sundown.
So you want to fight the undead at night? asked Zyl. Aoth looked down to find the black hare crouching near his foot.
The Stag King shrugged. It doesn t matter, he said, It will be dark inside the keep and in the vaults underneath no matter when we venture in.
That s true, said Aoth. And we should expect it s going to get nasty. The enemy knows the ground, and we don t. Most of them will be able to see better than most of us can. They ll try to split us up and lure us into traps. Which means that if we lose our heads, either to panic or to bloodlust, and go rushing off into the dark, we re done for. Vandar, can you control your lodge brothers?
Even when the fury takes us, the Rashemi answered, we don t lose all our sense. He surprised Aoth by smiling a wry little smile. Not all of us, not every time. We ll divide up into war bands, each led by a brother far advanced in the mysteries a man who can ride the anger instead of letting it ride him. The others will move when he moves and stop when he stops.
Good, Aoth said as he turned to the Stag King.
And you can manage your warriors? I confess, I don t understand much about them, but I don t imagine they ve spent much time underground.
They ll be all right, the spirit replied.
Anyway, they re my concern, not yours.
Aoth took a breath of the smoky air. I m not trying to set myself about you, Highness, he said. Or you, Vandar. But someone has to think about the overall tactical picture. And maybe a captain who s taken more fortresses and fought more undead than he can remember, and who doesn t have the management of one particular part of our army to preoccupy him, is a good choice for the job.
The Stag King waved a dismissive hand. All right, human, he said. Perhaps you have a point. I promise, I ll at least listen to whatever you recommend.
Vandar nodded curtly. So will I, he said.
Finally! thought Aoth.
Jet laughed his screeching laugh inside his master s head. They just want someone to blame if it all goes wrong.
Uramar noted how the mushy flesh of the little demonic half-corpse oozed and dripped in Falconer s grip. The skull lord himself looked somewhat the worse for wear. He still had his gauntlet, but the same skirmish that had charred bits of his bones black had cost him the rest of his gear, and he d thrown on a brigandine that hung like a sack on his skeletal frame.
The biggest change was the loss of one of his skulls. A pair of Uramar s broken selves two of the more erudite and less sane ones were debating whether the Nar could somehow procure another or must manage with only two forevermore.
For a moment their voices waxed painfully loud. Uramar resisted the impulse to grit his teeth and pound at his temples. His command had just lost a fight, and the warrior parts of him understood that at such a juncture, his officers mustn t see him acting crazy or distressed. It would be bad for morale.
Suddenly, the half-corpse spoke, distracting him from his discomfort. I humbly apologize for making you wait, noblest of wizards. But I m sure that you comprehend that, surrounded as I am by our mutual enemies, I can t always answer instantly.
According to Falconer, the little half-demon was relaying the words of one Dai Shan, a merchant adventurer out of Thesk. The mortal s accent was strange to Uramar, but his light baritone voice conveyed intelligence and self-assurance.
We re under siege here, Falconer snapped.
Why didn t you warn me that the Griffon Lodge and their allies were coming?
Would that I could have, Dai Shan said, but to my eternal regret, I didn t know. I m sure such a sagacious leader as youself can appreciate that, even though I gather intelligence as assiduously as I can, I m not privy to everybody s plans. Are you in serious difficulty?
I ve had better days, the Nar replied.
Is there anything you can do to help us?
Dai Shan hesitated, or perhaps it simply took a moment for the magic to carry his words across the intervening distance. Perhaps, august magus, perhaps, he said. As it happens
With a soft slurping sound, the remaining flesh of the half-corpse liquefied all at once. It slipped off the little demon s bones and spilled to the floor in a splash of filth. A couple of Uramar s voices shrieked with laughter. A more squeamish soul wanted to puke, and its nausea churned his stomach.
I take it that s the end of the conversation? Nyevarra asked. The vampire witch seemed vibrant with impatience. Uramar suspected it was less because her allies had lost the first fight than because the sunlight had kept her from participating and drinking the blood of those who fell victim to her powers.
Yes, Falconer said. He dropped the imp s bones into the puddle of rot at his feet.
It s just as well, said Pevkalondra, sneering. A lustrous, eyeball-sized pearl was set in the left orbit of her shriveled face; and tiny silver scorpions crawled like lice in the folds of her faded blue velvet robe. Since there were only a handful of Raumvirans in the fortress, she arguably didn t enjoy quite the same status as Falconer and Nyevarra and needn t have been included in a council of war. But some of Uramar s shrewder voices had maintained it was politic to summon her to the keep s shadowy, ruinous great hall along with the other two.
Falconer pivoted to fix the ghoul with his double stare. And why is that? he asked.
Because anyone could hear the treachery in that oh-so-unctuous voice, Pevkalondra said. I would have thought even a Nar would notice. But perhaps
Don t start! Uramar said. Please. We re all brothers and sisters now, united by the creed of Lod. And even if we weren t, this would hardly be the time to renew old quarrels among ourselves.
I realized the Shou probably couldn t help us, Falconer said through gritted teeth. But it did no harm to communicate with him, and there s no reason to think he s playing us false. He said he chiseled the marks in the tombs under the Iron Lord s castle, and if so
Uramar raised his hand with its crooked, mismatched fingers, ridged scars, and piebald skin. You don t have to justify yourself, he said. I thought it was worth talking to him myself. Now we need to consider the question he asked us. Are we in serious difficulty?
Nyevarra made a spitting sound. Of course not! she said. I m not the only durthan who couldn t venture outside into the daylight. In the tunnels, we can turn the fight around.
I agree, Falconer said. My folk have demons we haven t used yet.
Pevkalondra nodded. And mine, constructs, she added.
Uramar smiled. Good, he replied. I knew I could count on your fighting spirit. Now, it seems to me that the best way to crush the intruders is to target their spellcasters. They only have a few, and their side can t win without them.
Again, I agree, Falconer said. And no one needs to coax me to focus my efforts on Fezim and the sunlady. I have a score to settle.
While I, Nyevarra purred, would take considerable satisfaction in bringing the Stag King low. What sort of dark fey sides with hathrans?
Then we have our strategy, Uramar said. Except that there s one more point to consider. What if, in spite of everything, the enemy gains the upper hand again?
Pevkalondra snorted. I plan for victory, not defeat, she said.
One of Uramar s more glib voices advised him how to answer. But with all respect, lady, he said, it s one of the strengths of the Eminence that we plan for every contingency. We figure out how to make even defeat serve our purposes. That s why no one can stop us from establishing our empire.
How nice, Falconer said. But what s the contingency plan now?
Simply this, Uramar said. If we smash our enemies, excellent. But if the battle goes against us, the more rational undead will retreat to safety along the deathways. Meanwhile, we ll leave zombies in fine armor and durthans masks and robes behind to perish with our goblins and such. Some will carry documents to create the impression that by taking this one fortress, our foes have crushed our entire enterprise.
