Unclean

in time. Drops of saliva spattered him as the crooked fangs gnashed shut.

Then, however, Urhur lurched forward, and his legs buckled beneath him. Employing the pommel of his falchion as a bludgeon, Aoth clubbed the necromancer's head a second time. Urhur slumped entirely limp. Sore and weak from the punishment he'd endured, Bareris tore away the necklace of bones, depriving the Red Wizard of his defensive aura, then threw him to the ground.

Aoth's falchion glowed brighter as he released the counter-spell he'd stored in the steel. Bareris abruptly heard the rasp of his own labored breathing as the spell of silence dissolved. Meanwhile, Urhur's claws and fangs melted away.

'Are you all right?' Aoth whispered.

'When this is over,' Bareris replied, 'I'll want the aid of a healer, but I can manage for now.'

Chathi moved to the door of the tent, shifted the flap, and peeked out. 'I don't think anyone's noticed anything amiss.'

'Good,' said Aoth. 'Can you restore Urhur to his senses?'

'Most likely.' She rooted in her belt pouch, produced a pewter vial, uncorked it, and held it under the Red Wizard's nose.

Urhur's eyes fluttered open, then he flailed, but to little effect. Bareris, Aoth, and Chathi were crouching all around him to hold him down and menace him with their daggers.

'Calm down,' said Aoth. 'You probably realize I don't like you, but my friends and I won't kill you if you answer our questions.'

'You're insane,' Urhur said. 'You'll all die for this outrage.'

Aoth smiled. 'Yes, if it doesn't work out, which means we have nothing to lose. If I were you, I'd think about the implications of that.'

Perhaps seeking to calm himself, Urhur took a deep breath. 'Very well, I'll answer your questions. In all likelihood, I would have done so in any case. I have no secrets.'

'If so,' said Aoth, 'you must be the only Red Wizard who can make that claim, but before we proceed, I want you to think about something. I just cast a counterspell. Bareris and Chathi are each going to do the same. I hope that if anyone has laid a magical binding on you, it will turn out that one of us has succeeded in breaking your fetters, and you can give us what we require without suffering for it.'

'I have no idea what you're babbling about.'

'I admit,' Aoth continued, 'if you do tell the truth, you'll be running a risk. We'll have no way of knowing in advance whether we've actually freed you, but I guarantee that if your responses fail to satisfy us, we'll kill you. Bareris, Chathi, do what you need to do.'

Bareris sang his charm, and the priestess chanted her invocation to the Firelord.

'Now,' said Aoth to the prisoner, 'tell us who created the undead horde.'

Urhur's eyes shifted left, then right, as if he was looking for succor. 'How should I know? All anyone knows is that they came down out of the mountains.'

'You're lying,' said Aoth.

He clamped a hand over the necromancer's mouth, and Bareris and Chathi exerted their strength to hold him motionless. Mirror glided forward, bent down, and slid his shadowy fingertips into Urhur's torso.

It wasn't the sort of violation that broke the skin, shed blood, or made any sort of visible wound, but Urhur bucked and thrashed in agony. His body grew thinner, and new lines incised themselves on his face.

'Enough,' Bareris said, and Mirror pulled his hand away.

'I'll wager,' said Aoth to Urhur, 'that you've unleashed ghosts and such on a good many victims in your time, but I wonder if you'd ever felt a phantom's touch yourself. It looked painful, and you look older. I wouldn't be surprised if Mirror has leeched years from your natural span. Now shall we have him tickle your guts again, or will you cooperate?'

'I don't deserve this,' Urhur whimpered. 'Szass Tam didn't give me a choice. When I tried to keep you from discovering too much or warning Tharchion Focar and the other captains, I didn't even understand what I was doing. I mean, not entirely. My memory's funny. It's like I'm split in two.'

'Just tell us,' said Aoth. 'Where did the marauders come from?'

'Why do I have to say? It's plain you already know.'

'We need to hear,' the war mage said.

'All right, curse you. My peers made them.'

'And helped them to their victories?'

'Yes!'

'What are your orders now that you and the other Red Wizards in this army are supposed to fight the nighthaunt and its primary host yourselves?'

'I-' Urhur's eyes rolled up in his head.

His back arched and his limbs jerked as the dying orc's had done. He jerked in a final great spasm that broke Chathi's grip on his arm then lay motionless with bloody foam oozing from the corner of his mouth.

The fire priestess placed her hand in front of Urhur's contorted features, feeling for his breath. After a moment, she said, 'He's dead.'

'Damn it,' said Aoth. 'I'd hoped we'd forestalled that. Obviously, we only delayed it. Still, he admitted some things. Enough, I hope, to spare us a meeting with the headsman.' He looked back at the slit in the rear of the tent.

Clad in long, plain, hooded cloaks like many a common legionnaire, two figures pushed through the opening then threw back their cowls to reveal themselves as Nymia and Milsantos. The tharchions had trailed Bareris and his comrades up to the tent, then skulked outside to listen to the interrogation.

'You've done well,' Milsantos said.

'They've made a filthy mess,' Nymia growled. 'They attacked and killed a Red Wizard, and we still don't know that the necromancers mean to betray us.'

'If they don't,' Bareris asked, 'then why couldn't Urhur say so? Why was that the question that finally triggered the seizure?'

'I don't know,' the female commander answered. 'I don't pretend to comprehend all the ins and outs of wizardry, but if Szass Tam only changed his plans after the other zulkirs rebuffed him, how could he already have sent new orders to minions hundreds of miles away from Eltabbar?'

'The same way,' said Milsantos, 'my informants passed a message to me: magic.'

'I suppose,' Nymia said. 'Still-'

'Still,' Milsantos said, 'you don't like it that we have, in effect, colluded in the murder of a Red Wizard, and you shrink from the thought of making a whole troupe of them our prisoners. So do I. I didn't come to be an old man, let alone retain my office for lo these many decades, by indulging in such practices. But we now have genuine reason to suspect the necromancers of treachery, and I won't send legionnaires into battle with such folk positioned to strike at their backs. They deserve better, and so do we. Remember, if we lose, the enemy is apt to kill us, too, and if they don't, the zulkirs might.'

'Yet if we anger Szass Tam and the order of Necromancy…' Nymia threw up her hands. 'Yes, all right, we'll do it your way, assuming we even have followers stupid enough to lay hands on Red Wizards.'

Chathi smiled. 'The Braziers will help you, Tharchion.'

'And I,' said Aoth, 'know griffon riders who'll do the same.'

Malark jumped, caught the top of the high wrought-iron fence with its row of sharp points, and swung himself over without cutting himself or even snagging his clothing. He then dropped to the grass on the other side, his knees flexing to absorb the jolt.

As one of Dmitra Flass's lieutenants, he actually had no need to enter in such a fashion. He could have presented himself at the gate and waited for the watchman to appear and admit him or procured his own key, but why bother? For a man trained as a Monk of the Long Death, hopping the fence was easy as climbing a flight of stairs.

Alert and silent by habit, not because he expected trouble, he strolled onward through Eltabbar's largest cemetery. The meadows with their stone and wooden markers were peaceful after dark.

He often came here where no one could find and interrupt him to mull over one problem or another.