Aoth rattled off an incantation. Bareris floated up out of the water. Brightwing flew past him as slowly as she could, and Aoth snatched hold of him and hauled him onto the griffon's back.

Bareris's ordeal had dissolved his armor and clothing and bleached his skin and hair chalk white. It had also stopped him breathing and stilled his heart.

All his friends could do was carry him back to the roundship and then make ready to give him to the sea all over again, this time with the proper observances and prayers. Aoth couldn't find a priest of Milil, god of song, so one of the Burning Braziers agreed to officiate.

They packed a dingy with inflammables to make a floating pyre, then laid Bareris inside it. They were just about to light it and set it adrift when the bard opened eyes turned black as midnight.

epilogue

18-19 Marpenoth, the Year of Blue Fire

Aoth swallowed a first mouthful of sweet red Sembian wine, sighed, and closed his eyes in appreciation. As far as he was concerned, Escalant wasn't much of a city compared to Bezantur, Eltabbar, or even Pyarados, especially now that it was overrun with refugees. But it had taverns and strong drink, and after a day of trying to help the town accommodate the needs of all the newcomers without exploding into riots, and striving to shore up the port's defenses in case Szass Tam showed up to attack it, those were the amenities he craved.

The common room suddenly fell silent. Aoth opened his eyes. Bareris and Mirror, the latter currently too vague a shadow to resemble anyone in particular, were standing in the doorway, and everyone else was edging away from them.

Aoth didn't share the crowd's instinctive antipathy for walking corpses and ghosts, but he couldn't help wishing that his friends hadn't come looking for him just then. He'd hoped for some time alone to relax. Still, a decent fellow didn't duck his comrades, so he called out to them, rose, grabbed the bottle, and led them outside. Better that than to shroud the whole tavern in gloom and apprehension.

The Wizard's Reach hadn't suffered the filthy weather Szass Tam had inflicted on Thay proper. That was one nice thing about the place. Still, the air was chilly. Autumn had started in earnest. Aoth touched a fingertip to one of his tattoos, and warmth flowed through his limbs.

He and his companions strolled in silence for a time. Other pedestrians gawked but kept their distance. Aoth swigged from the bottle, then offered it to Bareris, who declined it. Maybe he wasn't capable of enjoying wine anymore.

"I owe you an apology," Bareris said at last.

Aoth cocked his head. "You do?"

"You warned me that I was too puny a creature to fancy myself Szass Tam's special enemy, but I resisted the notion. I kept on, even after Mystra died and the blue fires and earthquakes started scourging the world and making our entire war look petty by comparison. That would have convinced any sensible person of his own insignificance, but not me. You were right, and I was wrong."

Aoth grunted. "I never meant to imply that you're anything less than a worthy, capable man." He hesitated. "Or maybe I did. I was angry. But the truth is, you're a good soldier and a good friend, and maybe people like you and me make more of a difference than I thought. We stopped the dream vestige and saved the fleet."

Bareris shook his head. "I failed every time it truly mattered."

"I understand why you think that, but I disagree."

"When she came back to me, she said she hadn't really returned. That the girl I loved was long dead. But it wasn't so. Every night, the old Tammith grew a little stronger, and the vampire, weaker. I could see it even if she was afraid to believe it. But now…"

Aoth didn't know what else to say.

After three more paces, Bareris said, "I'm leaving Escalant."

"Don't. Now that the zulkirs are here, the place will become more and more like the real Thay, which means that folk will get used to the undead. You'll be better off here than you would be anywhere else."

"I'm going back to the real Thay."

"Damn it, why? To hunt down Tsagoth and hope that somehow, one day, you might be able to inconvenience Szass Tam himself in some minor fashion? To devote another ten years to revenge? I thought you just told me you'd realized you were wasting your life."

Bareris smiled a smile that sent a chill oozing up Aoth's spine. "But since the touch of the dream vestige changed me, I no longer have life to waste."

Aoth took a deep breath. He felt like a traitor, but he had to speak his heart. "If you go, I'm not coming with you. It's been ten years for me, too, ten years of risking my life, and while we may have done some notable deeds, I'll be honest with you. Here at the end, I'm not really sure there was a point. All I know is that the fight took my youth, and I don't want it to steal the rest of my days as well. If Szass Tam leaves me alone, I'll leave him alone."

"But I'll accompany you," said Mirror.

"Thank you," Bareris replied, "but I can't ask that. You followed me out of the mountains in the hope that contact with living people would heal your mind. It hasn't, entirely, but it's helped, and if you go back to Thay, you won't have that anymore. We'll have to hide in the shadows and the wilderness, and I'm afraid that everything you've regained will slip away from you."

"Then you'll just have to talk to me and give me things to think about," Mirror said, "because I refuse to let you go alone."

When Malark entered Szass Tam's apartments, the lich was frowning at his reflection in a full-length mirror enclosed in a golden frame. From high collar to dragging train, sparkling gems encrusted his robe so thickly that it was hard to discern the crimson velvet beneath.

Malark realized it must be a coronation robe. The lich had proclaimed himself regent long ago, but now that he'd driven his rivals into exile, a second ceremony was in order.

As Malark bowed, Szass Tam asked, "What do you think?"

"Samas Kul himself would envy it."

"Voices of the Abyss, as hideous as that? I'll ask the tailors to attempt something a trifle less gaudy."

Malark proffered a sheaf of papers. "I don't promise this is a comprehensive inventory of every seaworthy vessel and able-bodied mariner on the coast. But it's close."

Szass Tam accepted the parchments and set them on a chair. "Thank you. It's important information, and we'll put it to good use. But I've decided that I'm not going to try to take the Alaor or the Wizard's Reach. Why should I, when I already have all the territory I need?"

"To keep the other zulkirs from starting a new war?"

"Upon further consideration, I've concluded that's unlikely. Their remaining dominions lack the resources, and when we construct our own fleet and build up our coastal defenses, they'll recognize that their prospects have become even more hopeless."

"I still think you'd be safer to kill them."

"Theoretically speaking, you might be right, but after ten long years of playing chess with them, I begrudge them any more of my time. My instincts tell me the blue fires and earth tremors will subside by the end of the year, and then my real work can begin. Speaking of which, I thought you might appreciate a look at this." Malark somehow missed the instant it appeared, but the lich held a thick, musty-smelling book bound in flaking black leather.

Malark swallowed. "Is that really it?"

Szass Tam smiled. "Yes. The boldest, most brilliant arcane treatise ever written, penned by an unknown genius at the dawn of time and unearthed by Fastrin the Delver when Netheril was young."