Undead

creatures and shot them. That was the reason that Dmitra Flass-or her outlander lieutenant-had trained ravens to perform the same task. The birds had a touch of magic in them, and weren't limited to flying to and fro from set locations. They could locate an army in the field or even a specific individual.

One of Nymia's aides held out his arm. The raven landed on his wrist like a falcon. He untied the miniature leather scroll case on the bird's leg and proffered it to Nymia.

She unscrewed the cap and magic swelled the tube to its natural size. She shook out the parchment and unrolled it.

The message read:

As you are surely aware, Kethin Hur was not present at the battle for the Keep of Sorrows, nor is he participating in the present campaign. He claims his strength is needed to guard his southern border and make sure the Mulhorandi don't invade while we Thayans are busy fighting one another. But my sources report signs he's secretly massing troops in the northernmost lands of his domain.

The council wouldn't approve of me telling you this. They want you focused on laying waste to Szass Tam's territories. But I thought you should know. In days to come, remember who did you a favor.

Malark Springhill had neither signed the message nor spelled out the reason Nymia ought to be concerned, but he hadn't needed to. She understood. While she was busy fighting in the North, Kethin Hur, the governor of Thazalhar, meant to raid into Pyarados, pillaging and perhaps even seizing land.

Grasping and treacherous though he was, he wouldn't have dared attempt such a thing in peacetime. But amid the chaos spawned by war, blue fire, and earthquakes, he was all too likely to succeed.

Nymia had to thwart the whoreson. But could she, when the zulkirs themselves had ordered her north?

She wished Aoth were present to counsel her. Over the years, he'd offered consistently good advice, and she'd regretted sending him to Bezantur for vivisection. But his life hadn't seemed worth an argument with Dmitra Flass.

What might he say if he were with her? Maybe that a high-ranking officer had no choice but to follow the commands of her masters, but enjoyed some discretion as to precisely how to obey. If Nymia split her army in two and left a portion of it to fight in Delhumide, she could maintain she'd prosecuted her part in the master strategy with all due diligence.

And if that wasn't good enough for the zulkirs, she'd say she was sick, had needed to return to Pyarados, and could hardly travel without a proper escort. Or, she could claim she had reason to believe Kethin Hur had aligned himself with Szass Tam. By the Black Flame, that might even be true! It made more sense than if he'd decided to raid a neighboring tharch without a powerful ally backing his play.

Anyway, she'd solve today's problem today, and figure out how to appease the council later. Because for her, the real point of the war wasn't to decide if one archmage or several would rule Thay, but to protect her own station and possessions. Nothing else mattered half as much.

She spent most of the morning dividing her army and its provisions in two and instructing Baiyen Tabar, who looked less than eager to assume command of the troops she was leaving behind. In truth, Nymia didn't blame him. He wouldn't have enough men to be confident of accomplishing the tasks the zulkirs had set him-or rather, her.

But she could scarcely acknowledge she might be abandoning him to defeat and destruction. Instead she promised rich rewards for the victories she professed to be certain he would win. She pledged, too, to return as soon as she could, then marched the best of her warriors south.

The sky was the color of slate as the Gray Archers, or what was left of them, laid their comrade on the pyre. Cremation wasn't one of their customs, but during their years in Thay, they'd learned not to bury anyone even if he hadn't perished at the hands of a vampire or something similar. With the power of necromancy rampant in the land, the corpse was all too likely to dig its way out of the grave and start slaughtering its former friends.

'Damn it,' Darvin Redfox whispered, 'we can't even send our dead to the Foehammer in the way they would wish.'

Taller than he and snub-nosed, her chestnut hair gathered in a long braid, Lureene Pinehill was both his lieutenant and his lover, but generally didn't allow the intimate side of their relationship to show in her public behavior. Now, however, she gave his hand a surreptitious squeeze. 'Tempus will welcome him anyway.'

'I hope so.' The torch dropped onto the oil-doused wood, and flame crackled upward. 'And the rest of us, too, when our time comes.'

'That won't be anytime soon. The sickness has run its course. Evendur was the first case in several days, and he'll also be the last. You'll see.'

'I hope so,' Darvin repeated. To take back Nothos, a mostly ruinous town in northern Lapendrar, the mercenary company had needed to destroy a garrison of necromancers and dread warriors. With the wizards' magic weakened, the Gray Archers succeeded, but afterward, sickness broke out among the ranks, possibly a result of close contact with the undead.

'I think you're tired,' Lureene said.

'I am. Tired of fighting ghouls and wraiths, and of serving lords who traffic with demons and feel only contempt for anyone who isn't both Thayan and Mulan.'

'Do you want to seek employment elsewhere? I'm sure someone is fighting a war in some other part of Faerыn.'

'I'd love it, but how would we get there? With the earth shaking and the blue fires burning, it's difficult enough to march overland. Can you imagine how dangerous it must be to travel by sea? No, we're stuck here.' He spat. 'People say the world's ending. If so, I guess it doesn't matter anyway.'

'When the funeral's over, you're coming to my tent. I know how to brighten your mood.'

But it seemed she wouldn't have the chance. When the fire had had its way with the dead Gray Archer, and the company priest finished the final prayer, several of the men accosted Darvin. He inferred that they too must have been conferring in hushed voices as they watched the body burn.

'Captain.' Squinting Aelthas said, 'Sir. Sorry to bother you, but the money didn't come again today.'

'I know,' Darvin said. He'd been assured their pay would follow them north, but it was a tenday late.

'You know we're not shirkers or cowards, Captain. We've followed you into all nine kinds of Hell. But if the council of zulkirs isn't going to pay us, what's the point?'

Darvin groped for the right words to persuade the men to be patient. Then, it was as if something turned over in his head, and he decided he was out of patience himself. 'Fortunately, there's an easy remedy,' he said. 'Collect our wages from the town.'

Lureene pivoted toward him, her brown eyes narrowed. 'Are you sure that's wise? By the looks of it, this place has been sacked already.'

'Then the people should be used to it.'

'I don't think we're supposed to mistreat them. The zulkirs want Lapendrar-'

'We're not mistreating them. We're charging a fair price for ridding their settlement of undead. Now stop blathering and organize the collection!'

Her mouth tightened. 'Yes, sir.'

He felt a pang of guilt for snarling at her, but he'd never been one for apologies, and so he didn't tell her he was sorry. Not even late that night, when a burgher had broken her arm with a club and the riot was well under way.

The dead griffon scarcely had any flesh left, let alone feathers. Yet its rattling wings carried it through the air, because that was the unnatural nature of undeath.

Bareris was no necromancer. But over the years, as his bardic powers increased and his mood grew ever bleaker, he'd discovered that his music could reanimate dead bodies. With mounts in scarce supply, he'd used the talent back in Xingax's stronghold to create one more. It was carrying Tammith, too, strapped to its skeletal form and shrouded in black cloth to ward her from the sun.

He peered through the gathering twilight at the plains of Tyraturos stretched below. Soon it would be time to set down and make camp, and Tammith would wake. He smiled at the prospect of seeing and touching her again. His throat tingled.