Undead

"They will," Dmitra said, trying her best to sound certain of it. "The question is, what shall we do in the meantime?"

"Make peace," Lauzoril said.

"No!" someone exclaimed. Turning, Dmitra saw that it was Bareris Anskuld. She wondered briefly why he'd remained on the other end of the room from Aoth. They generally sat together if they both attended a council, and it seemed odd that he wouldn't be at his comrade's side in the moment of his misfortune.

Prim and clerkish though he was, Lauzoril was also a zulkir, and unaccustomed to being interrupted by his inferiors. He gave Bareris a flinty stare. "Another such outburst and I'll feed you to your own damn griffons."

With a visible effort, Bareris clamped down on his emotions. "Master, I apologize."

"As is proper," Lallara said. "But I might have produced an outburst myself, if you hadn't beaten me to it."

"I hate Szass Tam as much as any of you," Lauzoril said. "But the truth is, we've all been fighting for ten years, with neither side able to gain and keep the upper hand. As a result, Thay was on its way to ruin even before the blue fires came. Now the realm truly stands on the verge of annihilation. All of us who possess true power should work together to salvage what we can. Otherwise, there may be nothing left for anyone to rule."

"Are you talking about reestablishing the council as it once was?" Zola Sethrakt asked, her voice cracking. She was a youthful-looking woman, comely in an affected, angular sort of way, who never went anywhere without a profusion of bone and jet ornaments swinging from her neck and sliding on her arms. As a result, she could scarcely breathe without clattering. "I'm the zulkir of Necromancy now!"

"Rest assured," Lauzoril said, "you will always enjoy a place of high honor."

"Every order has the right to elect its own zulkir, and mine chose me!" Zola screeched.

"The dregs of your order elected you," Lallara snapped, "after the lich led all the competent necromancers into the north. So I suggest you pay careful heed to whatever your seniors on the council advise, and graciously accept any decision this body may happen to reach. Otherwise, if we do invite Szass Tam back, and he resents you spending the last ten years in his chair, you can contend with his displeasure without any support from the rest of us."

Nevron scowled. It made his face almost as forbidding as the tattooed demonic visages visible on his neck and the backs of his hands. "Then you agree with Lauzoril?"

"No," Lallara said, "at least, not yet. But I concede that for once, his idea is worth discussing."

"So do I," Samas said.

"I would, too," Dmitra said, "if-"

"If you didn't know Szass Tam better than the rest of us," Lallara said. "By all the fiends in all the Hells, will we ever have a conversation without you harping on that same observation?"

"I apologize if it's become tiresome," Dmitra said, "but I repeat it because it's both pertinent and true. I don't claim I truly understand Szass Tam. None of us do. But I have some sense of the way his thoughts run, and I assure you, it's a waste of time even to consider making peace. Having begun this war, he'll see it through to the end, no matter the cost. If he indicated otherwise, it would be a ruse."

"We could play that game, too," Samas said. "Pretend we believe he desires peace, exploit his talents to help manage the current crisis, then turn on him later."

"Remember how this all started," Nevron said. "The assassinations and other maneuvers that nearly won him his regency without even needing to fight a war, and then tell me you're confident you could play as cleverly. I'm not sure I could. I'd rather have the bastard as my open enemy raising armies against me in the north than give him free run of the south."

"Well said, Your Omnipotence," Iphegor said. "The Lord of Flames wants us to fight, and cauterize the vileness that is Szass Tam from the face of Faerыn."

Dimon made a sour face. "As I've already explained, His Omniscience is mistaken if he truly believes that his deity, who is, to speak frankly, merely the prince of the fire elemental, has any sort of special role or significance in the current situation. But though his premises are faulty, his conclusion is valid. Speaking as a hierophant of the Black Hand, I too advise relentless aggression until we lay our enemy low, for such is the creed of Bane. It's how men achieve glory in this life and the one that follows."

"It's how Red Wizards commonly conduct themselves, also," Dmitra said, "and it's an approach that's served me well. So I oppose the idea of sending any sort of emissary to Szass Tam."

Samas heaved a sigh. "I suppose I do, too. He'd probably just change our envoys into ghosts and zombies and add them to his legions."

One by one, the remaining zulkirs rejected the notion of suing for peace. Zola looked relieved when it became clear how the informal vote was leaning.

At the end of it all, Lauzoril pursed his pale, thin lips. "So be it, then. Perhaps it was a bad idea. But surely we all agree that, even if we're resolved to remain at war, we can't prosecute it aggressively at the moment. According to Goodman Springhill's spies, Szass Tam has retreated north with the greater part of his army, and we should retire to our own strongholds, to rebuild our strength and determine how to overcome the current impediment to our spellcasting."

Bareris lifted his hand. "If Your Omnipotence has finished, may I speak to that point?"

"You're here to offer your opinion," Dmitra said, "so long as you do it courteously."

"Thank you, Mistress," said the bard. "I'm well aware that I lack the wisdom of a zulkir, a tharchion, or a high priest. I'm just a junior officer. But I have learned a little about war during my years of service, and it seems to me that now is the perfect time to launch a new campaign against Szass Tam."

Lauzoril shook his head. "How can that be, when our forces are crippled?"

"Because, Master, such things are relative, and the lich is more crippled. For the moment, wizardry has lost a measure of its power. That means, in the battles to come, men-at-arms and priestly magic will play a decisive role, and who has more of both? You do-you zulkirs who control the populous south and the sea trade that enables you to hire sellswords from abroad. Whereas the majority of Szass Tam's troops are undead, constrained to serve through sorcery, and when the blue fires came, he lost the use of a good many of them."

Malark nodded. "My agents confirm it."

"So I respectfully suggest you press your advantage," Bareris said, "before Szass Tam figures out how to neutralize it."

Nevron grunted. "I see the sense in what you recommend, but the world is in turmoil. I doubt we understand a tenth part of what's happening. We certainly don't know how to extinguish or turn back the blue fires. Do you think an army can march and fight under such conditions?"

"Yes," Bareris said, "and why shouldn't it try? What do you have to lose? The blue fire is no more likely to consume a legion on the march than one hiding in its barracks. It can spring up anywhere, with no warning."

Malark fingered the birthmark on his chin. "The disruptions have damaged my network of spotters and scouts. But some of my agents are still on the job, and even with impaired magic, I'm optimistic that they can relay information quickly enough for it to be of use. If a wave of blue flame is flowing across the countryside, perhaps I can warn an army in the field in time for it to get out of the way."

"That's encouraging," Dmitra said. "Having heard the advice of our tharchions and their subordinates, I now believe we ought to fight the northerners as aggressively as we can. What do the rest of you think?"

Samas shook his head. It made his jowls and chins wobble. "I don't know…"

Lallara sneered. "No one is requiring you to go yourself."

The fat man seemed to swell like a toad and his blotchy face bloomed even redder. "Are you questioning my courage? I fought at the Keep of Sorrows, the same as you!"