Apparently, everyone else was essentially all right. Jet disdained to mention the bumps and scratches he d sustained while plunging through the branches.
So what s our situation? asked Aoth.
Your trick failed, said Jet. And the rest of us had to clean up the mess. As usual.
Aoth smiled a crooked smile. And don t think I don t appreciate it, he said. But the question is, why did the trick fail? What sort or rebel or marauder spurns a potential ally out of hand when he s got a powerful enemy to fight?
All Rashemi hate Thayans, Vandar said. Looking drained and shaky with his fury subsided, he tugged a stopper from a water bottle.
Aoth shook his head. If it was a werewolf that had attacked me, or even an undead durthan, that might explain it, he said. But do the fey care about the grudges that divide one group of humans from another?
It could be that the cyclops recognized you, Cera said. Because you have a reputation even this far north, or because the enemy has spies in Immilmar.
Maybe, said Aoth, shrugging. Bits of snow that had caught in the links of his mail fell out.
We don t have to speculate, Jhesrhi said.
Choschax is alive. Wake him up, and he can tell us.
Good idea, said Aoth.
Everyone gathered around the cyclops. Aoth took a look at the hulking creature, satisfying himself that he was still unconscious, then used the point of his spear to pry the axe out of his hand and flip it beyond his reach. Next he slipped Choschax s curved dagger from its sheath and poised the spear an inch above his eye.
Now you can heal him enough to rouse him, he said to Cera. He doesn t need to feel well and strong. In fact, I d rather he didn t.
Amaunator will do as he sees fit, Cera replied with a hint of reproof. But when she stooped and worked the same magic on the cyclops that she had worked on Aoth, it was in a brusquer and more perfunctory fashion. The burns on the side of Choschax s face scarred over like he d sustained them months before, and she backed away from him.
The fey s eye opened. He gasped and froze.
Don t do anything stupid, said Aoth.
I m squeamish about sticking a spear in a captive s eye. But not so squeamish that I won t do it.
Useless curs, Choschax growled.
Don t be too hard on them, Aoth replied.
Jhes there is an able wizard, and anyway, they ve already paid with their lives for not being able to sniff us out. Your guards, too, I m afraid. There s nobody left to help you if things get nasty.
What is it you want? the cyclops asked.
Information, said Aoth. Why did you respond to an offer of help by trying to take me prisoner?
Choschax hesitated. I do want to take you to speak to those above me, he said. But no one is allowed to see the way to our stronghold.
And it didn t occur to you to offer me a blindfold? Aoth asked. Try again.
The wolves, Choschax said. You stole their human lives away from them. They needed revenge.
The wolves weren t in charge, Aoth replied. You were. Even that one female gave in to what you wanted in the end. Tell the truth, or lose the eye.
I can t tell you! the cyclops said.
I gave my oath.
Aoth set the spearhead shining with blue phosphorescence. I promise you, no healing power will grow it back, he said.
Not with my magic poisoning the wound. So, how do the blind and the crippled fare among your kind? Will the other cyclopes care for you lovingly? I doubt it. But since your loyalty is absolute
Don t! Choschax said.
Then tell, replied Aoth.
The one-eyed giant swallowed. I can only say what I know, he said. I m not one of the lords who first struck bargains with the durthans, nor one who conferred with them when they returned. I m just the leader of a war band. My mistress gives me orders without explaining the reasons why.
What orders? asked Aoth.
To keep our endeavors a secret from all living humans, especially those loyal to the hathrans and the Iron Lord, of course, Choschax said. But also especially from Thayans.
Aoth frowned. You re sure she said that specific thing? he asked. Even though the odds of running into a Thayan this far north of the border were remote?
Yes, the cyclops said.
Why? What exactly was she worried about?
I just told you, I don t know.
How did the undead witches and the werewolves travel south from the Erech Forest without being spotted?
I don t know.
How is it that you dark fey and durthans expect to win this time around?
I don t know.
Aoth made a spitting sound. You d better know something more than what you ve said already, he said.
Otherwise, enjoy the sight of my face, because it s the last
It s not durthans! Choschax said.
What?
I mean, it is, but they re just one part of something bigger. It s not live durthans bringing back the dead ones, because there aren t any. At the end of the last war, the hathrans really did wipe them out.
Then who s doing it?
I don t know. But they re the instigators of all this. The planners. And they must be the ones who are leery of Thay.
Aoth frowned. This mistress of yours. Does she know more than you? he asked.
I suppose she must, replied the cyclops.
Then we ll need you to show us where she lives.
FIVE
Dai Shan looked at the Iron Lord and saw a creature scarcely better than a wild orc squatting in a cave. The dimmest apprentice in a Shou merchant household had more subtlety and sophistication than such a puppet ruler ensconced in a cold, stark little chamber adjacent to his equally graceless throne room.
Precisely because he himself possessed the qualities that Mangan Uruk conspicuously lacked, Dai Shan wasn t worried that his sense of superiority showed in his face, or that his deep bow conveyed any sense of irony. Nonetheless, the Rashemi glowered at him.
You wanted a private meeting, Mangan said.
Tell me why. Have you learned something about the undead?
Alas, no, Dai Shan replied. My people made an honest effort, but Highness, have you ever found yourself in the disconcerting situation of having to admit that a fool was right?
Not that I recall, Mangan said, gesturing for Dai Shan to sit down on the other side of the table.
Dai Shan pulled back a chair. Thank you, noble prince, he said. In this case, Folcoerr Dulsaer is the fool in question a doltish, arrogant representative of a doltish, arrogant people. Still, buffoon though he is, he s right about one thing. Theskian traders have no hope of unraveling a mystery involving the undead, necromancy, and the like.
Mangan grunted. I saw how it got dark when you used your magic, he said. I thought maybe you knew at least a little necromancy.
Dai Shan felt a twinge of surprise. Perhaps the Iron Lord was a bit less dim than he seemed.
I m afraid not, the merchant said.
And, if I may return to my point: the fact of the matter is that no group of outlanders be they Shou, Aglarondan, Halruaan, or Thayan is likely to solve the current problem for you. We simply know too little about Rashemen. We don t comprehend its history and traditions.
Yhelbruna says differently, Mangan said.
Highness, I mean no disrespect to the hathrans when I suggest that prophecy provides uncertain guidance to practical men, the Shou replied. In my experience, it s better to act on the basis of common sense, and then trust that afterward, no matter how things work out, the seer will provide a tortured interpretation of the original prediction to demonstrate that it all came true after all.
For a moment, Mangan s lips quirked into a smile. It was the revelation Dai Shan had been watching for: a sign that at least once in a while and to some degree, the Iron Lord chafed at taking orders from the Wychlaran.