"If I'd never left Bezantur-"

"And if I'd figured out the torches were dangerous a few breaths sooner, Chathi might still be alive. Whenever things go wrong, you can always find an if, but what's the point of brooding over it? You're only torturing yourself."

Bareris stood up and reached for his sword belt, which hung on a peg on the wall with Aoth's lance leaning beside it. "I'm going for a walk."

"My friend, if I've said anything to offend you, I'm sorry."

Bareris shook his head. "It isn't that. It's just…" He slid the newly sharpened knife into its sheath then buckled on his weapons. "I just need to be alone."

Malark was as tired as he could recall ever being, even during the first months of his monastic training, and accordingly eager to reach his destination. Even so, he brought his flying horse down to the trail for the final leg of the journey up the valley. If the undead were still in possession of the Keep of Thazar, he'd be at least slightly less conspicuous approaching at ground level, and if the legionnaires had succeeded in retaking the place, he didn't want them mistaking him for a wraith. By now, they were likely wary of most anything that flew.

His steed snorted, expressing its displeasure at descending. When first created, it hadn't displayed emotion, nor had its black coat felt so much like actual horsehair. Malark wondered if, over time, simply by virtue of being perceived and employed, an illusory creature could become more real.

The question intrigued him, but now was not the time to ponder it. He'd do better to focus his attention on his surroundings, lest some skeleton or dread warrior notice him before he spotted it.

He crested a rise and the castle came into view, with a portion of the curtain wall demolished and an army, or the overflow of one, camped around it. He smiled, for the force was plainly composed of living men and orcs. Minute with distance though they were, he could see them moving freely about in the sunlight, and downwind, he could smell their cook fires and latrines. In addition to which, the banners of Thay, Pyarados, and Thazalhar flew from spires inside the fortress.

He cantered on into the encampment, where, it seemed to him, a general air of lethargic exhaustion prevailed. Still, it wasn't long before someone realized he was a stranger and came to ask his business.

"I'm an emissary from Tharchion Flass," he answered, "and I need to see Nymia Focar and Milsantos Daramos immediately."

Nymia had heard reports of Dmitra Flass's outlander lieutenant but had never met him before, so she studied him curiously. Despite what had evidently been a wearisome journey, he kneeled without any show of stiffness or soreness, and the regard of his striking green eyes bespoke intellect and self-possession. Her initial impression was that he appeared as competent as his reputation indicated.

"Rise," said Milsantos, "and tell us your business." He and Nymia had taken a room near the top of the central keep to serve as their command center, and weather permitting, threw open the casements to admit fresh air and illumination. This afternoon the old man sat in a chair near one of the west windows, and the golden sigils on his breastplate-Nymia wondered fleetingly if, when on campaign, he ever dispensed entirely with the weight, heat, and general discomfort of plate armor-gleamed in a shaft of sunlight.

"Thank you," said Malark. "I understand you've been busy retaking the valley and castle. May I ask how much you know about what's been happening elsewhere in Thay?"

"Szass Tam," said Milsantos, "asked his fellow zulkirs to make him regent, but they declined."

Malark smiled. "I'm glad to find you so well informed. It will save us at least a little time, and we don't have much to spare, but I imagine there are facts you haven't had the opportunity to learn. Szass Tam manipulated recent events to increase the likelihood of the other zulkirs acceding to his request. Among other machinations, he murdered Druxus Rhym and Aznar Thrul, tampered with the transmuters' election, betrayed a Thayan army to the Rashemi, and fomented riots in the major cities. All deeds that furthered his plan in one way or another."

No, Nymia thought, I don't want to hear this. She and Milsantos had defeated the undead marauders Szass Tam's followers had created as the lich himself had charged her to do, even though it meant taking necromancers captive and destroying their dread-warrior servants. But in the aftermath, everything had seemed to be all right. Though Szass Tam almost certainly knew what the armies of Pyarados and Thazalhar had accomplished, he hadn't come rushing to exact retribution. She'd dared to hope she might actually emerge from this mad, paradoxical situation unscathed.

Yet here was the small man with the spot on his chin telling her secrets she was better off not knowing and almost certainly with the intent of enmeshing her in new dangers and ambiguities. She could have joyfully bashed in his skull with her mace and chucked the corpse out one of the casements.

Frowning, Milsantos fingered a rune on his armor. "We didn't know all that, but it doesn't surprise me, because we have discovered that Red Wizards of Necromancy created and directed the raiders we've been fighting."

Nymia wanted to bash him too. Why did you tell him that? she thought. It's bad enough that we know, worse to prattle about it to one of Dmitra's agents.

"That makes sense," said Malark. "Initially, it gave him another opportunity to play the savior, and after his fellow zulkirs rejected his proposal, it likewise served the next phase of his scheme."

"You speak," said Milsantos, "as if you know what that is."

"I do," said Malark. "After the vote, when it became clear Szass Tam was still playing his games, Tharchion Flass gave me the task of figuring out what his new purpose is. In time, it occurred to me that in the wake of their botched invasion of Rashemen, he likely commands the complete loyalty of Tharchions Kren and Odesseiron, and that reflection led to a rather alarming supposition. Employing an unnaturally swift steed, I rode far to learn if it could possibly be true. It is. I discovered the legions of Gauros and Surthay, newly augmented by a massive infusion of undead warriors, marching south."

"You're telling us," Milsantos said, "that since his fellow zulkirs refused to vote Szass Tam a throne, he means to seize it by force of arms."

"Yes, and now your army, which includes the Burning Braziers, is on the wrong side of the realm to oppose him."

Milsantos rose and gestured to a map of Thay spread on one of the trestles tables. "Show me the northerners' route."

Malark advanced to the table, and nerves taut as bowstrings, Nymia reluctantly stood and approached for a better look as well.

Using his fingertip, the outlander traced a path along the vellum chart. "As best I can reconstruct it, they swung west through the sparsely inhabited part of Eltabbar and have now headed south into Lapendrar."

Milsantos nodded. "In their place, I'd do the same. Pyras Autorian is loyal to Szass Tam, but it would still be arduous to drag an army up the Second Escarpment, across the peaks of the Thaymount, then down the cliffs once more. You'd be seen, too, by someone hostile to your intentions. Too many Red Wizards have estates in the highlands, and on the south half of the plateau, the fiefs and towns are packed in too close for a host to sneak through."

"That's true," Nymia said, "but surely someone noticed them marching through Lapendrar. Hezass Nymar may not have a strong enough army to oppose them, but why didn't he warn the council of their coming? Why did one of Dmitra's agents have to venture forth and discover this for himself?"