbling words of denial and a final scream of agony before his body went limp and his breathing became shallow. "Have him cleaned and tended. I want him alive and healthy. If we are to recover the apparatus and punish the Slayer, this must be done."