"I can hazard a guess," said Malark. "Hezass Nymar dances to Szass Tam's piping as well, though maybe not to the point of lending his own relatively meager forces to the lich's scheme. That I simply couldn't tell, and Szass Tam may not want them anyway. Someone has to hold the Aglarondan border. But at least to the extent of granting free passage to Tharchions Odesseiron and Kren and keeping their progress a secret." He smiled. "The priest's probably glad he chose to govern from Escalant instead of residing in Lapendrar proper. If the necromancers fail, he can claim afterward that he didn't know what was going on."

Milsantos grunted. "If we're going to speculate, let's do it about something important. Where are Kren and Odesseiron headed? It can't be the capital, or they would have circled east instead of west. It has to be Bezantur. Take it and you pretty much control the whole south of the realm and all access to the sea. You've taken a giant step toward winning your war almost before it's begun."

"Tharchion Flass agrees with you," said Malark, "particularly since the city and all Priador are in a vulnerable condition. Their tharchion is dead and I'm informed that now the commander of his legion and city guard is too. Apparently the Shadowmasters assassinated him. Szass Tam must have hired them."

"What I want to know," Nymia said, "is why you, a servant of Dmitra Flass, have ridden all the way to the eastern edge of Thay to tell us these things. The last I heard, she too was Szass Tam's faithful follower."

"Until recently, yes. She's since decided the prudent course is to cast her lot with six zulkirs rather than one."

"Still," said Milsantos, "that doesn't quite explain what you're doing here."

"If Priador can't defend itself, someone else has to."

"Meaning us?" Nymia asked. "You said it yourself: We're on the wrong side of the country."

"But you're prepared to march and fight, seeing as how you've been doing it for tendays already. Your men know how to combat the undead. Your have the most formidable war priests in Thay at your disposal.

"In contrast, many another legion is still nestled in the garrison it's occupied more or less peacefully ever since the new trade policy began. After all Szass Tam has done to win their regard, many a soldier reveres or fears him and is reluctant to take up arms against him. Indeed, at this point, it's an open question just how many tharchions will stand with the council."

Milsantos snorted. "Your argument isn't as strong as you imagine. We fought hard to retake this fortress. We'd benefit greatly from a few more days of rest. On top of which, the fire priests are dead. The arms Szass Tam furnished turned against them."

Malark smiled in apparent admiration. "Thus depriving us of perhaps our most potent weapon against specters and the like."

"Still," the old man said, "it may be that you've come to the right people. Let's assume that in time the council can field a sufficient force to oppose the northerners. The immediate task, then, is to slow down the enemy advance and keep them from reaching Bezantur before that happens. Nymia, your griffon riders have the mobility and skills required."

"Damn it!" Nymia exploded, then caught herself. It was neither dignified nor prudent for two tharchions to argue in front of an inferior, particularly one who'd no doubt report the discussion word for word to one of their compatriots. "Messenger, wait outside."

"Of course." Malark bowed, withdrew, and closed the door behind him.

"I take it," Milsantos said, "that you don't care for my suggestion."

"How dare you assume," she gritted, "without a word of discussion between us, that I have any intention of fighting Szass Tam?"

"Ah," he said. "Perhaps that was presumptuous of me, and I apologize, but I think Dmitra Flass's notion is sound: Six zulkirs are stronger than one."

"Even when the one is Szass Tam?"

"Well, we can hope so."

"Even when we know for certain he already controls Gauros, Surthay, High Thay, and Lapendrar, and we don't know if any other tharchions except Dmitra-assuming we can even trust that duplicitous slut-mean to oppose him? What if we march against him, and it turns out we're the only ones?"

Milsantos smiled. "It will be inconvenient to say the least. Still, we'll have the other six zulkirs and the orders of wizardry they command."

"Until some of them deem it advantageous to switch sides. You know what they're like."

"Yes. I do. So what's your thought?"

"It's not as if the outlander brought us actual orders from the council. Despite the airs she puts on, Dmitra is our peer, not our superior."

"True. Apparently she begrudged the time it would have taken to palaver with the zulkirs."

"That means we aren't obligated to do anything. We can stay put here in the east and let everybody else slaughter one another in Priador."

Milsantos pulled a wry face. "It's tempting. You and I have survived a long while by keeping our noses out of the zulkirs' squabbles, but I fear it's not possible anymore. The old rivalries have flared into actual war, and if you don't choose a side, both will regard you as an enemy."

"Let's say you're right. In that case, I want to back the winning side. Just how certain are you it will be the council?"

"To be honest, not certain at all, but I'm willing to play my hunch. In addition to which, I've seen quite a bit of the undead of late, enough to sicken me. I don't want a lich as sole ruler of my homeland."

Nymia sighed. "Nor do I. He unleashed his pet horrors on my tharch, ordered me to dispose of them, then betrayed and crippled our army at the worst possible moment. At this point, I hate and mistrust him too much to support him."

"We're agreed, then."

"Yes, curse you. I can have the Griffon Legion in the air before dusk, but it's going to be a nightmare getting the rest of the army ready for a forced march. We'll be lucky if the wretches don't mutiny." A thought struck her. "We're still holding all those necromancers prisoner. If we try to take them with us, they'll slow us down, and if we leave them behind, lightly guarded, they're apt to escape despite their bonds and gags."

"Then we'll have to kill them."

She ran her hand over her scalp. "Just kill a band of Red Wizards."

Milsantos grinned. "Don't tell me you've never felt the urge."

Squinting, Aoth scrutinized the mountainsides, but it was Brightwing who spotted the would-be travelers and pointed them out to him. Sword swinging at his side, bow slung across his back, Bareris was climbing a narrow, rocky trail. Diminished by sunlight and the absence of combat to the merest suggestion of murk, Mirror flowed along behind him.

Brightwing furled her wings, swooped, and landed in front of them, effectively blocking the path, though that wasn't Aoth's precise intention. At Bareris's back on the valley floor, small as a dollhouse with distance, the Keep of Thazar and the surrounding encampment bustled with activity occasioned by the impending departure. The sight reminded Aoth of an anthill.

"I have men to oversee," he said, "and my own packing to attend to. I don't have time to chase you."

Bareris shrugged. "Then you shouldn't have."

"Should I let you throw your life away? As soon as I realized your belongings were gone, I guessed what you intended, and it's crazy. Even if you can find it again, you can't attack a necromancers' stronghold by yourself."

"I'm not by myself. Mirror decided to stick with me."

"It's still crazy."

"My quarrel is with Xingax and his confederates. If you legionnaires no longer mean to go after them, that's my bad luck, but it doesn't change what I need to do."