Yet he knew that if Tammith were here, alive and uncorrupted by vampirism, that wasn't what she'd say. Knew too that Aoth and Mirror had been his friends for a hundred years, even when bitterness and undeath denied him the capacity to respond in kind. He pictured the young Bareris he'd conjured up to fight the vasuthant, regarding him with a kind of reproach in his eyes, and something tipped inside his mind.
He lowered his sword and stepped from between Szass Tam and the zulkirs to signal that the latter could do as they saw fit.
"Thank you for seeing reason," said the lich, and the remark jabbed Bareris like a taunt. "Now, this is the incantation to erase the sigil…"
As Szass Tam instructed the other archmages, Bareris fantasized that as soon as the crystal pyramid blinked out of existence, he'd rush forward and strike so quickly that neither the lich nor anyone else would have time to react. His limbs quivered, and he could virtually feel his legs sprinting, his arm swinging his sword.
He also prayed that everything the regent had said was a lie, just as he himself had maintained. That Szass Tam would leap from the Seat, laugh at their gullibility, and lash out at them, and they'd have no choice but to fight him after all.
But when the construct of solidified energy faded, Bareris didn't spring forward. And when Szass Tam rose, he didn't summon any wraiths or hurl blasts of shadow at his liberators.
He simply stretched and said, "Thank you. Shall we be on our way?"
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
19 Kythorn, The Year of the Dark Circle (1478 DR)
Jhesrhi looked at the several dozen assembled mages, most of them robed in scarlet, then glanced down at Khouryn.
"Ready?" asked the dwarf.
No, she thought. She was confident of her ability to cast spells, but leadership was a different matter. Most people didn't even enjoy her company, let alone look to her for guidance. True, she managed to direct her assistants in the Brotherhood, but there were only a couple of them, and they'd joined the company knowing and accepting that she was in charge. The Red Wizards weren't part of the same chain of command. They were strangers, and notoriously arrogant strangers at that.
She shifted her grip on her staff. "Yes."
Khouryn evidently didn't like something he detected in her expression or tone, for he frowned through his bushy mustache and beard. "They're used to taking orders from the zulkirs. Now, whether they realize it or not, they're looking for somebody else to order them around, and who better than you?"
"Someone dressed in red?"
"No, because while they have some experience of war, it isn't their trade but yours. Show them you believe that matters, and they will too, even if they don't like to admit it."
She took a breath. "All right."
He flashed her a grin. "Good! Then I'll leave you to it. I have to see to the folk who don't fling fire and frost around." By that, she knew, he meant that now that both Aoth and the zulkirs were gone, he intended to shuffle the battle lines. The least reliable or ably led of the archmages' troops would stand with seasoned sellswords to steady them if need be, and also stand in less critical positions. Fortunately, the past several tendays had given him time to assess which portions of the allied army were weak, and he'd done it just as automatically as he kept track of everything else on campaign.
His mail shirt rustling, he turned and tramped away. She walked toward the waiting wizards. "Sorry to keep you waiting," she said. "But Khouryn needed to speak to me."
"What I want to know," said a Red Wizard, "is why we need to speak to you." The dagger embroidered on his cloak indicated that he was one of Lauzoril's subordinates. "Do you think it's your place to command us?"
"Someone has to lead," she replied, "if we're to cast our spells to their best effect."
"But why you?" he demanded.
She gave them Khouryn's argument. "Because I spend the better part of every year at war, and our leader needs the wisdom that only comes from such experience."
A sharp-featured woman, the collar of her blood-colored cape bearing the chain-and-manacle patch that was one of Nevron's emblems, pushed to the front of the crowd. "Every Red Wizard learns how to fight," she said.
That set them all clamoring in agreement. Jhesrhi winced at the vehemence of their rejection.
It made her want to back down, especially since she had no particular desire to command them anyway. But she'd promised Khouryn, and even more important, despite herself, she suspected he was right: she likely was the best person for the job.
So she sought for a way to maintain her composure and inner calm, and as a means to that end, observed how very alike the Red Wizards were with their hairless heads, pasty Mulan faces, and voluminous scarlet garments flapping around on their lanky arms and legs. In fact, they reminded her of a flock of agitated flamingos.
Amused by the comparison, she let them squawk, and during the course of it, an idea came to her. She bowed her head and raised a hand as if in surrender, and, expecting words as submissive as her posture, the Red Wizards gradually fell silent.
She didn't disappoint them. "All right," she said. "I can't lead if you won't follow. But we all know someone must command. So who among you volunteers?"
Aoth had told her Red Wizards were ambitious, and as she'd hoped, nine of them spoke up and stepped forward as one. They kept right on talking at the same time too, louder and louder until they were shouting, and their supporters were yelling along with them.
This time, Jhesrhi wasn't the focus of the rancor, and so she had to resort to stronger measures to recapture everyone's attention. She tapped her toe, and the ground beneath her amplified that tiny bump into a jolt that sent the others staggering like vermilion insects crawling on a drumhead. A couple of wizards fell on their rumps.
"Sorry," she said, making no effort to sound sincere. "But maybe now you see the problem with one of you taking charge. None of you senior Red Wizards will allow one of your peers to claim the role. You're afraid he'll parlay it into some sort of permanent ascendancy. But with me, you don't have that problem. I'm not a member of your hierarchy or even a citizen of the Wizard's Reach. I'm just a sellsword, and when the zulkirs' contract with Captain Fezim expires, I'll vanish down the road."
"You know," said a man in the back of the crowd, "Nevron does seem to think well of her. I mean, to the extent that he thinks well of anyone."
"She's got power," said another wizard. "I've seen it before, and she just demonstrated it again. And we can't take all day arguing and politicking. We have to make a choice before Szass Tam's troops show up."
"That," said Jhesrhi, "is the most sensible thing anyone's said so far. So: let me be your leader for this one battle or at least until the zulkirs and Captain Fezim return."
The assembled mages stood silent for a moment. Then the one who'd spoken first glowered at her and said, "If that's the limit of your authority, then I can tolerate it."
"And I," said someone else. The rest either grumbled their assent or at least raised no further protest.
"Thank you for your trust," Jhesrhi said. "Now, we don't have a lot of time, so let's begin. As you all know, our army took a beating seizing the Dread Ring. The army of Anhaurz is fresh, and there are a lot of them. Still, we have one important advantage: we have four archmages on our side."
Her audience looked at her in puzzlement. The sharp-featured woman in service to Nevron said, "No, we don't. As I understand it, they've abandoned us to go fight Szass Tam himself in the high mountains."
Jhesrhi smiled. "Yes, but the soldiers from Anhaurz don't know that. Apparently their autharch has no qualms about facing the likes of Lallara and Samas Kul, but I doubt that everyone who follows him is equally happy about the prospect.