undead among his followers.
“Yes,” said Aoth. “During the battle, some of the undead spoke of the Great Bone Wyrm.”
“Fair enough, then,” the war hero said. “Now tell me why you ignored my order to report to me as fast as possible and let your company catch up with you.”
“As we all know,” Aoth said, “the undead are poisonous, and after we fought them, sickness broke out among the men. Fortunately the chaplains and other healers controlled it. But what kind of war leader would have left his command before he was sure the problem had been contained? Not your kind, Majesty, not if all the stories about you are true.”
“But what about my priests?” Halonya demanded.
“I believe I already explained that in a dispatch,” said Aoth. “They visited us, they left to return to Luthcheq, and that’s the last I know about them.” He returned his gaze to Tchazzar. “Majesty, you’re my employer, and I’ll answer any question you put to me. But still, I wasn’t expecting quite this sort of interrogation. I expected you’d be glad to hear that I eliminated one nest of enemies, and then we’d discuss the next campaign.”
Tchazzar stared back at him for a few moments and, suddenly, he grinned. “Right you are, Captain, especially with regard to the planning! I delayed my departure until you and your company arrived because Lady Jhesrhi tells me you know how to take Djerad Thymar.”
Aoth smiled wryly. “Does she? All right, what do we know about the place?”
During the discussion that followed, Jhesrhi caught Gaedynn’s eye. They obviously couldn’t speak freely in front of Tchazzar. But he could tell she was eager for some indication of whether there was any reason for hope that the invasion could be stopped. He gave her the tiniest of nods.
And a guard by the door announced Zan-akar Zeraez just a few moments later.
The ambassador had a grim, clenched look to him. Gaedynn was glad because it meant the stormsoul intended to act in accordance with the message Son-liin had given him.
As he should, for the badge she wore to identify herself as a royal herald and the parchment bearing Arathane’s seal were legitimate. But Zan-akar wouldn’t have been the first officer serving abroad to ignore orders from home if he found them inconvenient or unpalatable.
Tchazzar beamed at him. “My lord! This is perfect… or would have been if you’d brought Lord Magnol with you! Now that Captain Fezim has finally seen fit to grace us with his presence”-he gave Aoth a wink-“we can make final plans for the campaign and march at dawn tomorrow.”
Zan-akar took a breath. “Majesty, it is with the profoundest regret that I must ask you to excuse Akanul from any such undertaking. Queen Arathane has ordered our soldiers home.”
Tchazzar gaped at him. “Why?”
“Apparently,” the stormsoul said, “evidence has emerged to prove beyond doubt that dragonborn did not commit the atrocities inside Akanul. Arathane suggests you evaluate the possibility that they weren’t responsible for the killings inside Chessenta either.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Tchazzar snapped, and smoke puffed out of his mouth.
As though in response, a spark or two crawled on the silver lines in Zan-akar’s skin. But Gaedynn had to give him credit. That was the only sign he was afraid.
“I can only repeat what my queen wrote to me,” Zan-akar said, “and assure you she isn’t someone who jumps to rash conclusions.”
“We have a pact!” Tchazzar said. “More than that, we have an opportunity. To destroy a hated enemy once and for all.”
“I promise you,” Zan-akar said, “you don’t have to teach me or any genasi to detest the dragonborn. I pray for the day when our two peoples will unite to humble them once and for all. But it appears that day is yet to come. I beg Your Majesty to understand just how grave a threat the aboleths pose to Akanul, and how vulnerable we are with the bulk of our army elsewhere.”
“I should kill you,” Tchazzar said. More smoke swirled from his mouth and nostrils, and a subtle patterning suggestive of scales sketched itself on his neck.
“Clearly,” the genasi said, “you can if you choose. I’m at your mercy. But I ask you to consider how such a breach of custom and diplomacy would reflect on the honor of a great king and the dignity of his court.”
“Are you impugning my honor?” Tchazzar asked.
“No, Majesty, simply asking you to reflect.”
“Go!” the war hero snarled. “I want you out of my kingdom! You, Magnol, and all your craven, unnatural kind!”
“As you command, Your Majesty.” Zan-akar bowed and turned to go.
You lucky bastard, Gaedynn thought. The gods only know what we’re going to need to do to get Jhesrhi-and the whole Brotherhood, for that matter-out of Tchazzar’s clutches, and you, he orders away.
But he didn’t entirely begrudge the envoy his good fortune. Zan-akar had been an aggravation almost from the day Gaedynn and his comrades had arrived, but he’d acquitted himself bravely in the face of Tchazzar’s wrath.
Tchazzar clasped his hands together, closed his eyes, and took several deep breaths. The smoke stopped fuming out of his nostrils, and the scales melted off his skin.
Then he leered out at the assembly. “This is actually excellent news,” he said. “Arathane’s timidity means more glory and plunder for the rest of us.” He looked at Aoth. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Possibly,” Aoth replied. He then launched into an analysis of how the loss of their genasi allies would likely affect the course of the coming war. He pointed out one difficulty after another but never said that the invasion had become too risky. He wanted Tchazzar to draw that conclusion for himself.
Any rational human monarch would have, but Tchazzar was neither the one nor the other, and as Gaedynn watched the Red Dragon’s jaw set with stubbornness, he wondered if killing Vairshekellabex had been pointless. Maybe it had simply ensured that the war in the south would last longer and cost more sellswords their lives than would have been the case otherwise.
But then he noticed that Hasos had stepped to the side to whisper with a middle-aged woman possessed of a plain, pock-marked face, a shaved head, and two concentric circles painted on her brow. For a moment, the lack of hair made Gaedynn mistake her for a Thayan. Then he realized from the painted rings that she more likely hailed from Gheldaneth, the last surviving city of Mulhorand, which had been subsumed into the Imaskari empire.
When he’d heard what she had to say, Hasos approached the throne and all but stood at attention. His posture made it clear that he wanted to be recognized.
“What is it?” Tchazzar asked.
“Goodwife Nanpret there was one of Your Majesty’s spies in High Imaskar,” Hasos said. “She’s brought us news, and it isn’t good. The incursions from the Plains of Purple Dust have stopped, or at least the empress believes so. If we attack the dragonborn, she’ll send wizards and soldiers to help them.”
I don’t believe it, Gaedynn thought. Finally some luck we didn’t have to make ourselves.
Or had they? He looked to Jhesrhi, and she gave him the same sort of nearly imperceptible nod he’d earlier given her. Evidently they all had their stories to trade if they made it out of Tchazzar’s presence alive.
The war hero glowered at the spy. “How can this be?” he asked.
“I don’t know, Majesty,” Goodwife Nanpret replied. “I didn’t linger to dig for all the details. I summoned a winged demon and made it carry me here to warn you as fast as it could fly.” She hesitated. “It cost me. It cost me dearly.”
If she expected a promise of reward or at least a word of thanks, Tchazzar disappointed her. He was intent on other matters. “Gestanius,” he whispered, “you treacherous piece of dung.”
Hasos peered up at him. “What, Your Majesty? I don’t understand.”
“Nothing!” the war hero snapped. “And this news changes nothing!”
“Majesty,” Aoth said, “I have to say that in my judgment the two pieces of news you’ve received today, taken together, change the strategic picture significantly.”
“If I were some puny mortal warlord, perhaps,” the Red Dragon said. “But I’m a god!”
“Fair enough,” said Aoth. “But you and I have already been to war together. And I’ve seen that even you can lose a battle when the odds are insurmountable.”
“And do you think they’re insurmountable now?”
“I think it might be prudent to let your forces fully recover from one war before leading them into another. I
