were saddled, and the foot soldiers had their packs stuffed and ready to sling across their backs. Unfortunately, the company was leaving much of its baggage behind, but that couldn't be helped if they were to travel at maximum speed. In the paddock, a mule brayed as though protesting its abandonment.
Working in concert, Jhesrhi and Bareris cloaked the camp in illusion. For a time, the magic would make it look as if people were still moving around inside and would conceal the tracks the column left when it set forth.
Afterward, the master of griffons found a mount for Bareris, and he overcame its instinctual distrust of the undead by beguiling it with a song. Then the officers of the company convened for a final palaver.
'Are you sure,' asked Aoth, 'that you can lose a pursuing force in the Yuirwood?'
Gaedynn spread his hands as though amazed anyone would even ask. 'Of course.'
Jhesrhi scowled. 'The Aglarondans will have elves to guide them.'
Gaedynn was human. But he'd grown up among the elves of the Yuirwood, a hostage seized in a futile attempt to ensure his father's good behavior.
Gaedynn grinned. 'That's fine, Buttercup. We'll play Foxes and Rabbits through the circles.' He shifted his gaze back to Aoth. 'Frankly, Captain, the person we ought to worry about is you. Are you sure you want to do this?'
'I'm sure I don't,' said Aoth, 'but it's the only thing to do. Get the men moving, and if Tymora smiles, I'll see you in a tenday or two.'
Sensing that he was ready to go, Jet sprang back into the air. Bareris followed, and Mirror, a faceless blot of aching wrongness more felt than seen in the dark, brought up the rear.
When Bareris had last seen Escalant, it had been a city in distress, crammed to overflowing with refugees and fearful that either Szass Tam or the Spellplague would destroy it. But as he surveyed the port from the air, it was plain the place had prospered in the intervening decades. Stevedores scurried to load or unload the dozens of merchant ships moored at the docks, while elsewhere, the sawmills, furniture manufactories, and slave markets were equally busy. It was no wonder the simbarchs wanted to add the town, along with the rest of the Wizard's Reach, to their own dominions.
He looked over at Aoth, flying on his left. 'What now?' he asked.
The warmage smiled crookedly. 'Look for the gaudiest, most ostentatious palace in town. It should be easy enough to spot.'
With its high, gilded minarets and jeweled scarlet banners gleaming in the sunlight, it was. The travelers set down on the expanse of verdant lawn in front of the primary entrance. The high arched double doors were sheathed in gold as well. Unless they were gold through and through. Considering who lived here, anything was possible.
Bareris had given himself the appearance of life, and for a moment, the slaves who came to greet them didn't sense anything amiss. Then they noticed the shadow that was Mirror and faltered in alarm.
'It's all right,' said Bareris, charging his voice with the power to calm and command. 'We don't mean any harm. Simply tell your master that Aoth Fezim, Mirror, and Bareris Anskuld request an audience.'
One of the servants scurried to deliver the message, and in time a dozen guards appeared to demand that the travelers surrender their weapons. They did, and the warriors escorted them into the presence of Samas Kul.
The archmage looked no older, but if possible was even more obese than Bareris remembered him, a heap of a man whose begemmed ornaments and gorgeous crimson robes failed utterly to render him any less repulsive. A small semicircular table sat just in front of his throne as if he were an infant or an invalid, while a bigger one farther away held enough food and drink to supply a banquet. Most likely, as in days of yore, he used magic to float viands from one surface to the other.
Statues-a dragon, a spider, a bear-wrought of various metals stood in alcoves along the walls: golems ready to spring to life if required. Despite these formidable protectors and the human guards who still surrounded Bareris, Aoth, and Mirror, Samas held a wand of congealed quicksilver in his pink, blubbery hand. Bareris supposed he could take the precaution as a sort of compliment.
The zulkir said, 'You must be insane to come here.'
'That,' Aoth replied, 'is a cold greeting for the legionnaires who saved your fleet and possibly even your life on the Alamber Sea.'
Samas sneered. 'You did render good service that night. But any gratitude you earned thereby, you forfeited when you deserted and took the whole of the Griffon Legion with you.'
'Maybe that's fair. But when I discovered I was going to live a long time, I realized I didn't want to spend all those years bowing and scraping. And when I told the men of my intent, they agreed there was a better life to be had.'
'A 'better life' that involved siding with the enemies of your own people!' Droplets of spittle flew from Samas's lips. 'Of conspiring to overthrow all that remains of the Thay that was!'
'Yes, an offense for which you zulkirs tried to kill me. Nevertheless, here I stand before you, because none of that matters anymore. With your permission, we'll show you what does.'
Bareris removed the red book from its pouch. 'This belonged to Druxus Rhym. The simbarchs, for all their claims to arcane knowledge, considered it nonsense. But I trust that you, who presided over the Order of Transmutation, will see deeper.'
Samas held out his hand. The book leaped out of Bareris's grasp and flew to the zulkir. Samas murmured a charm over it, perhaps checking to see if it was some sort of magical trap, then opened the cover.
'Where,' Lauzoril asked, 'are Aoth Fezim and his companions now?'
Seated on the other side of the red maple table, a piece of roast duck in one hand, a cup of apple-flavored liqueur in the other, and his several chins gleaming with grease, Samas had to swallow before he could answer. 'I locked them up, but I haven't punished them in any way. I would have liked to, but under the circumstances…' He shrugged, and his rolls of fat flapped in a way that made his fellow zulkir think of avalanches sliding down a mountain.
A shrewish glint in her eye, Lallara rasped, 'Why did we need a dead bard and knight to stumble across this wretched book a hundred years after Druxus's death? You were his successor. Didn't you have the sense to take an inventory of his possessions?' She looked wizened and frail, but Laurozil knew the appearance was deceptive. Like all of them, she'd used magic both to extend her life and to ward off the genuine disabilities of old age.
Samas's round, sweaty, hairless face turned a deeper, mottled red. 'If you recall, those were tempestuous times. Naturally, I made some effort to take stock of what he'd left behind-'
'But if it wasn't made of gold, ablaze with magic, or edible, you assumed it couldn't be important.'
Inwardly, Lauzoril sighed. Once again, it was time to intervene. It made him miss Dmitra Flass, who, though he'd resented her pretensions to leadership, had likewise exerted her influence to keep their deliberations from descending into useless acrimony.
'We all wish we'd uncovered this information earlier,' he said, 'but what matters is that we have it now. We need to focus on what to do about it.'
'I suppose so,' Nevron said. Like the other male zulkirs, he'd maintained the appearance of relative youth and had strong, ugly features that sneered more often than not. Most of his tattoos were portraits of demons and devils bound to his service, and the scent of brimstone clung to him. 'If we're agreed that the book is anything to worry about. Are we?'
'It's difficult to evaluate whether the ritual could actually destroy one world and allow the mage to mold a new one from the ashes,' Samas said. 'To say the least, it seems unlikely. But I see little reason to doubt that it would kill everything for hundreds of miles around.'
Nevron scowled. 'I think so too.'
'As do I,' Lallara said.
'Then it's unanimous,' Lauzoril said. 'Still, just because Szass Tam could attempt the rite, with dire consequences, doesn't mean he necessarily will.'
'Our spies,' Nevron said, 'confirm Anskuld's report. The lich built his new castles in the same shape as Druxus's drawing.'
'But perhaps,' Lauzoril said, 'he's found a way to raise this particular form of power and turn it to some less
