“He had one,” Dmitra replied, “to which we’ll return again: to create a climate of fear. I’ll grant you, that by itself isn’t sufficient motive to turn on a supporter, and as yet I can’t resolve the discrepancy, but I can demonstrate that Szass Tam hasn’t sought the identity of the murderer with the zeal one would expect of a compatriot with nothing to hide.”
“How so?” Lallara asked.
“I have the most competent spy network in the realm, and Szass Tam knows it. Over the years, it’s served him well, yet he virtually forbade me to use my agents to seek the identity of the assassin. He said that you, Mistress Yaphyll, would attend to it.”
Yaphyll blinked. “I tried for a while. In fact, Szass and I tried together. Then when our divinations failed to reveal anything, he suggested I turn my attention to other concerns and said he would continue to hunt for the killer by other means. I assumed he was referring to your spies.”
“None of that proves anything,” Samas said.
He looked about, spotted the drink and viands laid out on a table by the wall, and made a mystic gesture in their direction. A bottle floated into the air and poured red wine into a goblet. A knife smeared honey on a sweet roll.
“No,” said Lallara, eyes narrowed, “it doesn’t, but I’ll concede it’s curious, and I also agree that Szass Tam is one of the few people who might have been able to slip into Druxus’s bedchamber undetected or sneak an agent in. He’s also one of the few capable of thwarting Yaphyll’s divinations, especially if he was actually present to undermine the efficacy of the rituals in some subtle fashion.”
“There’s also this,” Dmitra said. “Szass Tam made sure that you, Master Kul, would be elected Druxus Rhym’s successor. I don’t doubt you were a suitable candidate for the post, but still, why was he so concerned that it be you in particular? Could it have been partly because he knew you felt no great fondness for Rhym, and—forgive me for presuming to comment on your character—weren’t the kind of man who would exert himself unduly to investigate a murder that worked to his benefit, even if the crime did constitute an affront against the order of Transmutation?”
Lallara snorted. “You have that right. All this hog cares about is stuffing his coffers and stuffing his mouth.”
Samas glared at her. “I understand I’m your junior and that you have a shrewish disposition. Still, have a care how you speak to me.”
“Masters, please,” Dmitra said. “I beg you not to quarrel among yourselves. If my suspicions are correct, that’s the last thing you should do.”
“Is there more to say about Druxus’s death?” Yaphyll asked.
“Unfortunately no,” Dmitra replied, “so let’s consider the battle in the Gorge of Gauros.” She smiled. “I myself have a spy’s nose for truth and falsehood, and from the start, something about the tale that came down from the north smelled wrong. Since Szass Tam figured prominently in the story, and he’d just piqued my curiosity by terminating my inquiries into Druxus Rhym’s murder, I decided to look into the matter of the ‘Rashemi invasion’ instead.
“I found out there wasn’t any. The barbarians weren’t on their way south to attack us. Tharchions Kren and Odesseiron were marching north to invade Rashemen, but after a near-disastrous battle forced them to abandon their ambitions, Szass Tam supported them when, to avert the anger of the rest of you zulkirs, they claimed the Rashemi were the aggressors.”
“And you think,” Lallara said, “it was because, coming so soon after Druxus’s murder, that story added to the ‘climate of fear’ Szass Tam hoped to create.”
“Yes,” Dmitra said, “but if we look deeper, we’ll discern even more. Allow me to describe the battle in detail.” She did so with the concise clarity of a woman who, though she wore the crimson robes of a wizard, also possessed the requisite skills to command troops in the field. “Now several questions suggest themselves: How did the Rashemi know our legions were coming and where best to intercept them? How were the witches able to counter the Thayan wizardry holding the river in check so easily? How was it that Szass Tam discerned the army’s peril from wherever he was and translated himself onto the scene just in time to avert calamity?”
Yaphyll chuckled. “Perhaps the greatest mage in Thay perceives all manner of signs and portents invisible to lesser beings like ourselves.” At the moment, she didn’t actually feel like jesting, but they all had their masks to wear, and hers was the cute lass with the light heart and irrepressible sense of humor. Even after she rose through high in the hierarchy of her order, and any person of sense should have realized she possessed a ruthless heart and adamantine will, it had caused foes and rivals to underestimate her. “But you’re positing that his spies reported Kren and Odesseiron’s plans before they ever marched and he then somehow conveyed critical military and arcane intelligence to the Rashemi, providing them with the means to smash the Thayan host, and finally, he rushed to the tharchions’ rescue.”
“Exactly,” Dmitra said, “because it isn’t enough to frighten everyone. He also wants to convince the nobles, legions, and commons that he’s the one champion who can end our woes. Obviously, the recent trouble in Pyarados must have seemed like a boon from the gods. It’s given him the chance to play the savior not just once but twice.”
Samas swallowed the food in his mouth, and then, his full lips glazed with honey, asked, “Why would he suddenly care so much about the opinion of his inferiors?”
“With your permission, Your Omnipotence,” Dmitra replied, “before we ponder that, perhaps it would be well to finish our review of recent events, to consider the death of Aznar Thrul.”
Yaphyll grinned. “Must we? I’d hoped that was one matter we understood already. In the wake of Druxus’s murder, Nevron loaned the other members of his faction demons bodyguards. One of the spirits slipped its tether and surprised Thrul when he was amusing himself with a female slave and ill prepared to defend himself. It tore them apart and afterward some of Thrul’s followers killed it in its turn.”
“I suspect,” Dmitra said, “the truth is more complex. From what my spies have managed to determine, it’s not clear that the thrall’s body has been recovered. We do know the creature that ran amok liked to kill by biting its victims in the throat and that some people remember it as originally being huge and male, whereas the entity the conjurors ultimately slew possessed the same four arms, scales, and what have you, but was no taller than a human being and female.
“I believe the original creature was a blood drinker and transformed the slave into an entity like itself so she would kill Aznar Thrul. In other words, it wasn’t a demon in the truest sense, but rather some exotic form of vampire.”
“Which suggests,” Lallara said, “that it wasn’t really a conjuror who summoned and bound it but rather a necromancer like Szass Tam, who then slipped it into Thrul’s palace amid a troupe of Nevron’s demons.”
Samas nodded, his multiple chins wobbling. “Figuring that the murder of a second zulkir would spread that much more terror throughout the land. I understand, but we should also recognize that at least this death benefits us as well. Thrul was our enemy. With him gone, our faction controls the council, at least until the conjurors elect a new leader, and if he turns out to be sympathetic to our views, we can run things as we like for the foreseeable future.”
“That assumes,” Dmitra answered, “your faction remains intact, that you still view yourselves and Szass Tam as sharing common interests.”
“Why wouldn’t we?” Samas asked.
“I see it,” Yaphyll said, and though she still wasn’t certain Dmitra was correct, the mere possibility made her feel queasy. “Supposedly, Thay is in jeopardy. The Rashemi threaten from the north and undead marauders from the east. An unknown foe strikes down the zulkirs one by one. Fortunately, a hero has demonstrated the will and capacity to save the realm—if given a free hand to do so. You think that’s the object of convening the council, don’t you, Tharchion? Szass Tam is going to ask us to elect him
supreme ruler of Thay.”
Lallara grinned a sardonic grin. “Only temporarily, no doubt. Just until the crisis is resolved.”
“He can’t believe we would ever consent to such a thing!” Samas cried. “It’s one thing to acknowledge him as the eldest and most accomplished of the zulkirs and the leader of our faction—first among equals, so to speak—but none of us fought all the way up to the loftiest rank in the land just to enthrone an overlord to command us as his vassals.”
“I understand that,” Dmitra said, “but I still felt it incumbent on me to warn you. Imagine if I hadn’t. You’ve pledged your loyalty to Szass Tam, and knowing just how shrewd and powerful he is, you have no inclination to cross him. You take your seat in council worried over threats to the realm and your own personal safety as well. It appears the lich is the only person who’s enjoyed any success confronting any of the various problems. Certainly that’s what the populace at large believes.
“Now then: In the situation I’ve described, when Szass Tam requests his regency, or however he intends to put it, who among you, without knowing how the others feel, is bold enough to be the first to denounce the proposal?”
Yaphyll wished she could claim that she would find the courage, but she wondered if it was so. No zulkir could show weakness by confessing to fear of anyone or anything. But the truth was, even though he’d supported her in all her endeavors, she was afraid of Szass Tam, and she could tell that Samas and even Lallara, with her bitter, thorny nature, felt the same.
Lallara laughed. “Hear the silence! It appears, Tharchion, that none of us would dare.”
“That means four votes in favor,” Dmitra said, “and with Evocation’s seat empty, at best three against. The measure passes. To forestall that, I hope the three of you will pledge here and now to stand firm against it.”
“No,” said Samas Kul, “or at least, not yet.”
Dmitra inclined her head. “May I ask what more you require to persuade you, Master?”
“Yes, illusionist,” the fat man replied, “you may. You’ve whistled up a host of phantoms to affright us, but I’d be more inclined to cower if I understood why you of all people would want to warn us. You’re one of Szass Tam’s favorites. If he crowned himself king, you’d benefit.”
“You forget,” Yaphyll said, “Tharchion Flass has sworn to serve all of us zulkirs, and I’m sure that, like all of us, she’s concerned first and foremost with the welfare of the realm.”
Lallara shot her a poisonous glance. “Your little drolleries are growing even more tiresome than usual.” She shifted her glare to Dmitra. “The hog raises a valid point. If this is all a charade, it’s hard to imagine what you could possibly be trying to achieve, but still: Why should we trust you?”
“Because Szass Tam no longer does,” Dmitra replied. “In times past, he would have confided in me. Involved me in any scheme to which I might prove useful, even the assassination of a fellow zulkir, yet now, suddenly, he dissembles with me and only asks me to advance his schemes in a limited fashion, even though I’ve given him no reason to question my loyalty.
“Why? I can’t imagine, any more than I know what he gained by murdering Druxus Rhym, or why, after contenting himself with being senior zulkir for so long, he’s decided to strike for even greater authority. Not understanding alarms me.
“What I do know is that life in Thay as it’s currently governed has been good to me. I have a nasty suspicion that, for whatever reason, I wouldn’t find existence so congenial under Szass Tam’s new regime.”
She smiled. “So I’m trying to keep things as they are, and hope to manage to do so with minimal risk to myself. I’ve taken pains to keep Szass Tam from learning of this meeting, and if none of you tattles that I sought to rally you against him, I shouldn’t suffer for it.”
Lallara grunted. “What you say makes a certain amount of sense, Tharchion, which isn’t to imply I embrace it as complete and utter truth. And perhaps your motives don’t matter so very much, because Samas was right about one thing: He, Yaphyll, and I are all averse to installing the lich in a new office higher than our own. It’s clear from our manner even if we haven’t declared it outright, so I say, yes, let’s seal a secret pact of resistance, just in case.”
Yaphyll nodded. “Agreed. No kingship or regency for anyone, ever, under any circumstances.” Unless, of course, she could somehow, someday win such a prize for herself.
Samas Kul heaved a sigh. “I agree, too, I suppose.”
It was as eloquent an oration as Szass Tam had ever given. He enumerated the dire menaces facing Thay in general and the zulkirs personally. He reminded the other mage lords of his accomplishments, recent and otherwise, and pointed out how divided leadership could prevent even the greatest realm in Faerûn from achieving its goals or coping in an emergency. The failed military endeavors of recent decades were obvious examples.
He also promised he’d step down as soon as he eliminated the threats to the common weal. He omitted, however, any mention of the hideous punishments he’d meted out to folk who had, at one time or another, balked or angered the oldest and most powerful wizard in the land. He was certain the other zulkirs recalled those without his needing to allude to them.
Yet when he saw the glances that passed among Yaphyll, Lallara, and Samas Kul, he realized that somehow the other members of his faction had already known what he was going to propose. Known, palavered in secret, and resolved to oppose him as staunchly as the remaining zulkirs, and that was staunchly indeed. The other three were his long-time enemies: Nevron with his perpetual sneer and the brimstone stink of his demon servitors clinging to his person; Lauzoril, deceptively bland and clerkish; and Mythrellan, who affected to despise everyone else on the council, who changed her face as often as other great noblewomen changed their gowns, frequently to something with an element of the bizarre but always exquisite nonetheless. Today her eyes were gold and her skin sky blue. A haze of unformed illusion ready for the shaping made her image soft and blurry.
Even though he recognized early on that he was almost certainly speaking in vain, Szass Tam carried on to the end then called for a vote. It seemed possible that, now that the moment for support or defiance had arrived, his supposed allies might lose their nerve.
Alas, they remained resolute. Only Szass raised his hand in support of the proposal he himself had introduced. Nevron leered to see his foe so humiliated. Even prim Lauzoril managed a smirk.
Though he hadn’t expected to find Yaphyll, Samas, and Lallara united against him, Szass had thought himself prepared for the possibility that his ploy would fail. Still, the mockery inspired an unexpected paroxysm of rage. He yearned to lash out at every adversary, old and newly revealed, seated around the gleaming red maple table.
He didn’t, of course. Attacking six other zulkirs at once might well prove suicidal, even for a mage more powerful than any one of them. Instead, making sure his mask of affability didn’t slip, he inclined his head in seeming acceptance.
“So be it,” he said. “We’ll continue on as we always have, deciding all matters by consensus. Be assured, I don’t resent it that you rejected my plan, prudent though I believe it was, and I’ll keep working diligently to solve the problems that plague us.”
At the same time, simply by thinking, he sent a signal. He’d prepared the magic beforehand, with sufficient concern for subtlety to ensure that even the extraordinarily perceptive Yaphyll wouldn’t notice it thrilling through the aether.
After that, everyone blathered on for a while longer, and though he felt a seething impatience to depart, he supposed that really it was fine. His minions needed time to do their work.
As soon as the meeting broke up, he spurned Samas, Yaphyll, and Lallara with their slinking excuses and attempts at reconciliation and translated himself back to his study in the citadel of the order of Necromancy. It took the warlock waiting there an instant to notice his arrival, and then the fellow flung himself to his knees. Tsagoth knelt as well, a
lbeit with a glower. Apparently the blood fiend had expected his master to liberate him once he accomplished the death of Aznar Thrul, but as demonstrated by that success, he was too useful an agent to relinquish when so many challenging tasks remained.
“Get up,” Szass Tam said. “Tell me what’s happening.”
“Yes, Master,” said the younger necromancer, rising. Szass had the conceit that if he peered deep into his subordinate’s eyes, he could glimpse an indefinable wrongness there, a hint of the psychic shackles binding the live wizard to silence and obedience, but perhaps it was only his imagination. “Our agents are spreading the tidings that, in their arrogance, folly, and ingratitude, the other zulkirs denied you the authority you need to preserve the realm.”
“With the proper enchantments in play to make the news seem as infuriating as possible.”
“Yes, Master, just as you directed.”
“Good.” Szass Tam turned to Tsagoth. “You know what to do from here. Go tell your partners.”
Nular Tabar glanced back at the shuttered three-story brick house behind him. It wasn’t the primary stronghold of the order of Conjuration in Eltabbar. That imposing citadel was on the other side of town, but despite a lack of banners, overt supernatural manifestations, and the like, everyone in the neighborhood knew this was some sort of chapter house. People saw the mages and their retainers passing in and out.
They weren’t coming out now. They were leaving the protection of the property to Nular and the dozen legionnaires in his patrol, and at that point, it remained to be seen just how hard the job would be. Though in normal times, no commoner dared annoy Red Wizards, scores of people had gathered to glare, mill about, and shout slogans and insults at the house. Apparently, they all wanted Szass Tam for their king, were angry they weren’t going to get him, and had decided to hold Nevron, notoriously one of the lich’s enemies, responsible for their disappointment. The zulkir of Conjuration wasn’t here to bear the brunt of their anger, but a structure belonging to his order was.
Unclean: The Haunted Lands Page 24
