or angered the oldest and most powerful wizard in the land. He was certain the other zulkirs recalled those without his needing to allude to them.
Yet when he saw the glances that passed among Yaphyll, Lallara, and Samas Kul, he realized that somehow the other members of his faction had already known what he was going to propose. Known, palavered in secret, and resolved to oppose him as staunchly as the remaining zulkirs, and that was staunchly indeed. The other three were his long-time enemies: Nevron with his perpetual sneer and the brimstone stink of his demon servitors clinging to his person; Lauzoril, deceptively bland and clerkish; and Mythrellan, who affected to despise everyone else on the council, who changed her face as often as other great noblewomen changed their gowns, frequently to something with an element of the bizarre but always exquisite nonetheless. Today her eyes were gold and her skin sky blue. A haze of unformed illusion ready for the shaping made her image soft and blurry.
Even though he recognized early on that he was almost certainly speaking in vain, Szass Tam carried on to the end then called for a vote. It seemed possible that, now that the moment for support or defiance had arrived, his supposed allies might lose their nerve.
Alas, they remained resolute. Only Szass raised his hand in support of the proposal he himself had introduced. Nevron leered to see his foe so humiliated. Even prim Lauzoril managed a smirk.
Though he hadn't expected to find Yaphyll, Samas, and Lallara united against him, Szass had thought himself prepared for the possibility that his ploy would fail. Still, the mockery inspired an unexpected paroxysm of rage. He yearned to lash out at every adversary, old and newly revealed, seated around the gleaming red maple table.
He didn't, of course. Attacking six other zulkirs at once might well prove suicidal, even for a mage more powerful than any one of them. Instead, making sure his mask of affability didn't slip, he inclined his head in seeming acceptance.
'So be it,' he said. 'We'll continue on as we always have, deciding all matters by consensus. Be assured, I don't resent it that you rejected my plan, prudent though I believe it was, and I'll keep working diligently to solve the problems that plague us.'
At the same time, simply by thinking, he sent a signal. He'd prepared the magic beforehand, with sufficient concern for subtlety to ensure that even the extraordinarily perceptive Yaphyll wouldn't notice it thrilling through the aether.
After that, everyone blathered on for a while longer, and though he felt a seething impatience to depart, he supposed that really it was fine. His minions needed time to do their work.
As soon as the meeting broke up, he spurned Samas, Yaphyll, and Lallara with their slinking excuses and attempts at reconciliation and translated himself back to his study in the citadel of the order of Necromancy. It took the warlock waiting there an instant to notice his arrival, and then the fellow flung himself to his knees. Tsagoth knelt as well, albeit with a glower. Apparently the blood fiend had expected his master to liberate him once he accomplished the death of Aznar Thrul, but as demonstrated by that success, he was too useful an agent to relinquish when so many challenging tasks remained.
'Get up,' Szass Tam said. 'Tell me what's happening.'
'Yes, Master,' said the younger necromancer, rising. Szass had the conceit that if he peered deep into his subordinate's eyes, he could glimpse an indefinable wrongness there, a hint of the psychic shackles binding the live wizard to silence and obedience, but perhaps it was only his imagination. 'Our agents are spreading the tidings that, in their arrogance, folly, and ingratitude, the other zulkirs denied you the authority you need to preserve the realm.'
'With the proper enchantments in play to make the news seem as infuriating as possible.'
'Yes, Master, just as you directed.'
'Good.' Szass Tam turned to Tsagoth. 'You know what to do from here. Go tell your partners.'
Nular Tabar glanced back at the shuttered three-story brick house behind him. It wasn't the primary stronghold of the order of Conjuration in Eltabbar. That imposing citadel was on the other side of town, but despite a lack of banners, overt supernatural manifestations, and the like, everyone in the neighborhood knew this was some sort of chapter house. People saw the mages and their retainers passing in and out.
They weren't coming out now. They were leaving the protection of the property to Nular and the dozen legionnaires in his patrol, and at that point, it remained to be seen just how hard the job would be. Though in normal times, no commoner dared annoy Red Wizards, scores of people had gathered to glare, mill about, and shout slogans and insults at the house. Apparently, they all wanted Szass Tam for their king, were angry they weren't going to get him, and had decided to hold Nevron, notoriously one of the lich's enemies, responsible for their disappointment. The zulkir of Conjuration wasn't here to bear the brunt of their anger, but a structure belonging to his order was.
Nular had formed his patrol into a line to block the approach to the house as best they could. The problem was that a dozen soldiers couldn't form a very long line without standing so far apart as to give up the ability to protect one another's flanks. He wasn't about to order that, which meant that a fool hell-bent on getting at the building could dart around the end of the formation.
Sure enough, a wiry, dark-haired youth with a sack clutched under his arm lunged at the gap on the southern end. The warrior last in line pivoted and swung his cudgel but was too slow. The lad sprinted on unbashed.
'Hold your positions!' Nular shouted then raced after the youth himself.
The adolescent was quick, but so was he, and he possessed the advantage of long Mulan legs. He caught up, lifted his baton to bash the lad over the head, then thought how the brutal sight might further enflame the mob. He dropped the cudgel to dangle from the strap around his wrist and grabbed the youth with his empty hands instead.
The boy dropped the bag to wrestle and turned out to have some notion of what he was doing. He tried to jam his knee into Nular's groin, and the guard twisted and caught the attack on his thigh. Next came grubby fingers gouging for his eyes. He protected them by ducking his head then butted the adolescent in the face. The lad faltered, and Nular threw him down on his back. That seemed to knock the fight out of him.
Clad in rags, the lad was plainly a pauper. The stained sack gave off a fecal stink. Most likely he'd meant to use the contents to deface the Red Wizards' door.
'Stay down,' Nular panted, 'or I swear, next time I'll use my sword on you.'
The boy glowered but didn't move.
'What in the name of the Kossuth's fire is the matter with you?' Nular continued. 'Would you throw away your life on an idiot prank? You know the wizards punish disrespect.'
'Szass Tam has to be regent!' the youth replied.
'Why do you care? What difference do you think it will make to the likes of you?'
And as long as Nular was posing questions, how had the boy and his fellows learned the outcome of the zulkirs' deliberations so quickly? As often as not, lesser folk never even heard the council had met, let alone what it decided.
It was a mystery, but someone shrewder than Nular would have to puzzle it out. His job was simply to keep order in one section of Eltabbar's labyrinthine streets.
'Get up,' he said, 'and pick up your bag of filth. Now go home! If you're still here in forty breaths, or if I catch you out of doors again tonight, I'll gut you.' He prodded the youth with the tip of his club to start him moving.
Once he'd herded the lad to the other side of the line, Nular scrutinized all the others like him. Feeding off one another's outrage, they were growing more agitated by the moment. It was only a matter of time before the stones started flying.
He was no orator, but he had to say something to try and calm them. He was still trying to frame the words in his mind when some of them cried out, and they all flinched back.
He turned to see what had alarmed them. Standing behind the line was a towering four-armed creature with dark scales and gleaming scarlet eyes.
Nular felt a strange blend of fear and relief, the former because every sane person was leery of demons, and the latter because it was plain the conjurors in the house had sent the creature to help him.
He gazed up at its wolfish face. 'Do you understand me?' he asked.
The entity chuckled. 'Yes.'
'Good. That will make things easier. The sight of you has frightened the mob. We need to keep them intimidated. With luck, scare them into going elsewhere.'
