Unholy (22 page)

He set his spear on the tabletop and inclined his head in the implication of a bow. “Master Kul, I apologize. Obviously, it isn’t my place to give you orders. But I ask you to stay at least until we all finish our talk. Surely you can afford that much time.”

“Yes,” Nevron said, “stay. We insist.”

Samas looked around the table, and then his throne floated back to its original position, settling to the floor so gently as to be silent despite its grandiose size and the bulk of the man inside it. Aoth sat back down in his own chair.

Samas took a long drink from his silver goblet. “All right, then. Someone convince me we have something sensible to talk about. Can we seize control of a second Dread Ring?” He glowered at Aoth, and the other zulkirs turned to him as well.

Aoth sighed. “It’s unlikely. We lost too much of our strength taking this one. To be honest, we might find it difficult even to reach another Ring. The only way to do it is to march deeper into Thay, and we’re almost certain to encounter resisrance along the way.”

“Then there isn’t anything to discuss, and this is just a waste of time.”

“Not necessarily,” Bareris said.

Aoth felt a flicker of hope. “Do you have an idea?”

“It’s not a new one,” Bareris said, “but it fits the situation. If we can’t destroy the weapon, we have to destroy the creature who intends to wield it.”

Nevron snorted. “Assassinate Szass Tam, you mean. You’re certainly right that it’s not an original notion. Over the decades, I’ve sent scores of demons and devils to do the job. The Church of Kossuth emptied out its monasteries dispatching Black Flame Zealots. And all to no avail.”

“What,” replied Bareris, “if all of you—or rather, all of us— were the assassins, and we took the lich by surprise? Wouldn’t we have a reasonable chance of overwhelming him, and then finding the vessel where he stores his soul to keep him from rising again?”

“Yes,” Lallara said, “and perhaps if we had a net with a long enough handle, and the strength to lift it, we’d have ‘a reasonable chance’ of scooping stars down from the sky too. But there’s no way to take Szass Tam unawares, perhaps no way to get close to him at all. The Citadel is too well guarded, and you can’t translate yourself into it.”

“What,” Bareris asked, “if you already had an ally inside, he had some ability to open portals in space, and he tried to help you come through? Do you think that the four of you, working in concert, could overcome rhe wards then?”

Lauzoril frowned and laced his fingers together. “Possibly.”

“Do we have such an agent in place?” Samas asked.

“Not yet,” Bareris said.

“Then what’s the point of speculating?”

“Somehow, I’ll get myself inside.”

“Frankly,” Lauzoril said, “that seems unlikely. I’m not sure you could penetrate the defenses even in times of peace, and surely, by now, Szass Tam and his lieutenants are aware of our presence in the realm. They’re watching us in one fashion or another.”

“I assume so,” Bareris said. “That’s why I want the army to head for another Dread Ring just as if we actually believed we could lay siege to it successfully. That should mask our true intentions and rivet the foe’s attention on you. Meanwhile, Mirror and I will sneak into High Thay by ourselves.”

“So,” Samas said, “we zulkirs march deeper and deeper into enemy territory, fighting for every mile, lingering dangerously close to the site from which Szass Tam will ultimately send forth waves of death magic. All in the hope that you’ll eventually contact us and tell us that somehow, against all rational expectation, you’ve figured out how to get us into striking distance of the lich.”

Bareris smiled. “Pretty much.”

“Preposterous.”

“I don’t particularly like it, either,” said Aoth. Indeed, it pained him to imagine the punishment the Brotherhood of the Griffon would endure; only the vision of all-encompassing destruction he’d seen over Veltalar could have induced him to subject them to such an ordeal. “But so far, it’s the only plan we’ve got.”

“That isn’t so,” Samas said. “We zulkirs can be far from here in a heartbeat. You griffon riders also have a good chance of getting clear. If you’re concerned about the rest of your troops, then find the coin to put them aboard fast ships, and even they may get away.”

“But what if there isn’t any such place as ‘clear’ or ‘away’ ? What if Szass Tam truly can kill the whole world?”

Samas sneered. “If you understood magic as we do, you’d realize that’s impossible.”

“You all thought it was impossible for the lich to continue with one Ring destroyed too, and look how that worked out. Don’t try to tell me you’re certain of his limits.”

The obese transmuter opened his mouth, then closed it again. In fact, it appeared that Aoth had succeeded in silencing all four zulkirs, for a moment anyway, and despite the circumstances, he found it rather satisfying.

Then Lauzoril said, “Still, if it’s a choice between sitting peacefully in Waterdeep and gambling that the tide of death won’t reach that far, or staying here fighting the worst the necromancers can throw at us, knowing that at any moment, the Unmaking could commence just a few hundred miles from our location… well, you see my point.”

“I do,” said Aoth. He reminded himself not to speak of all the innocent lives that would be lost if the zulkirs abandoned them to their fate, because he knew his former masters wouldn’t care. Indeed, such an appeal was likely to stir their contempt. “But I thought you all decided that the Wizard’s Reach is worth fighting for.”

“We did fight for it,” Samas said. “We did everything practical. Now it’s time to regroup. Maybe the Reach will survive, for despite your pretensions to prophecy, Captain, we still don’t actually know that Szass Tarn’s ritual will do anything at all. And if the Reach does perish, at least we’ll still have our lives, much of our wealth, and our magic. In time, we’ll acquire new dominions.”

“Then run,” said Aoth. “By all the Hells, you did it in Bezantur ninety years ago. I don’t know why I expected any better of you this time around.”

Nevron glared. “Be careful how you speak to us.”

“To the Hells with that and with you,” Aoth snapped. “Of course, we all see that this is a desperate situation, but you’re supposed to be zulkirs of Thay. The greatest of wizards, and warlords on top of that. Bareris is offering you a chance, however dangerous, to take revenge on the creature who betrayed you and cast you down from your high estate, and to reclaim your mastery of the realm. But you’re too cowardly to take it. You’d rather play it safe!”

Nevron scowled but found nothing to say in return. For a moment, neither did anyone else. Then Lallara looked to Bareris and asked, “Do you truly believe you can find a way inside the Citadel?”

“I’ve spent decades slipping in and out of places the necromancers believed impregnable,” the bard replied. “So why not Szass Tarn’s own house?”

“Why not, indeed?” she answered. “All right, I’ll go along with your scheme. It’s idiotic, but I won’t have it said of me that I ran like a rabbit whenever the lich waggled that stupid beard of his in my direction.”

“I’ll stay too,” Nevron said, “because I am a warlord, Captain, with a destiny of conquest greater than you can comprehend. Maybe it’s time I start acting the part.”

“Then I too will stay for as long as I see a point to it.” Lauzoril smiled tightly. “I know the rest of you see me as somewhat… bloodless. But I’ve hated Szass Tam for a long time. It’s enticing to think I might finally get the chance to show him just how much.”

Lallara gave Samas a nasty leer. “That leaves you, hog.”

“Curse you all,” the transmuter said, sweat beading his ruddy brow. “This is madness.”

“Oh, probably. But what if you desert us, and then the mad plan works? I hope you don’t think we’ll tolerate you back in Thay or in the Wizard’s Reach, either. By the Seven Shields, I’m not sure I could abide the thought of your continued existence anywhere.”

“All right!” Samas snarled. “If you all insist, we can try it and see where we are in a few days.”

Once they all had agreed, they had to elaborate on Bareris’s basic idea, and that took most of the night. Sehlne and her trail of glittering Tears had forsaken the sky by the time the council broke up,

Though tired, Aoth felt an impulse to mount the battlements and check for signs of trouble before he sought his bed. Pulling his cloak tight against the cold breeze whistling from the east, he started up the stairs that climbed to the top of the wall, and Bareris followed a step behind him.

“That went all right,” said Aoth, “but when we were arguing about what to do, I was surprised you left me to do so much of the talking. After all, you’re the eloquent one.”

“Since they all came around,” Bareris replied, “plainly, you were eloquent enough. Besides, I couldn’t talk and hum at the same time.”

Aoth stopped and looked around. “I didn’t hear any humming.”

“Because I did it very softly.” Bareris’s black eyes suddenly opened wider. “But I swear, you weren’t the target!”

“I believe you. I trust you, and even if I didn’t, my feelings didn’t change. I was resolved to continue the fight before the council ever began. I’m just appalled because those four are zulkirs. More than that, Lauzoril is the master of enchantment, and Lallara, of defensive magic.”

“I knew it was risky. Still, I hoped I could give them a little nudge and get away with it.”

Aoth took a deep breath. “Well, I won’t argue with success. Or claim to be outraged at the thought of manipulating them as callously as they’ve always exploited anyone under their sway.”

“Good. I wouldn’t want to part company with bad feelings between us.”

“When will you and Mirror split off from the army?” “As soon as the march is under way.”

“I believe the griffon you were riding survived the battle unharmed.”

“Thanks, but I don’t need him. At this point, any sentry who spots a griffon rider will immediately think of Aoth Fezim and his sellswords. I’ll do better to choose another steed from among the ones the enemy kept here in the Ring.” A smile came and went on his pallid face. “It was… pleasant to ride a griffon one last time.”

“After we destroy Szass Tam, you can ride them whenever you like.”

“I think I’ll visit the stables now.” Bareris turned and headed back down the stairs.

Malark felt a hostile presence lurking on his right. Employing the mental skills he’d learned as a Monk of the Long Death, he ignoted it and kept his awareness focused on the silent stretch of tunnel ahead of him. That was where his quarry was likely to appear.

The Watcher, as generations of Red Wizards and their servants had called his invisible and unwanted companion, haunted a section of the catacombs decorated with dingy paintings of scenes from which all the people and animals seemed to have vanished—throne rooms without monarchs or courtiers, wedding feasts devoid of bride, groom, guests, and musicians, and forests uninhabited by birds or squirrels. The spirit never actually did anything to mortals who trespassed in its domain. Still, most people found the pressure of its hateful regard so nerve-wracking that they gave this part of the dungeons a wide berth.

To Malark, though, it was no great matter. He actually found himself more distracted by thoughts of his magical twin.

He’d sensed it when his counterpart had died, and he felt a wry sort of envy. He’d wooed death for centuries, to no avail. His twin had needed to exist for only a few days before the greatest of all powers had seen fit to extinguish him. And since the two Malarks had been exactly alike, it was difficult to perceive any sort of justice in the event.

But in light of the destiny he was pursuing, he didn’t really mind—unless his double’s demise indicated that the unique instrument Szass Tam had created was in jeopardy. At the moment, it must still exist, for Malark was sure he would have sensed its destruction, also. But was it safe? Despite the regent’s tutelage, he

wasn’t a master diviner, and his magical inquiries on the subject yielded ambiguous results. And unfortunately, hiding here in the depths, he had no other way of obtaining information.

He took a breath, let it go, and sought to dismiss the problem from his mind just as he expelled air from his lungs. A warrior could fight only one fight at a time. He’d address other concerns after he won the current battle.

Thanks to his headband, he glimpsed motion at the very limit of his vision. The murky shapes passed quickly from left to right, proceeding north along a passage that intersected the one he was peering down.

Malark waited for another moment after they disappeared, then, making sure to move silently, jumped up and sprinted through the maze of tunnels. The Watcher kept pace with him. No doubt Szass Tam and the vampire knights felt its oppressive stare as keenly as he did, for its nature was such that it was capable of despising multiple intruders at the same time.

Malark came to a branching passage, halted, and listened. He heard nothing and wasn’t surprised. The undead moved quietly too, especially when they were hunting.

If he’d needed to recite an incantation and time the final word with the stalkers’ appearance in the gloom, that might have posed a problem, but he’d had the foresight to store the spell he required in a ring. When his pursuers, following the trail he’d laid for them, came into view, he extended his arm and breathed the trigger word. A spark erupted from the cabo-chon ruby set in the gold band and streaked at Szass Tam and his bodyguards.

When it reached the hunters, the spark flared and boomed into an explosion of yellow flame. Malark knew better than to suppose it would do much harm to Szass Tam. The lich was too powerful and too wrapped in protective enchantments. But with any luck, it would incinerate the vampires.

It certainly appeared to. It took Malark an instant to realize he’d glimpsed only two armored bodies breaking apart in the flash.

Which suggested he wasn’t the only one capable of trickery. Szass Tam and two of the knights had stayed together in an effort to snare his attention while a third vampire prowled alone in the hope of creeping up on him.

Malark pivoted, and the creature was right behind him. The warrior was just completing the process of changing from wisps of mist to human form, but he already had his sword in his hand. He made a horizontal cut at Malark’s torso.