Undead

that grove, when the necromancer came to speak with us.'

'Yes, but over the course of a decade, a man can change his opinion. Consider this. Samas Kul cast his lot with the lich for a season or two. Yaphyll's allied with him now. Half the tharchions jump back and forth like frogs. By the Abyss, I doubt that even Nymia would stay loyal if she thought she'd fare better on the other side, and then where would you and I be with our preferences and principles?'

'It's more sensible,' Bareris said, 'to consider where you actually are. Our mistress and the zulkirs have treated you well. They've given you command of the Griffon Legion and purses full of gold.'

'Things I never wanted. I was happy as I was. If they want to reward me, I wish it could be with their respect. Respect for my judgment and experience.' Aoth shifted slightly atop the fence.

'Now I see. They offended you by rejecting your advice. But I'll be honest with you. It isn't plain to me that you were right and they were wrong.'

'It isn't plain to me, either, but I feel it, just as I've sensed such things once or twice before. We believe we've out-thought the enemy, but we haven't. Something nasty is going to happen at the Keep of Sorrows, and I'd rather be far away when it does.'

'You say that, but I know you're not a coward,' Bareris said.

'You're right. I have my share of courage, or at least I hope I do. What I lack is a cause worth risking my life over. For a long while, I thought I was fighting to save the green, bountiful Thay of my boyhood, but look around you. That realm's already dead, trampled by armies and poisoned by battle sorcery. I'm not a necromancer, and I don't want to waste the rest of my days trying to animate the rotting husk that remains.'

'And neither should you,' Aoth continued. 'I understand why you fight-to avenge Tammith. But from all you've told me, she'd weep to see what your compulsion has made of you-a bard who never sings except to kill. I think she'd want you to lay down your grief and hatred and start life anew.'

He's made up his mind, Bareris realized. He's going to saddle Brightwing and disappear into the sky, even if I refuse to go with him.

And that would be a disaster. Aoth had matured into one of the most formidable champions in the south. The cause could ill afford to lose him, and it certainly couldn't manage without all the griffon riders, who might well follow where their captain led.

Bareris would have to stop him.

'You know me too well,' he said, infusing his speech with enchantment. 'It is hate that drives me, and I won't pretend otherwise. But your judgment is too pessimistic where our homeland is concerned. What sorcery has broken, it can mend. Given a chance, the old Thay will rise again, blue skies, thriving plantations, mile-long merchant caravans, and all.'

Aoth's eyelids fluttered. He gave his head a shake as if it felt muddled and he needed to clear it. 'Well, it's possible, I suppose. But for it to flower again in our lifetime-'

'We need to win the war quickly,' Bareris said, 'before it further fouls the earth, water, and air, and further depopulates the countryside. I agree, the zulkirs agree, and that's why they intend to strike hard at the opening Szass Tam is giving them. You see the sense in it, don't you?'

'Yes,' Aoth admitted, his speech ever so slightly slurred. 'I do understand, just as I understand that they're cunning, and mine is only one dissenting voice. It's just…' He seemed unable to complete his thought.

'If you understand, then help! Keep your oath. Stand with me and the rest of your friends. If we win, you'll share in the glory and all the good things that will follow. If we lose, at least you won't live out your life wracked with a betrayer's guilt, wondering whether your prowess might have meant the difference.'

'Fastrin the Delver went mad,' Mirror said in his hollow moan. Bareris jerked around, and Aoth did too, despite his light trance. Over the years, they'd grown used to the ghost hovering around, but he spoke so rarely that his utterances still tended to startle.

'He wanted to kill everyone,' Mirror continued. 'Some folk fought, some ran, and either way, it didn't matter. He got everyone in the end. But I'm glad I'm one who fought.'

Bareris's mouth tightened in exasperation. The terse story agreed with the history Quickstrike the gravecrawler had once related, and almost certainly represented one of Mirror's rare glimmers of authentic memory, but that wasn't the point. Though the ghost appeared to be recommending courage, his story also implied that those who dared to cross archwizards like Szass Tam could anticipate only destruction. That moral seemed likely to bolster Aoth's doubts and so disrupt the influence Bareris was weaving.

But Aoth sighed and said, 'I suppose I'd feel the same way. Death gets us all eventually, doesn't it? If not in the form of an ambitious lich or crazy warlock, then in some other guise. So you might as well stick by your comrades and follow the banner you've chosen no matter how ragged and faded it becomes.'

Bareris's shoulders slumped with relief. Beneath that emotion was the hint of another-a vague, uncomfortable squirming that might have been shame-but it subsided quickly. 'Now that's the Aoth I've known for all these years.'

Aoth snorted. 'Yes, Aoth the fool.' His mail clinking, he slid off the fence. 'Let's go back and get the flogging over with.'

Perched on a mound at the edge of the sheer drop that was the First Escarpment, girt with a double ring of walls, the Keep of Sorrows had never fallen, and wise men opined it never could. Still, as Nular Zurn, the castellan of the granite fortress, stood on the battlements and studied the advancing host through his spyglass, he felt tense anyway.

It wasn't just the size of the besieging force, though it was huge, darkening the plain like a vast stain and flying the standards of every tharch and order of Wizardry, since Szass Tam claimed dominion over them all. Nor was it the knowledge that the lich himself was down there somewhere. What troubled him was the nature of the troops under his command.

Throughout its history, Thay had employed undead troops, the Zombie Legion, dread warriors, and the like. During his thirty-five years of soldiering, Nular had, of necessity, grown accustomed to such creatures. But he'd never seen so many gathered together, rank upon rank of withered and sometimes eyeless faces, and enclosed wagons shrouded in pockets of unnatural gloom carrying entities that could only move around between sunset and dawn. Although the host was still some distance away, the wind already carried its carrion stink, and he wondered how the lich's companies of living warriors could stand marching in the thick of it.

Nular glanced up and down the walkway. Lacking spyglasses, his own soldiers couldn't see the advancing army as well as he could, but they could discern enough to discomfit them. He could read it in their faces.

'Where's our hospitality?' he said, raising his voice sufficiently to carry along the battlements. 'Why do you stand mute when guests have come to call? Say hello!'

Its gray hide creased with scars and spittle flying from its mouth, a blood orc sergeant screamed an ear- splitting battle cry. In moments, all the orcs joined in and the human warriors too, although the latter couldn't compete with their pig-faced comrades. Their shouts were all but lost in the din.

As the noise subsided, the company looked steadier. The sergeant turned to Nular. 'Lord! The closest ones are in catapult range.'

'I believe so,' said Nular, 'but wait.' The zulkirs promised a swift resolution to the siege, but in case they were mistaken, he intended to use catapult stones, ballista bolts, and all other resources with care.

'Look!' someone shouted.

Nular peered outward again. Riding in from the west, a dozen horsemen galloped into the open space between Szass Tam's army and the keep. From their course, it was plain they rode for their lives, hoping to reach the latter.

Szass Tam's archers reacted within a moment or two, and arrows arced through the air. Nular expected to see men and horses fall, but instead, they simply popped like soap bubbles until only a pair of riders remained. The others, Nular realized, had been illusions intended to draw the enemy's attack.

More shafts flew at the real horsemen and their mounts, but glanced harmlessly away. The riders had a second defensive enchantment in place. Nular realized the fools might actually reach the keep. 'Open a sally port!' he shouted.

Voices bellowed, relaying his command. Then a huge shadow soared up from a patch of darkness in the midst of the enemy host and flew toward the riders.

Nular had difficulty making out its shape, but it resembled a giant bat. 'Shoot the thing!' he shouted. 'Where