Belric took a deep breath, downed a hearty swig of beer, and walked over to the table where All Things Come in Threes was seated.
"Hey, mind if I sit here?"
"You may. You may not. You absolutely may," said All Things Come in Threes with a grin.
Belric blinked, unsure what to make of that. He decided not to dwell on it and simply sat down. "Nice to meet you. I'm Belric."
"Hi, Belric. I'm All Things Come in Threes. I've got a big nose, haven't I?" He raised a finger to his lips. "Shh. Not yet. Let's watch the table next to us."
Belric followed his gaze. A Dawn Angel and a devil were locked in a heated debate over drinks.
"An angel and a devil sharing a table—now that's rare. Only in Sigil. You won't see that anywhere else in the multiverse. Remarkable, isn't it? Praise the Lady. Now then, young devil—or demon, whichever—what brings you to me?"
"I've got a question. Someone said you might have the answer," Belric said earnestly.
"Of course. But you should know—if you want something from All Things Come in Threes, you'll need to offer something in return. I don't ask for rare treasures. Just three small, connected trinkets. I collect them."
Odd request. But Belric had no choice. He thought for a moment, then pulled three coins from his pocket and placed them on the table: one gold, one silver, one copper. Fresh from the Prime Material Plane, still gleaming and pristine.
Here, though, they had different names.
"One Doomcoin, one Stingfang, one Greenhorn. That last one hasn't turned green yet, but it will," said All Things Come in Threes, picking up the coins and letting them dance across his fingers. They seemed to come alive in his hands.
"Three coins. Interacting, unrelated, and utterly distinct. Lovely little things. You know what you gave me—but do you know why we call gold 'Doomcoin' and copper 'Greenhorn'?"
"I thought I was the one asking questions. Why not ask about the silver?"
"Ask a devil why silver stings? Haven't you felt it bite when you hold it?"
Belric recalled the moment he'd picked up the silver coin. He shook his head.
"Then you're a dull-sensed devil. Want me to explain the coins?"
"Please. I'm listening."
"Gold—source of disaster. Some say it's the root of all evil. Most folks like that idea, so gold became Doomcoin. Fun, right? As for Greenhorn, it's because devils and demons sweat—or ooze—something that turns copper green. Doomcoin, Stingfang, Greenhorn. Gold, silver, copper. You, me, and whoever sent you to find me. Three, three, always three. Don't you see? The truth of the universe. My name. All Things Come in Threes."
"I think you're onto something. May I ask my question now?"
"Speak. Be silent. Do as you please."
Belric paused, then ignored the contradiction. "Which gate will safely take me back to the Prime Plane?"
All Things Come in Threes grinned, revealing a mouthful of crooked yellow teeth. "Don't know. Maybe I do."
Belric chose to hear only the last part. "Great. Then please, tell me how to get back."
"I will. For those three shiny little gifts, I'll give you the answer. But first, something important. Listen closely. Very closely."
"I'm all ears," Belric said seriously.
"Did you see the Dawn Angel sitting beside us earlier?"
"She left with her devil friend. Odd taste in companions."
"You made a big mistake. Two, actually. No—three. First, that wasn't her friend. Those glowing birdfolk from the heavens never befriend evil. They're so pure, they'd hand a Greenhorn to a filthy, miserable beggar just to indulge their twisted sense of pity."
"That's disgusting," Belric agreed. "What's the second mistake?"
"Exactly. Disgusting. Second—he wasn't a demon. He was a bona fide devil. I could smell it. That stench of order, discipline, and self-righteousness. Ugh. Not you, of course. You're different. Still, you should've known better. We can tell our own kind."
Well, I was human until midnight. Now I've got a horn, wings that make succubi blush, and a tail. Also, my butt's perkier.
Belric didn't lie. He didn't like lying. So he told the truth—one version of it. "Some things changed recently. You know how fast the world turns. What's my third mistake?"
"There's always a third. Because all things come in threes. Your third mistake—you ignored them. That angel was Streisand, the Shining Dawn, top lieutenant of Archon Aldenais. And that devil? That was Glint the Seven-Tongued, right hand of Zapan, one of the Eight Infernal Generals. Think about it. Those two, meeting here, now, in a dingy tavern? Word is the Celestial Vanguard plans to storm the fortress of Malsham in the deepest layer of Nessus."
Belric stared at him. He was starting to get the picture. All Things Come in Threes was clearly a demon who fancied himself a devil. Why? Who knows.
In any case, he was hinting at something.
With a low, seductive voice, All Things Come in Threes continued, "Think about what they might be plotting. A grand betrayal? A conspiracy? Or maybe three of each?"
But Belric didn't care. He shrugged. "Maybe they're just saying, 'Nice rack,' or 'Great beer.' So that's the important thing you had to tell me?"
All Things Come in Threes gaped at him, yellow teeth on full display. This devil didn't even flinch at such a revelation. No ambition, no hunger for power. Was he an idiot?
After a long pause, he nodded. "Maybe. Maybe Glint just wanted to lick Streisand's chest with all seven tongues."
"Maybe. So… does any of this relate to my question?"
"What?"
"I mean, what you just told me—does it connect to the gate I need?"
All Things Come in Threes blinked. "No. Not at all."
"No connection? You rambled all that time and it's completely irrelevant?" Belric wanted to pour a barrel of acid down the old man's throat.
"Yes. No connection. I just felt like chatting. But now, let's talk relevance. I was going to give you three answers—one correct, one wrong, and one unknown. But we've had such a pleasant talk. I'll give you just one. The right one."
"Much appreciated. But first, let me buy you a drink."
"No. Don't."
"I insist. You've helped me a lot. I'd feel bad otherwise."
"Fine. But not one drink—three." He spread his hands. "As my name says. All things come in threes."
What's the fastest way for a demon to reach the Prime Plane from the Abyss?
Ideally, some fool accidentally summons her. But Susan wasn't as lucky as her master, Prince Bird. She needed a summoner who knew the ritual but not the risks—a rare breed of idiot. And that idiot had to summon her, not some other demon.
That kind of luck? Less likely than Bird growing a conscience and granting her freedom. So Susan never hoped for it. Bird was lucky. Unfortunately, he was also a moron. He got himself killed on the Prime Plane.
Now Susan had to obey his final command and reach the Prime. But Lady Luck never favored her. So she took the next best route.
She'd go through Sigil.
From the Abyss to Sigil. From Sigil to the Prime.
Sigil—the City of Doors. The multiverse's grand transit hub. If you want to go anywhere, start there.
In Bird's castle vault, there was a blue butterfly-shaped brooch. That brooch was the key to Sigil.
Susan now wore it on her chest. She knew the passphrase. She knew the door.
Behind the castle, near the lava lake, stood a small gate woven from vampire vines. Susan raised the brooch and declared, "This butterfly brooch is gorgeous!"
A portal shimmered open. She stepped through. It closed behind her.
Next moment, Susan appeared in a crumbling alley in Sigil's Lower Ward. As she walked, the flames in her hair dimmed. Goat horns sprouted from her head. Her face grew less sultry. Black fur crept over her hooves. Her wings shrank into her back, becoming dainty and cute. The brooch morphed into a blue ribbon tied to her wings.
She had transformed—from a succubus into a cambion.
Succubi and cambions look similar, but the gap in power and status is vast.
A succubus and a cambion may share seductive features, but their power and prestige are worlds apart. A cambion's ultimate ambition might be to fight and study her way into a blood cocoon, emerging as a full-fledged succubus of the Abyss—or, if her goals lie elsewhere, to ascend as an Erinyes of Hell.
Cambions are welcome in most corners of the multiverse. Mischievous and alluring, they cause minor chaos but offer pleasure in return. Their wild beauty makes the damage seem almost charming. Succubi, on the other hand, bring only terror. Their strength and influence are the stuff of nightmares.
Susan wandered to the entrance of a tavern. Not that she had many options—Sigil's Lower Ward was a ruin, and few dared open a bar in such a place. But she was here now, and she needed information. Sigil was the City of Doors, after all. Thousands of portals, some timed, some random. One might lead to a brothel with a fiery temptress waiting in bed. The next, to the Plane of Fire itself, where a blazing elemental elder might give you a hug you'll never forget.
So Susan had to be careful. She needed a gate to the Prime Plane—and more importantly, a safe exit. Preferably not one that dumped her into the Sanctum of Nine Saints.
She stepped inside the tavern and approached the bar. A two-headed demon was polishing glasses behind the counter.
One head noticed her. "Well hello, gorgeous. What can I do for you?"
"Are you the owner?"
"Absolutely!" both heads replied in unison.
"I'd like to work here. As a server," Susan said, addressing both heads.
"Of course! A beauty like you would be perfect for—" One head began, but the other cut him off. "No. We can't hire anyone. We already have a server. Brother, you're letting her looks cloud your judgment. She's stunning, yes, but we must be fair. Thankfully, we've got two heads. One to drool, one to think. Miss, I'm sorry. We already have someone, and he's doing a fine job."
"Oh, really? That's a shame." Susan leaned forward, resting her elbows on the bar, letting her ample chest press into view.
Four eyes locked onto one spot.
"Please," she said, gently swaying her shoulders. Her breasts followed suit. "I'm out of work. I can't afford food. I don't even have a place to sleep."
The brother who'd objected earlier hesitated. "Brother, maybe our current server isn't that great. And look at her—so pitiful. No place to sleep! That's tragic."
The other swallowed hard, eyes glazed. "But our server is kind, diligent, friendly with the patrons, and plays the lute."
"Yes, yes, but he doesn't have… these." The demon gestured in front of Susan's chest. "Oh, they're magnificent. May I touch them? Brother, you don't mind, do you?"
They shared one body. One pair of hands. The brother didn't object. He just smiled.