Beyond lay a damp stairway that led down into darkness.The lich cupped his hand and spoke a single word. A globe of light appeared inhis palm and illuminated the stairwell. Along the walls and on each step wereweathered sigils of various-sized triangles filled with swirling graypatterns-all symbols of Leira. The lich paused to appreciate them. He hadlittle regard for the goddess, but thought the sigils had been rendered bysomeone with considerable skill.
Most Red Wizards in Thay worshiped one or more maligndeities. At one time Szass Tam had, too-but the need to worship some power thatmight grant eternal life had faded away with the years and with the onset oflichdom. Szass Tam still considered himself respectful of some of the powers,such as Cyric. But not Leira.
Szass Tam was halfway down the steps when he felt a presenceapproaching. The minutes passed, and the undead zulkir's patience was finallyrewarded when a pearl-white phantasm with the face of a beautiful woman formedin front of him. The lich pondered its appearance and decided the thing wasnothing more than a hapless spirit tied to the temple.
"Trespasser,'' the specter whispered in a soft,feminine voice. "Begone from the sacred place of Leira, she who is most powerful.Begone from the Lady of the Mists's temple, the place we are sworn toprotect."
The lich stood his ground, eyeing the thing, and foran instant, it appeared the spirit was astonished he did not run.
"I will leave when I am ready," the lichsaid flatly. He kept his voice low so his quarry deeper in the complex wouldnot hear.
"You must go," the spirit repeated, itsvoice changing, becoming deeper and sultry. The visage was that of anotherwoman. "This is not a place for those who do not believe. You do notbelieve in our goddess. You wear no symbol of hers."
"I believe in myself," the lich repliedevenly. "I believe in power."
"But not in Leira."
"No. I have no respect for the Lady of theMists," the lich growled softly.
"Then your bones shall rot here," thespecter cursed in a new voice.
The lich stared at the creature. The undead now borethe image of a young man with a long nose, and the voice was strong andmasculine. Large ghostly hands reached out and thrust into Szass Tam's chest.The lich stood unmoving, unaffected by the spirit's attack.
"This cannot be! You should be dead!" thespirit shouted with the voice of an old woman. Indeed, the pearl-white form wascovered with wrinkles, and the transparent flesh sagged on her cheeks and jaw.
"I am already dead," the lich whispered inreply. "And you will bend to my will-whatever manner of undead youare."
Szass Tam's eyes once more became pinpoints of hotwhite light. They bore into the old woman's eyes and fixed the diaphanous beingin place.
"Who are you?" Szass Tam demanded."What are you?"
"We are Leira's," the old woman replied."We are the last of the priests who lived in this temple. When the cityfell to the army of Mulhorand, we died. But so strong was our faith in the Ladyof the Mists that our wills banded together in one form so we could serve Leiraforever."
The lich's lips curled upward slowly and he said,"It is your misfortune you stayed."
His pinpoint eyes glowed brighter, and he concentratedon the ghostly form before him. The spirit moaned in pain, the voice of a youngman joining the old woman's.
"No!" the spirit cried in a chorus ofvoices. "Do not hurt us! Do not send us from the temple!"
"To the Nine Hells I will send you-to join theother priests of the Patroness of Liars," Szass Tam threatened,"unless you serve me and cease your cacophonous whining."
"We serve only Leira," the spirit wailedeven more loudly.
"Now serve a better master."
The lich raised a fleshy finger and pointed it at thespecter's face. The visage of the young man had returned. A silver beam shotfrom the tip of Szass Tam's finger and struck the spirit's head, sending theapparition flying backward several feet. The beam pulsed wildly while thespirit convulsed in agony.
"Who do you serve?" the lich persisted.
"Leira," the creature groaned in chorus.
Again the lich struck the creature with a silver beam.The ghostly image wavered and began to spread, as if it was being stretched ona torturer's rack. The spirit's arms and legs lengthened to the corners of thestairwell, and it became as insubstantial as mist.
"Who do you serve?"
"We serve you," the spirit finally gasped inits myriad voices.
Szass Tam's eyes softened to a pale glow. He studiedthe spirit to make sure it was indeed under his control. The many minds hetouched berated him, but they swore their loyalty. Smugly satisfied, Szass Tamwilled his human eyes to return.
"Tell me, priests," the lich began."Were you this ineffectual in stopping the Red Wizards who came beforeme?"
"The ones below?" the spirit quipped.
The creature's face was that of a beautiful woman, theone the thing had displayed when Szass Tam first encountered it.
"Yes," replied the lich. "The onesbelow."
"They believe," the ghostly image stated."They wear the holy symbol of Leira upon their shiny heads. All believersare welcome in this temple. All believers-and you."
"You let them pass freely because they tattooedsymbols of Leira on their heads?" the lich queried. "You believedthey worshiped your goddess because of a little paint?"
"Yes," the ghostly image answered."Leira's temple is for Leira's own."
The lich looked past the creature and peered down thestairs.
"You will come with me. You will show me thetraps that litter the path before us. And you will show me the relic Iseek."
Szass Tam resumed his course down the stairway, thespecter at his side pointing out weathered mosaics of its goddess, expoundingon the greatness of Leira, and gesturing toward magical wards on every step.The lich passed by the broken bodies of long-dead trespassers as he moved fromone chamber to the next. He was so intent on finding the relic that he nearlypassed over the only freshly killed corpse. The specter pointed it out to him.The body of a red-robed man, no older than twenty, lay crumpled amid chunks ofstone. The man, who wore the painted symbol of Leira on his head, sprawled withhis limbs at odd angles. His eyes were wide with terror, and a thin line ofblood still trickled from his mouth.
"He was with the other wizards," the spectersaid in an old man's voice. "Pity he died so young. Though he wore thesymbol of the Lady of the Mists and I let him pass, the guardian looked intohis heart. His heart betrayed him as an unbeliever. The guardian struck himdown."
"Guardian?"
"The Lady of the Mists's eternal servant,"the specter replied. "The guardian waits in the chamber beyond."
The lich peered into the black distance and startedforward. The spirit of Leira's priests dutifully followed on his heels.
"Kill the thing!" Szass Tam heard a deepmale voice cry.
The lich quickened his pace and entered a massivecavern lighted by luminous moss. He stopped and stared at the cavern's threeoccupants: Frodyne, a Red Wizard he didn't recognize, and a monstrousconstruct.
"What treachery is this?" the lich's voiceboomed.
"Master!" Frodyne squealed.
She was dressed in a soiled and torn red robe, and thetriangle she had painted on her scalp was smeared with sweat. Her normally softfeatures were set in grim determination as she called for her companion tojoin the fight. The man stayed behind her, ignoring her coarse words, andstared at the great thing before them. Frodyne spread her fingers wide andunleashed a magical bolt of fire at the monstrosity.