"Yes, you did," Dmitra said, "and none of us doubts the bravery or loyalty of any of the zulkirs." It was, of course, a preposterous statement, at least with regard to their alleged fidelity, but it might serve to steer the discussion back into productive channels. "I understand your misgivings. Truth be told, I share them. But I also know we're fighting for our lives against a powerful, brilliant adversary, and we must take advantage of every opportunity."
Samas snorted. "I seem to remember you saying much the same thing before we marched a critical portion of our strength into Szass Tam's trap. But all right. Let's see if we can finally bring this stupid war to an end."
One by one, the other zulkirs concurred. "So-specifically, what will be our strategy?" Lauzoril asked. "Do we take back the Keep of Sorrows?"
The silver stud in her nostril gleaming in the lamplight, Nymia Focar cleared her throat. "Master, that wouldn't be my advice. Reclaiming the fortress would require a lengthy siege, if it can be done at all, and we want to accomplish something quickly, before Szass Tam regains the full measure of his arcane powers."
"What would that something be?" Nevron asked. "Is it time to assault High Thay itself?"
Dimon shook his head. "No, Your Omnipotence, I wouldn't recommend that, either. It would be even more difficult and take longer than getting back into the keep. So my advice is to ignore the fortress but reclaim the rest of Lapendrar. It should be easy enough with Hezass Nymar and his legions dead. Next, retake your lost territories in northern Eltabbar, and conquer as much of Delhumide as you can. Once you do that, you'll have the Thaymount surrounded, cut off from the Keep of Sorrows and Surthay and Gauros as well."
"I like that," Dmitra remarked. Then, from the corner of her eye, she glimpsed an unfamiliar figure standing just inside the door. Startled, she jerked around in that direction.
Bareris looked where everyone else was looking, then cried out in astonishment.
Tammith had somehow slipped past a locked door without an assembly of the greatest wizards in the world noticing until she was fully inside. Tammith, clad in the somber mail and trappings of a champion or captain of Szass Tam's host, her pretty face, though dark in life, now whiter than white in contrast to all that black. Tammith, whom he'd destroyed ten years ago, or so he'd always believed.
Iphegor Nath jumped up from his chair, overturning it to bang against the floor. He raised his hand and scarlet flame burst from it.
Bareris leaped up, too, without knowing what he intended, or why.
Tammith dropped to her knees. "I come as a peaceful supplicant!"
That was enough to persuade Iphegor to hesitate. He had plenty of reason to despise and distrust the undead, but not quite enough to lash out when one humbled herself before him. Even now, such creatures were considered to have their legitimate place in the proper Thayan order of things. Most of the vampires and dread warriors in the realm served Szass Tam, but thanks to the labors of Zola Sethrakt and her subordinates, the lords of the south commanded some as well.
"It appears," said Dmitra Flass, "that everyone can safely be seated." She fixed her gaze on Tammith. "I see what you are, blood-drinker. But who are you?"
"My name is Tammith Iltazyarra. Until Szass Tam and his lieutenants lost control of me and I deserted, I commanded the Silent Company. Perhaps you've heard of it."
Bareris ached to hear her speak. Her voice was sweet and familiar, yet cold and flat, a travesty of the one he remembered.
"Yes," Dmitra said. "You've given us a good deal of trouble over the years."
"Then perhaps," Tammith said, "I can atone for it now. I want revenge on Szass Tam for forcing me to serve him, and the only way I'll get it is to fight for the council."
"That sounds plausible," Lallara said. "But then, if the lich sent an impostor to mislead us and spy on us, I imagine he would give her a persuasive tale to tell."
"Your Omnipotence," said Bareris, "I know Tammi… Captain Iltazyarra." Although if she still remembered him, at least with any vestige of emotion, no one could have known from her demeanor. "I mean, I did when she was alive, and I can vouch that she didn't accept her transformation or induction into Szass Tam's army willingly."
"That's fine," said Samas Kul, "but how do we know she isn't acting under coercion now? The blue fire didn't free all of the lich's puppets."
"Zola Sethrakt is the zulkir of Necromancy," Lauzoril said, "and I'm the realm's greatest enchanter. Even with our abilities diminished, we should be able to determine whether her spirit is free or not."
"But what," asked Iphegor Nath, "if she came to embrace her condition and her station during her years of service to the lich? It's plain from her stature and features that she was born Rashemi. Szass Tam gave her immortality, supernatural abilities, and high rank, and by some accounts, drinking blood is a carnal pleasure surpassing any the living can imagine. Perhaps she eventually decided she didn't have it so bad."
"Your Omniscience," Tammith gritted, "if you believe that, then, for all your wisdom, you comprehend very little of what it truly means to have your life stripped away from you, with only thirst and servitude left in its place."
"If Szass Tam doesn't have her spirit chained up tight," Zola said, "then it doesn't matter what she truly feels. I can bind her to serve me."
Tammith rose so swiftly that the eye could scarcely track the motion. "No, Mistress. With all respect, I'll never submit to another such shackle. If you try to impose it, you'll have to destroy me."
And me, Bareris realized. He'd stand with her, crazy and suicidal though it would be.
"I hope you realize," Dmitra said, "that even with our magic impaired, we can destroy you. If we all exert our powers against you, you won't last an instant."
"I understand," Tammith said. "But then you'll forfeit the chance to strike a crippling blow against your real enemy."
"Meaning what?" Nevron asked.
"I heard you discussing strategy before I sneaked in." Tammith smiled. "Vampires have keen ears. Your plan is good, but it could be better. Szass Tam lost many of his warriors to the blue fire. Now Xingax will labor to create replacements. But if we attack his manufactory, we can prevent it, and keep the northern armies weak."
"I take it," Dmitra said, "that you know where Xingax currently has his lair, and how we can get at it?"
Tammith inclined her head.
Bareris positioned himself beside a pale marble statue of a robed wizard and struck up a song about a starfish that decided it belonged in the sky. The ballad detailed its comical misadventures as it doggedly tried to clamber up into the heavens and take its place among the other luminaries. The sculpted wizard seemed to frown as if he disapproved of levity.
Bareris disapproved of it, too, or at least had long ago abandoned the habit, and the merry lyrics and rollicking tune felt strange coming out of his mouth. In fact, for some reason, they hurt.
But Tammith had always laughed at the song when the two of them were young, and at length, huge bats swooped out of the darkness. Bareris recoiled a step in spite of himself.
The bats swirled and melted together to become a woman. She'd removed her armor and wore a mannish leather jerkin and breeches. He wondered if she ever opted for skirts anymore.
"Of all the songs you ever wrote," she said, "I always liked that one the best."
He swallowed. "After the council of war, you just wandered off with Zola Sethrakt. You didn't even speak to me."
"And so you thought to flush me out with a tune. Here I am. What do you want?"
"For one thing, to say I'm sorry for what I did in the Keep of Thazar."
"I'm sorry it didn't take."