Gaedynn smiled a crooked smile. “Fair enough. You have me there. Which doesn’t change the fact that Tchazzar is keeping secrets from us-and is crazy besides. He’s no more trustworthy than Nevron or Samas Kul.”

“He’s sick from his ordeal. You’ve never suffered anything similar, so you can’t understand.”

“You have no idea what I’ve suffered.”

“Actually, I do. You told me. And no matter how much you secretly pity yourself because of it, you got off lightly.”

Gaedynn hesitated, then said, “If we compared scars, I might concede that yours run deeper than mine. But we’re talking about Tchazzar.”

“Fine. Let’s talk about him. Let’s give him credit for getting better.”

“Absolutely. He seemed much better, freezing in terror when we needed him. And afterward, when he abused Meralaine and Shala for the heinous offense of helping to keep us all from being overrun.”

Aoth frowned. Gaedynn’s antipathy for their employer was unprofessional and quite possibly dangerous. Which didn’t change the fact that he agreed with the archer’s opinion.

“He was a great ruler,” Jhesrhi said. “That’s why, a hundred years later, people prayed for his return. And he’ll do great things again. He’s already started.”

Gaedynn sighed. “I understand that he’s rubbed balm on the galls that have pained you your whole life through. But that doesn’t make up for everything else he’s done. Or everything he’s going to do.”

Jhesrhi sneered. “You’re not a prophet. You don’t know what he’s going to do.”

“That’s true,” said Aoth. “None of us does. And, through no fault of either of you, this talk hasn’t shed much light on that or any other part of our situation. The only thing I’m sure of is what I already knew going in: We need to abide by our contract, fight the Threskelans, and beat them. If we don’t, the Brotherhood is finished.”

Gaedynn smiled. “But while we’re fighting?”

“We keep our eyes open,” said Aoth. “Figure out as much as we can.”

“Spy,” Jhesrhi said.

“Watch and think,” Aoth replied. “Does that bother you?”

“I’ll do it,” she said. She climbed back onto Scar’s back and brushed a fingertip down his neck. The griffon leaped and lashed his wings.

Gaedynn gave Aoth a sour look. “I don’t like you making her uncomfortable.”

Aoth sighed. “Why? Because it’s your job?”

As Khouryn bowed, he took stock of Tarhun. Viewed in bright sunlight, patches of the vanquisher’s hide were mottled and a paler green than the rest. That was particularly true around the square gold studs, which the red saurian’s fire had likely heated until they themselves were burning hot. But the eyes above the piercings were intact, and the hulking dragonborn stood straight and tall. He looked ready to lead an army once again.

“The healers gave me a great deal of attention,” Tarhun said. It startled Khouryn, who’d tried to make his appraisal without staring. “Too much, perhaps, considering that other warriors lay maimed and dying.”

Khouryn shrugged. “You’re the leader.”

“True. A leader who had difficulty walking abroad until recently. So I need my officers to tell me how the preparations are going.”

“Well. We’re just about ready to march.”

“I understand that you want to take the Platinum Cadre along.”

“I don’t want it. Medrash does. And Balasar too, I think, though he doesn’t say it outright. But they can’t turn them into cavalry. We don’t have enough war-horses for warriors in disgrace to rate mounts. So I get stuck using them as spearmen.”

Tarhun peered at him. “Are you implying you don’t trust them?”

“I trust them to be free of Tiamat’s influence. Because Medrash says he purged them, and I trust him. Do I trust them to stand their ground and follow orders when things get ugly? I don’t know. But then you never really know about that, do you?”

The vanquisher smiled. “No, you don’t. Not when the swords slide out of their scabbards and the arrows start flying. You’re all right, Khouryn Skulldark, and Tymanther owes you a debt. There’s a permanent place for you here, if you care to claim it.”

Khouryn smiled. “Thank you. I appreciate the offer for the honor that it is. But the Brotherhood of the Griffon is my home.” At least until the day came, if it ever did, when he could return to East Rift to stay.

“Majesty!” a voice called. “If you’re ready for us, we’re ready for you.”

Khouryn and Tarhun turned toward the pit, a raw wound in the earth amid the grass and splashes of red and purple wildflowers. Staves, wands, or orbs in hand, an assortment of wizards stood around the edges. To Khouryn’s knowledgeable eye, the majority didn’t look like battle mages. They were too diffident, too vague and abstracted, or just too old and rickety, stooped and gaunt with folds of loose hide hanging. But dragonborn didn’t produce an abundance of arcanists, and the vanquisher had mobilized all there were to deal with the current crisis.

“All right, Kriv. Tell me what’s going to happen,” Tarhun said.

The mage who’d spoken before stepped forth from his fellows. He had bronze hide with black freckles, yellow eyes, a single onyx ring in his left nostril, and a hexagonal brass medallion engraved with a triangle affixed to the center of his forehead. He carried one of Nala’s green globes in his upturned hand.

“At one point,” Kriv said, “some of my more … imaginative colleagues hypothesized that the talismans actually create the reptilian creatures from the raw stuff of primordial chaos. Even though the sheer force required would be prohibitive. And now that we’ve had the opportunity to conduct a proper examination of some functional orbs, it’s clear that they merely transport beasts that already exist in our world from one point in space to another.”

Tarhun nodded. “Go on.”

“The difference,” said Kriv, “is of practical significance. Because it’s possible for countermagic to prevent such an effect.”

“You mean, to stop the orbs from working,” the vanquisher said.

“Yes.”

“I like it,” Khouryn said. “It doesn’t necessarily mean we won’t have to fight any of the brutes. If they’re already alive in the world someplace, the place is probably Black Ash Plain. But if the giants don’t know that they need to march them to the battlefield, we may not have to contend with many. And in any case, the shamans won’t be able to make them pop out of nowhere and surprise us.”

Kriv smiled. “That was our thought. So, with Your Majesty’s permission, we intend to conduct an experiment in two parts. First, to make sure we truly do understand the operation of the talisman, I’ll summon a saurian. Then I’ll attempt to summon another, and my fellow arcanists will thwart me.”

“Do it,” Tarhun said.

Kriv walked to the edge of the pit, peered down at the bottom, raised the orb so its green curves caught the sunlight, and chanted words of power. The other wizards, Tarhun, and Khouryn moved up to look into the hole as well.

A feeling of pressure built up in the air. It made Khouryn’s skin itch and the pulp in his teeth throb in time with the beating of his heart. In one place and another, individual blades of grass grew long, forked, and writhed in a way that reminded him of Nala.

The chant ended on a rising note, and the sense of pressure vanished abruptly. But nothing appeared at the bottom of the pit.

Tarhun whirled. Khouryn didn’t know what had alarmed the monarch, but he figured he’d better spin around too, and snatch for the urgrosh on his back.

Three green kobolds crouched before them. No-not kobolds, for though they at first glance resembled them, they were inhaling in the characteristic manner of creatures readying breath weapons.

Somehow, Tarhun spat his first. The crackling, twisting spear of lightning stabbed one creature in the chest.

Khouryn charged another. It spewed, and he twisted aside. The fumes from the sizzling glob stung his eyes as it passed, but did no actual harm.