Sipping her tea, Tazi added, "You mean, it's easier for you if they go about their business, none the wiser. You would do well to remember familiarity breeds contempt. Be careful, or you'll be hoist in your own petard one day."
The lich laughed, rich and throaty. "Thazienne," he told her, "you are a delight. Truly, a remarkable woman. Like a gemstone, there are many sides to you."
It was her turn to tip her head to the necromancer. As she carefully selected a slice of fruit and realized that she was famished, Tazi casually asked, "And how is Pyras Autorian?"
Szass Tarn smiled and replied, "He is doing very well under my ministrations. I believe that when I am done, no one will ever notice a difference."
Tazi grew thoughtful at what the lich said and what he didn't say. From his answer, she wasn't sure if he had healed the young tharchion as he had managed to heal her, or if he had used his skills at necromancy to raise him from the dead. She did recall, after all, that her crimson dagger had pierced him through the heart. If the act had been enough to drive the tanar'ri lord him from his body, what had it done to his actual flesh? She found she did not want to know the answer to that particular question.
She nibbled on a section of an orange and innocently inquired, "And Naglatha? Whatever became of her?"
Szass Tarn's black eyes grew stormy at the mention of the renegade Red Wizard. "Your former mistress managed to escape somehow during the excitement. But she cannot hide from me forever. I will collect my due from her, trust me on that.
"Though," he added almost as an afterthought, and Tazi could hear grudging admiration in his voice, "a woman that resourceful and cunning can be a valuable asset."
Tazi dabbed at her lips with a linen cloth and said, "Where can I change into something a bit more appropriate?"
"I find what you are wearing to be very pleasing," he said slowly, and Tazi could feel the heat rise in her cheeks in spite of herself. "However, if you feel you must, you will find your clothing laid out on the settee behind that screen there." He raised his hand to point to a delicately carved screen of ivory and obsidian.
"Excuse me," she told the necromancer, and he rose as she stood.
Tazi moved behind the screen and saw her familiar leathers. They had been meticulously repaired and smelled freshly oiled. There was not the slightest whiff of smoke to them. She let the silk shift fall to a puddle at her feet and slipped on her own clothing, still not used to the feel of her long hair brushing against her bare arms after so many years. As she strapped the new sword that Szass Tarn had left for her at her waist, she once again found herself impressed with his absolute confidence and surety that he could outfit a potential threat so well.
She stepped out from behind the screen and saw that the lich stood looking out the large windows. Tazi walked over to him and said, "I thank you for everything, but I must leave now."
Szass Tarn looked her over from head to toe. This time Tazi did not blush. "Would you consider staying for a while, Thazienne? There is still much I would like to talk to you about. After all," he remarked in an offhand way, "we have shared much over the last few days. I have seen things in you I find intriguing. And I see things in you," he added and reached out to capture a curl of her midnight-black hair, "that I see in myself. I would appreciate the opportunity to know you better."
Tazi involuntarily took a step back. She felt uneasy that the necromancer would say they shared any qualities at all. She broke away from his touch to walk over to the small breakfast table. There, she busied herself by collecting her dagger of crimson gold, sheathing it in her boot.
"Thank you for the offer, but I have to return home. There are some ghosts that I must lay to rest."
The lich watched her carefully. "It is inconvenient at times when the dead do not stay buried. But don't try to fool yourself, Thazienne. No one forces you to do anything ever. The choices, as well as the consequences, are always yours and yours alone.
"Perhaps," he added, "you might return another time. I can wait. For time is something I have in abundance."
Tazi stood tall and answered, "As long as slavery is present in this land, Zulkir, I doubt very much that I will return."
The lich looked disappointed to Tazi. "Then that is the true tragedy here today," he remarked sadly. "For I will most likely never see you again. As long as I exist, slavery will always be a way of life here in Thay. And I can promise you, I will be here for a very long time." And he gave her a grave look.
Tazi ran her hands over her person one last time to make sure she had all her belongings and strode over to the door. At the portal she turned and looked at the necromancer, who was, in turn, watching her.
"Perhaps I will find my way back here one day," she told him darkly. "And I will put a stop to your slavery once and for all."
Szass Tarn rose to the challenge. With a gentle smile on his lips, he replied, "My dearThazienne, you are just one woman, albeit a remarkable one, and one person cannot bring about change."
"Zulkir, turn around and take another look out that window," she directed him with deadly seriousness. "Take a long look at what just one person can do."
The lich turned to the window and observed the carnage and death before him. He wasn't displeased by what he saw. Instead, he was once again impressed by the will and the strength of the woman behind him. He vaguely entertained the notion that he might have finally found a match for himself, someone worthy of sharing eternity with.
He turned back toward Tazi. "While you may have-" he stopped short when he saw the room was empty. She had managed to slip away without his notice. A slow smile played on his full lips.
"Ah, Thazienne," he whispered to himself, "perhaps our paths will cross again sooner than you think."
¦(c)¦
Tazi left the Citadel and stepped out onto the cool lava flow. From where she stood on the Thaymount, she could see the Second Escarpment stretch out before her. To the east, she was able to make out the peaks of the Sunrise Mountains. Beyond them, she knew the Purple Plains and the Endless Wastes lay. And somewhere beyond sight was Sembia and her family home.
Tazi stood on the windswept hill, and her hair swirled around her like a living thing. She thought of the necromancer's words again about choices and consequences. She thought about Justikar and how he felt he had to assume his brother's place, though his sibling's dream had not been his. He did it for family and obligation.
She pulled the crimson gold dagger from her boot and balanced it, point down, on her finger. She remembered how the dwarf had told her the dagger would make a more fitting gift for her father as a symbol of what she had become than the raw metal alone. But did she really need to give him anything other than herself?
"Isn't the person I have become," she whispered to the wind, "the truest gift I can make to you, Father?"
On that bleak mount, Tazi realized she could do whatever she wanted. And she understood, as she saw the death around her, with that freedom there came the greatest of responsibilities. Tazi recognized that she did not need to return to Selgaunt, nor did she need to explore the mysteries of Faerun. It was her choice. She laughed and sheathed her dagger. She made up her mind and started down the path.
In a land renowned throughout the Realms for its heinous slavery, Thazienne Uskevren realized she was finally free.