The rest of his band of refugees arrived before he could ask. Griffon riders glided down the sky to perch on rooftops, and the horsemen trotted through the gate. The leader of the knights inspected the litter of corpses on the ground, shook his head, and said, "What now?"
"We take what we need," said Aoth, "as fast as we can. Food, water, arrows, and fresh horses. Healing and charms of strength and stamina from any priest or wizard we can find. Then we ride on."
"If we could sleep for just a little while-"
"We can't, because if Szass Tam's legions show up outside the walls, we can't hold Mophur by ourselves, and we can't count on the townsfolk to help us. So we have no choice but to keep moving. Get used to it. We're likely to find people changing allegiance all the way south, or at least in every place that has a shrine to Bane."
Bat wings beating, Tsagoth flew over the battlements of Hurkh, and his command-vampires, wraiths, and other undead capable of flight-hurtled after him. No one was stupid enough to shoot at them.
That was as he expected. The town was flying crimson banners adorned with black skulls. The flags glowed with magical phosphorescence to make them stand out against the night sky. The no-doubt hastily sewn cloths didn't precisely duplicate any of Szass Tam's personal emblems, but their message was plain enough.
Tsagoth swooped down into Hurkh's central square and flowed into bipedal form. Some of the vampires did the same, while others melted into wolves. The phantoms hovered, and elsewhere in the city, dogs began to howl.
"Whoever governs this place," Tsagoth shouted at the gates of the town's central keep, "reveal yourself!"
No one inside the fortress responded, although he could sense wretched little humans cowering inside. Rather, the door of a building on the opposite side of the plaza opened.
Constructed of blackened stone, the structure was a temple of Bane, a mass of spires adorned with spikes, jags, and windows narrow as arrow loops. Judging from the black and green gems adorning her dark vestments, the Mulan lady who emerged first looked to be the high priestess. She smiled and strode with a confident air, but the four lesser priests creeping in her wake were pale, wide-eyed, and stank of sweat and fear.
"Good evening," she said. "My name is Unara Anrakh." Up close, she smelled of the myrrh she probably burned during her devotions.
"Are you in charge?" Tsagoth asked.
"For the moment," Unara replied. "Until His Omnipotence Szass Tam appoints a new autharch. The previous one was deaf to the voice of Bane."
Tsagoth grinned. "So you murdered him."
"Should I have allowed him to keep his position and continue giving his fealty to the council? I knew that if I did, you and your comrades would lay siege to Hurkh and put us all to the sword."
Perhaps she believed Hurkh was of greater strategic importance than it actually was. Still, she had a point. "We might have gotten around to it eventually."
"But now there's no need. We pledge our loyalty to Szass Tam and have already begun to serve him. Come visit the Black Hand's altar. See the heads heaped before it. Each belonged to a southern legionnaire. The autharch gave them refuge inside the city walls, and after we killed him, my followers and I disposed of them as well."
"I'm sure it's an impressive display," he said, not caring whether or not she detected his sarcasm. "But I doubt you managed to kill every southern soldier who fled in this direction."
Unara blinked. "That's true. We needed to fly the skull banners so you wouldn't attack us by mistake. But once we started, the southerners stopped coming near the walls."
"Then my company and I need to press on without delay. With luck, we might overtake more southerners before the end of the night. But first we want to feed. I need forty people, one for each of my followers."
The priestess hesitated. "I… learned about spectres and similar entities during my training. Do they require nourishment?"
"No. But they have a constant, insatiable drive to hurt and kill, and it's easier to control them if I allow them to gratify it periodically."
"Oh. I see. But as I explained, we've pledged ourselves to Szass Tam, and I promised everyone that it would make us safe."
"Most of you will be, unless you keep trying my patience. Have your guards fetch the forty folk you consider most expendable. Otherwise, I'll simply turn these hounds of mine loose to feed on whatever rabbits they can catch."
As he'd expected, Unara brought slaves and emptied out the town jail to fulfill his requirements. Still, as ghosts plunged their shadowy hands into the flesh of the living, withering their victims, and the occasional vampire, lost to blood lust, chewed a throat to shreds, she periodically winced. Perhaps it had occurred to her that Szass Tam's troops would pass this way again, and eventually all the thralls and captured felons would be gone.
Tsagoth rather enjoyed her discomfiture. Prompted by her god, or so she claimed, she chose to embrace the rule of a lich and the necromancers and undead who carried out his will. Well, here was a first taste of what that would entail.
It wasn't the first time Aoth had regretted attaining high rank. With the exception of Mirror, every other member of the ragtag band he'd shepherded south was almost certainly sleeping the sleep of utter exhaustion. He, on the other hand, was standing at attention and saluting.
"By the Great Flame," said Nymia Focar, seated behind a silvery soth-wood desk so highly polished that it gleamed even in the wan daylight shining through the window, "was the journey as hard as your appearance suggests?"
"I'm just tired and dirty. We didn't have to fight south of Mophur. But we had to keep running. I kept hoping we'd reach a place where we could rest for a while and be safe, but we never found it. Some towns and fortresses have gone over to Szass Tam. Some no longer exist, or are in such bad shape that the northerners could overrun them in a heartbeat. Earthquakes knocked the walls down, or they endured some other calamity. Even Tyraturos was no good for us. Dimon naturally favored the church of Bane while he was alive, and the clerics are taking full advantage of the authority he gave them." He gave his head a shake. "Am I rambling? If I am, I'm sorry."
"Don't be. You're making sense." She gestured to a table laden with bottles of wine and a platter of dark brown bread, apples, pears, and white and yellow cheeses. "Take whatever you want, sit down before you fall down, and then give me a full report while you eat."
He generally didn't try to eat and converse with a superior at the same time. He feared it would make him look more graceless and uncouth-more Rashemi-than he did already. But for once he was too starved to worry about it. He poured a goblet of pale amber wine, loaded a plate, and dropped down in a chair.
He fancied that, exhausted and famished though he was, he at least managed to talk between mouthfuls rather than through them. When he finished, Nymia said, "Your report agrees with everyone else's. This situation is bad."
"You didn't see firsthand?"
"I happened to be near a circle of conjurors when they made the decision to abandon the battlefield, and they translated me back to Bezantur along with them. I didn't have to journey overland."
How nice for you, he thought. "I saw a fair number of griffons in the aerie, so a reasonable number of my men must have made it to safety. That's something, anyway."
"It would be more if we were actually safe."
Aoth took another sip of wine. "Don't you think we are? Bezantur's the biggest city in Thay. The walls are high and thick, and whatever strength remains to the south stands ready to man them. Give or take a few companies still wandering around the countryside, maybe unaware that we even lost a major battle in Eltabbar."
Nymia sighed. "I don't know. A year ago, I would have said that even Szass Tam couldn't take Bezantur. But now the south is weaker than ever before, and I'm not just talking about our legions. We lost two more zulkirs. Dmitra Flass didn't return from the battlefield. She died, was taken prisoner, or defected. Then Zola Sethrakt dropped dead. Of wounds sustained in the battle, or so I'm told."
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"I admit, that's unfortunate."
"So is the state of the city's food stores. We can't endure a protracted siege. Szass Tam can starve us into submission."
"What are you telling me-that the council wants to surrender?"
"No, but they might flee into exile and abandon mainland Thay to fend for itself. The fleet is in port waiting to carry people of importance away. We legionnaires are likewise prepared to commandeer every other vessel we can lay our hands on."
Aoth felt sick to his stomach. "So that's it? After fighting for ten years, we're just going to run away?"
"Not necessarily. The zulkirs haven't made a final decision." Her lips quirked into a crooked smile. "Nor have I."
"What do you mean?"
"Perhaps it's not too late to slip out of Bezantur, offer my services to Szass Tam, and secure a position of wealth and influence in the Thay to come."
Aoth marveled that she trusted him enough to confide such thoughts to him. Didn't she realize that he knew she'd acquiesced to the zulkirs' plan to vivisect him?
Maybe, he thought with a flicker of wry amusement, she understood him better than he'd ever imagined, well enough to realize her callousness hadn't ignited a thirst for revenge in him. He still wasn't sure why not. Perhaps, with the world falling and burning around him, he simply didn't have the outrage to spare for every disappointment and betrayal.
At any rate, he told her, "Go if you want to. I won't tell. But I won't go with you, either."
"Why not?"
"If I weren't so tired, maybe I could explain it to you. Or to myself. As it is, I just know after coming this far, I don't feel like turning my cloak at the end. Maybe I don't want to be like that whoreson Malark."
"I think you owe it to yourself to think more deeply than that. Even if we assume that the zulkirs can somehow hold this part of the coast, or that Szass Tam won't come after them if they flee into exile, we surely can live grander, richer lives in his new kingdom than in the council's shrunken dominions."
"I wouldn't be certain of that. You see what he's made of Thay already."
"As a tactic. He'll bring back sunshine and green grass after he wins the war."
"You're probably right. But, maybe because I'm so tired, I swear I can hear Malark asking the question he pondered over and over again-why did Szass Tam murder Druxus Rhym?"
Nymia shook her head, and the stud in her nostril caught a ray of light. "Now you're no longer making sense, or at least you're fretting over trivia. He killed Rhym before the war even started. Ten years later, what does it matter why?"
"I suppose it doesn't. Unless it points to the fact that there's still something about Szass Tam's schemes that we don't understand."
"We may not understand everything about his strategy, but you'd have to be an imbecile not to comprehend his objective. He means to be sole ruler of Thay, and once he is, he'll launch wars of conquest and try to make himself emperor of the East."
"Of course. You're right, and I'm blathering. But here's something that isn't blather: Szass Tam has plenty of lords and war leaders who have served him faithfully since the war began. Even if he welcomes you into his host, those others will all be standing in line ahead of you to claim their rewards when the conflict ends. Do you think there'll be a tharch left for you to govern? Or even a town in need of an autharch?"
She sighed. "Probably not. So I suppose I might as well stick where I am. But if only all these wretched zulkirs would destroy each other! Then I'd crown myself queen of Pyarados and appoint you marshal of my legions."
Aoth smiled. "It's a nice dream, High Lady."
As a boy, Bareris had loved the harbor. The sea breeze made a refreshing change from the stinks of the slum in which he lived, travelers sang new songs and told new stories, and the spectacle of the myriad ships with their towering masts, intricate rigging, and banks of oars fed his dreams of finding adventure and wealth in foreign lands. Tammith had liked it too, or perhaps she'd simply liked accompanying him wherever he chose to wander.
As in days past, they strolled beside the water, but everything seemed different than he remembered. The docks didn't bustle by night as they had by day, particularly with legionnaires standing watch to keep ordinary folk away from the piers. The waves were black, not blue and rippling with sunlight, and Tammith's fingers were cold in his.
Still, he was grateful to be here.
Tammith sniffed, her nostrils flaring. He did the same, but could smell only salt air and the leftover stink of the catch the fishermen had brought into port earlier that day. He supposed that she, with her inhumanly keen senses, perceived something more.
"It's a pity," she said.
"What is?"
"This part of the docks used to smell of spices. Now it doesn't."
"You have a good memory."
"When we were paupers' children, we used to imagine a day when we'd be able to afford foods prepared with expensive seasonings and all the other luxuries Bezantur provided for the wealthy. Now we're officers, lords of a sort, and we can have most anything we want. But the war has turned our home into a faded, tired place."
"Do you mind so very much?"
She sighed. "Perhaps I'm simply trying to mind. I don't have a problem with caring too much about things that don't really matter. My difficulty is trying to feel that anything does."
He forced a grin. "You were supposed to say, 'No, I don't mind at all, so long as we're together.' "
Her pale lips quirked into a smile. "That would have been better, wouldn't it? But you have to remember, you're the bard, gifted with a ready wit and golden tongue."
"Perhaps I can use them to coax you behind that pile of crates where you first permitted me to touch you under your shift."
"Bezantur would have to have some lazy dockhands if it's still there after all these years. Anyway, I can't believe you're feeling lickerish again so soon."
"We have sixteen years' worth of lost love to make up for. I assure you, I can couch my lance for another tilt. And you can nibble my neck if you want."
"No!"
Her vehemence surprised him. "You realize, I like it, too."
"That only makes it worse. If we're going to do this-be together-it has to be in the way of a natural man and woman. We need to put perversity behind us."
"All right. If you want it that way. Although you know, there are different sorts of perversity."
She cocked her head. "I suppose you learned of all manner of strange and disgusting practices during your time among the outlanders."
"Well, obviously, I kept myself pure for my beloved, but I could hardly help hearing the lewd stories told around the campfire. Storik once swore to me that dwarves like to-"
Tammith pivoted away from him to peer into the dark. "Something's happening," she said.
He looked where she was looking. At first he couldn't see anything. But he heard a muddled sound, and a moment later, the first ranks of what seemed to be a considerable number of folk tramped into the pool of amber glow cast by a hanging lantern. Most of the newcomers carried weapons, either proper ones or tools like axes and chisels that could serve the purpose. Many dangled sacks in their hands, or bore them slung across their shoulders. One fellow pushed a barrow full of bundles. The wheels squeaked and rumbled on the cobblestones.
There'd been a sentry posted at the far end of the street. He must have tried to turn these people back. Bareris wondered how badly the mob had hurt him.
He also wished he and Tammith were wearing armor. Although no one had specifically ordered them to quell unrest and protect the fleet, in an emergency, it was their duty even so.
"I'm going to try to turn them back without fighting," he said. "Don't hurt anyone unless you have to."
Tammith nodded. "My abilities aren't like yours. I can't tamper with so many minds at the same time. But I'll help as much as I'm able."
He crooned a charm that made him appear a shade handsomer and taller, more sympathetic and commanding, in the
eyes of anyone who beheld him. Then he smiled and ambled toward the mob as if they were all staunch friends. Tammith kept pace beside him.
"Good evening, Goodmen," he said, infusing his voice with the magic of influence. "What's going on?"
A big man at the front of the pack, a trowel clutched in one fist and both arms banded with tattooed rings, glared at him. "We're taking a ship. Or ships, if we can't all fit on one."
"Why?" Bareris asked.
"Because the blue fire is coming."
"No, it isn't, and if someone told you otherwise, he was simply repeating a baseless rumor. I'm not wearing my insignia at present, but I'm an officer of the Griffon Legion. I hear what the scouts and soothsayers discover, and I give you my word, nobody has seen any blue flame moving toward Bezantur."
"What about Szass Tam?" shrilled a voice rising from farther back in the throng. "Are you going to tell us he isn't coming?"
"No," Bareris said, "he probably is, but even he won't be able to get inside the city walls. No enemy could. You'll be far safer here than trying to sail to some foreign land. The same upheavals that shake the land are raising huge waves at sea. The depths are giving birth to strange new creatures."
"The nobles don't think it's safer to stay," said the man with the trowel. "Everybody knows they're getting ready to sail away and leave us 'lowly Rashemi' behind to die."
"Once again, I give you my word. They haven't made any such decision."
"We're done listening to you, legionnaire. We're going. If you want, you can come along. If not, you'd be wise to step aside."
Since the mason seemed to be a leader of sorts, Bareris targeted an enchantment of persuasion at him specifically. "I won't do that, because I'm trying to save your lives. The ships are well protected. Their crews are sleeping onboard, and the zulkirs have other troops and wizards stationed in the warehouses adjacent to the piers. If you proceed any farther, someone will spot you and sound the alarm. Then all those legionnaires and wizards will rise from their hammocks and bedrolls and slaughter you."
The big man took a deep breath. "Or we'll kill them."
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