"Stop avoiding me," Falagh ordered Lavant, nearly shouting as he followed the Grand Syndar. "I asked you a question!"
The high priest moved rapidly for such a hefty man, and the other three with him had to scurry to keep up. He neither spoke nor turned back toward Falagh. What had surprised Bartimus the most, however, was the strange smile Lavant had adopted once he heard the news from Grozier and Falagh.
Reth was swarming with zombies.
"You knew this was going to happen," Grozier accused in the direction of Lavant's elbow. "You've been waiting for it. Why?"
Finally, Lavant stopped and turned to face his pursuers. "Gentlemen, please. The activities taking place in Reth at this very moment have nothing whatsoever to do with our venture. It may turn out to be an unforeseen complication, but I do not think it will limit our profits in any way. Now, you must excuse me. I need to speak with Lord Wianar immediately. There is much to do." And with that, the ample man turned and hurried down the passage, leaving Falagh and Grozier staring after him in bewilderment.
"This isn't over!" Falagh called after Lavant, drawing a few uncomfortable looks from nearby guests. "House Mestel will have its due!"
Lavant ignored the man.
"Tar and trollops!" Falagh cursed, smacking a fist into his other palm. "He's practically gloating!"
"I don't understand," Grozier said, pacing. "Why would he want Reth to burn? You saw the look on his face. He's positively gleeful! It's as though he wasn't just expecting it, but actually planning-" Bartimus's employer stopped in mid-sentence, frozen in place, his jaw hanging open. "He planned it," the man finished in hushed tones. "He's been waiting for it because he planned it."
Falagh gave Grozier a measured look. "I think you may be right," the Mestel scion said. "But your first question remains. Why would he want such a thing?" Then, as if he were realizing for the very first time that they were not alone, Falagh glanced around. "We can't discuss this any further in here," he announced, turning to Grozier as he gestured all about. "We need to go somewhere more private. Bartimus, open one of your doorways and take us back to House Pharaboldi."
The wizard nodded and started to comply, but Grozier grabbed his arm and held it. "Now wait a minute, Mestel," Talricci said, waggling a finger at Falagh. "Bartimus works for me, not you. I tell him when and where to take us."
Falagh threw his hands in the air in exasperation. "Don't be ridiculous," he said. "It doesn't matter who-" Then he stopped and sighed. "Very well," he said with mocking patience. "Please instruct your wizard to whisk us somewhere more secure so that we might discuss this further in private. I would suggest the sitting room at the Pharaboldi estate, but it is entirely your call."
Grozier nodded. "I think that's a fine idea," he said, then turned and nodded to Bartimus as he released the wizard's arm. Though his employer didn't notice it, Bartimus saw Falagh glower and shake his head.
For the briefest of moments, Bartimus contemplated just whisking himself back to his own chambers, leaving the other two men behind to sort their conflict without him. He did not much care for their company when they bickered, which was happening more and more frequently. Then he dismissed the thought and conjured the magical doorway, concentrating to anchor the opposite end in the sitting room, as Grozier-and Falagh-had instructed.
One by one, the three men stepped through.
Bartimus sought his favorite corner and waited to be of some use. Grozier began to pace and Falagh sent a servant scurrying for glasses and a decanter of something to drink.
"Make it something strong," the man ordered, then sat down on one of several sofas to wait. "Unbelievable," he muttered, and Bartimus wasn't certain whether he was speaking about Grozier's behavior or Lavant's.
"All right," Grozier began, oblivious to Falagh's continued disapproval. "Let's work through this and figure out what that fat toad is up to." He began ticking points off one at a time on his fingers. "First, he puts together a business deal between my House, the Pharaboldis, and the Matrells."
Falagh grimaced but nodded. "A reasonable, if ambitious, effort. Lots of investment up front, very little return early on. Something that few other Houses in Arrabar would agree to, given the risks and outlay of coin." He shook his head. "Looking at it from that perspective, it begins to sound like a real confidence job. Notice that the temple has nothing invested in the venture, Grozier."
"Right," Grozier answered. "The temple's gains would be through favorable contracts. We need an army, the temple can supply one. I always assumed that he was just generating business for the glory of Waukeen."
"Perhaps," Falagh said, stroking his moustache as he thought. "Heavy skirmishing was a key part of the plan, that's for certain."
At that moment, the servant returned bearing a tray with crystal ware and a decanter with a fiery red liquid inside. Bartimus noted that another figure followed the servant. It was Lobra. She crossed to a chair in a corner of the room and sat down, ignoring Falagh's brief frown as he stared at her.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, sounding somewhat put out. "I thought you were tormenting the Matrell girl."
"I got bored," was all she would say in response. "My 'brother' is still with her, though," she added, adopting a rather unpleasant smile.
Falagh grunted and turned back to the discussion. "So, why did Lavant's plan hinge on skirmishes to drive up the cost of lumber?" he asked, stroking his moustache again. He stood up as a revelation seemed to strike him. "Not just a little skirmishing, but out and out war," he said. "Lavant wanted to see full-scale war in the region. The lumber scheme was just an excuse to stir up hardship in the area. We improve lumber prices by controlling supply militarily. And if it gets out of hand, so what? The temple benefits regardless. He played us perfectly," Mestel snarled.
Grozier shook his head, seeming uncertain. "Why go to all that trouble just to generate conflict? There's enough war in all of Faerun to keep the temple armies steadily employed without our help."
Falagh shrugged. "Maybe to justify it to the Waukeenar. Their motive is profit, not war. It probably wouldn't set well with the rest of the clergy to start a war for war's sake alone. So he fabricated our ill-fated lumber empire to cover it all up."
Grozier nodded, looking grave. "But that just seems to come full circle without accomplishing anything. And it doesn't explain the zombies."
Falagh shrugged again. "What difference does it make? We gave him what he wanted, and now we're left holding the empty coin purse while he feeds the flames of war. Nine Hells, maybe he needed the undead to underscore just how valuable a mercenary army of priests would be, where other forces fall short."
"But they had to come from somewhere else, right?" Grozier said, his expression full of doubt. "None of the plans we developed involved necromancy. If he was behind the zombies, then he had to get someone else involved, someone we don't know about."
Bartimus realized the answer was on the tip of his tongue, so he spoke it aloud before anyone else did. "Lord Wianar."