The Crimson Gold

CHAPTER TWO

20 Mirtul, 1373 DR

The dream was always the same. Naglatha found herself on a windswept plain with fertile farming lands as far as the eye could see in every direction. The air was charged with an electric energy that was palpable. Not far from her, atop a slight knoll, stood a small but powerful enclave of men clothed in crimson cloaks. She recognized their leader, Ythazz Buvaar, by his fiery eyes and vigorous manner. She moved closer to the group of men to hear him better.

"The time has come," she heard him shout, "to shake off the chains of the pharaohs. Their days are over."

Naglatha moved a strand of her midnight-black hair away from her eyes and mingled with the group of red-robed men. None of them saw her, and she was free to step about and study them all without changing the events of the vision. Na-glatha could see some were moved by the words of the man who would be the first leader of the Red Wizards. Before this time, they were simply a group of renegade spellcasters that hid themselves from the watching eyes of the god-kings of Mulhorand. Their numbers were scattered throughout the kingdom, but a core group of the sect, that called themselves by the title of Red Wizards, demanded freedom from the theocracy of the old empire. They wanted the right to study and learn about every form of magic that existed in Faerun and discover that which did not. And the god-kings would not give them their freedom willingly.

Concentrated mostly in the northern provinces, these men did not have the backward, inbred worship for the pharaohs that most of their society possessed. And Ythazz Buvaar had stepped forward from that consortium. He foresaw a kingdom without the phar-ohs, where anyone could attain the same position of power as the god-kings, but through magic instead of worship. He rallied the others to his vision. They had caught his enthusiasm enough to raise an army and sack the capital city of Delhumide. But now, the rulers of Mulhorand had sent an army to crush the rebellion, and Ythazz Buvaar had gathered the most powerful wizards here on the hills above Thazalhar to stop them. Naglatha could feel her heart quicken its tempo in expectation of what she knew was to follow. She could have recited the words herself, she knew them so well.

"Now is the time," Ythazz Buvaar told the others.

"Now is when we show those god-kings just how powerful our magic is and why it is like the sea. Whether they choose to believe in it or not," he said with a slight smile, "they have entered the water. And they are about to get wet."

Naglatha watched as the select men joined hands, almost as if in prayer. She longed to enter the circle herself, but she was never able to do that. Each time she had tried in the past, the dream simply faded away. So now she made herself content by studying the proceedings as they unfolded. But it chaffed her to sit along the sides and not be a part of the glory of the birth of Thay, even though the events occurred four and a half centuries ago and these men had long since turned to dust, their time come and gone.

Ythazz Buvaar led the chants. Most of the words were lost on Naglatha, though she always woke with them ringing in her ears, and they haunted her waking thoughts. The spells were lost to time as well, though she never gave up hope that she would one day rediscover them. She worked tirelessly in her search, and no price was ever too great to pay for even the slightest scrap of information. She approached all her tasks with the greatest of zeal, and her ruthlessness set her apart from гйапу of the other Red Wizards. She had garnered a reputation as an individual who would do anything to further their cause, no matter the cost. But, in her heart, she wished they were more like the men of her recurring dreams; men who seized glory without hesitation.

Ythazz Buvaar raised his head to the sky and said:

"We call you, Lord of the Hidden Layers. We beseech you for aid, and we bind you to us. We call you by your true name. Come, Eltab, for we have great need!"

The wind died down and fell silent. The very air seemed alive with energy. At first, there was the sound of distant thunder. Eventually, though, the men gathered there realized that the sound was the ground that rumbled beneath their feet. Naglatha could feel the vibrations deep within her own chest, and her breath became rapid. A great tearing sound was heard, and the land split wide beneath the spell-casters' feet, throwing some to the rich soil. However, Ythazz Buvaar and Naglatha held their ground.

With a hiss of steam and eldritch smoke, a figure slowly rose to the surface. Standing almost fifteen feet tall, the demon-king Eltab stood before the group of stunned wizards. His body was completely covered with black and red plates, like some unholy armor. While he was vaguely human in shape, his hands ended in fearsome claws, and his head was that of some great muzzled beast. Multiple horns sprouted from his head, and he flexed monstrous, insect wings that spanned almost twenty feet. Naglatha held her breath in awe, and she watched the dark lord regard the gathered men with his malevolent, red-slitted yellow eyes.

Many miles to the north, a similar rending took place in the land, and a river was born that would, for years to come, bear the name of the abyssal demon these men had summoned.

"Who has called me forth?" the tanar'ri lord demanded in an ancient voice that chilled Naglatha to her very core.

Most of the Red Wizards cowered or were paralyzed by the creature's frightful gaze, but Naglatha saw with a mixture of envy and admiration that Ythazz Buvaar stepped forward.

"We have done so, lord," he spoke with only the hint of a quiver in his voice. "We have freed you by word and deed, and we have great need of you." He bowed when he finished.

Eltab stood there and flexed his wings in thought. "And what would you ask of me? " he finally demanded.

"We ask you for the blood of our enemies," Ythazz Buvaar explained. "We ask that these plains run red and the land is drenched with it like an unstoppable tide." Naglatha could see the demon was intrigued and even relaxed his frightful stare for a moment.

"And what would you give me," the tanar'ri asked slyly, "if I grant you this favor?"

"We will give you your due and our worship," Ythazz Buvaar promised. "Lead us in this, and we will follow you for all our days to come. We will guide you to the descendents of the Rashemaar usurper, Yvengi, and there jrou may take your just revenge." Ythazz Buvaar watched the demon closely after the last offering.

"Yvengi!" the demon king cried, and the ground shook again. Naglatha watched as he crouched lower and held his hands out as though he were strangling someone. "Yesss," he hissed, clutching at the air, "I would grind his descendents to dust for their ancestor's crimes against me. If not for him, I would not have been trapped. If not for him…"

Naglatha swelled with pride at the way Ythazz Buvaar manipulated the demon-king and the way he stood his ground as the others trembled in the shadows. This was a man who could control the country and rule the way kings should. This was the way of power, she thought, the way of a true Red Wizard of Thay.

"We will take you to his line," Ythazz Buvaar continued, and Naglatha could see the shrewd gleam in his dark eyes, even though the tanar'ri lord could not. "We will give them to you and more."

"Yes," the demon said, "you will give him to me and more. Much more than that." The demon-king turned, and for one moment, locked eyes with Naglatha. She was startled, for in all the times she relived the dream, that had never happened before. She stood transfixed, uncertain what to do next. However, the tanar'ri lord turned away and was flanked by the frightened and awestruck Red Wizards. And he led them into war.

When Naglatha turned around, the battle was over, and the Red Wizards were victorious. She lifted the hem of her robe and picked her way carefully over the many Mulhorandi corpses that littered the plains, bodies stacked like cordwood. The scene was what Ythazz Buvaar had asked for: blood covered the earth like a crimson sea. And, atop the same knoll, the victorious wizards gathered once more, but not in the company of the demon-king.

"Victory is ours," he told the surviving spellcast-ers. "And this land is now ours. We will become more powerful than those religious fools to the south. We shall be the power to be reckoned with." Naglatha was rapt with force of his words.

"And what of the demon," a wizard named Jorgmac-don asked, "now that we have won?"

"We called him forth, and now we will send him back," Ythazz Buvaar answered defiantly.

Naglatha lowered her head in sorrow, though, because she knew that was not to be. Her mind raced over the details of how more than a few of those wizards lost their lives in their attempts to return the demon-king to the Abyss. Baus Ilmere, the youngest among them, was sliced neatly in half by Eltab's rending claws with almost surgical precision. He was one of the luckier ones. Even Ythazz Buvaar did not escape completely unscathed. They learned at a high cost that once called, the beast could not be easily dismissed by them or anyone else, for that matter.

When she raised her head next, she was standing in the capitol of the newly created Thay. The leaders of the rebellion had chosen to name their country in honor of Thayd, who led the first uprising against Mulhorand two thousand years ago and prophesized the empire's eventual fall. Mulhorand refused to admit defeat and continued to include Thay in their maps as a part of their empire, but it was in name only to them and ridiculed by the rest of Faerun. The Red Wizards had won their freedom. Many of the men from the Battle of Thazalhar stood united within the newly walled city as Jorgmacdon, now the first Zulkir of the School of Conjuration, strained to place the final glyph that would seal the abyssal lord beneath the city, which would forever bear his name: Eltabbar. Tremors shook the buildings, and the demon's cries of fury echoed throughout the streets.

"This is not the end," Eltab raged. "This I promise you!"

But as Jorgmacdon and the others weaved their spells, those cries grew weaker and weaker. None were able to divine a way to return him to his Abyssal Plane, but the Red Wizards were able to bind him for many years to come beneath the city's canals and waterways, whose very purpose was to be his prison.

"It is done," the exhausted zulkir proclaimed though there were still the faintest rumblings beneath their sandals. "We are free of him," he told the other Red Wizards. "And now we can build our own empire."

Naglatha smiled warmly, and her black eyes glowed at the thought of the dynamic future the country had and the possibilities that were open to these powerful men who were not afraid to wield that might. Caught up in the ecstasy, she moaned softly in her sleep.

"Mistress," a worried voice called out, "is anything amiss?"

Naglatha resisted the pull of the sound of her bodyguard. She hated the thought of awakening to find she was in a land of commerce now, populated by traders and merchants. Eventually, however, she could no longer refuse the worried queries. She opened her eyes gradually, adjusting to the light. Naglatha raised herself slightly, and the silken sheets slid down to rest on her thighs. She propped herself up by her elbows and shook her head gently, her waist-length hair falling away from her smooth face. Naglatha blinked the grains of sleep from her eyes and turned slowly toward the door of her room.

"Come," she said in answer to the insistent knocking on the heavy oak door.

A tall man, nearly six and a half feet in height, strode forcefully into the room. He moved quickly for one who carried slightly more weight on his frame than he should, and immediately surveyed the chamber. He was completely bald and had on fairly expensive servant's garb. He sported elaborate jewelry and that, coupled with his girth and clean-shaven body, created the impression that he was a eunuch from Mulhorand. It suited Naglatha to have people believe that of her servant and not recognize him as a bodyguard and a Thayan Knight.

Naglatha could see her other bodyguard, similarly outfitted, kept his station in the doorway, however, and did not enter the room. Milos Longreach had served his mistress for many years, and he knew better than to enter into her presence unless the danger was real, or if she beckoned him. Naglatha smiled at his wisdom and knew she couM trust his ability to wield his massive scimitar if truly needed. She turned her attention to the other and sighed in resignation.

Heraclos the Quick was a relatively recent addition to Naglatha's stable. The previous "eunuch," who had served her well and longer than Milos, had met an untimely accident a few years back, and Naglatha had been forced to find a replacement. Heraclos had come somewhat recommended with the caveat that he needed breaking. Naglatha accepted his service, sure she could master him quickly. Unfortunately for both of them, Heraclos bore more than a few scars from her efforts at training.

"What brings you into my chamber," she demanded, "unbidden and unwashed?"

Heraclos slowly approached her bed and lowered himself to one knee. "Mistress," he offered, "I feared for your safety."

Naglatha made a show of investigating the ornate and obviously empty room before she turned her gaze back to the guard. "Explain yourself," she ordered.

With the color slowly rising to his cheeks, Heraclos said, "My lady, in my few years of service, I have never known you to fall asleep at mid-day. And so soundly, too," he added. "I know you must be weary. We made the journey back here from Selgaunt in record time, but still, when you did not answer the first of my knocks, I wondered what had happened." He lowered his head after that and awaited his mistress's punishment. He did not have to wait long.

Naglatha pulled back her bed sheets, swung her legs to the floor and withdrew a long, thin rapier she had secreted next to her. While still seated on the bed, she placed the tip of the sword under her servant's chin and raised his face with it until she caught his eye.

"You will never," she said vehemently, "enter this chamber unless you have just cause to suspect my immediate peril." The rapier made a thin hiss in the air as she sliced Heraclos up his left cheek. "Do you understand?" she questioned him in a deadly whisper.

A second hiss and blood flowed down his right cheek as well.

"Yes, Mistress," he answered submissively.

"Good," she smiled at him. "Now go and clean up. And," she added, "do not return until I summon you."

"Yes, my lady," he replied and left the chamber swiftly.

Naglatha sighed and reached over to the end of the bed, where she had carelessly tossed her robe before she had lain down for her brief nap. She slipped the rich garment over her and savored the feel of the scarlet material against her bare shoulders. Only in private did she don the clothing that marked her true station as a Red Wizard. Most of her time was spent in clandestine service of her fellow wizards, and her identity had to remain a secret. That was one of the reasons she had not shaved her head in true Thayan fashion, nor sported any visible tattoos as did many for ornamentation and protection. The other reason she did not cut her hair was because Naglatha reveled in its heavy weight and ebony color. Her hair was so black that it actual^ glinted blue in the right light. She was proud of her mane.

She put her arms in the air and let her head fall back, stretching the muscles along her neck and spine like a cat. When she straightened, she moved over to the heavy drapes and threw them open. Bright sunlight streamed through. Naglatha was loathe to admit to her servant that he was right: she normally didn't sleep while the sun still rode high in the sky. Then again, she had never had to return so quickly from Sembia to Thay before. She padded barefoot over to the large desk she had requested from the innkeeper to review her plans.

On one of the two chairs by the desk was a small bag. Naglatha began to empty the contents onto the writing table. As she rifled through her own belongings, she mused once again how she hated travel. Working out of Sembia and Thay was not bothersome in and of itself, only moving between the two cities and staying at inns along the way was. She longed for the comforts of her own homes, not the impersonal possessions of someone else, no matter how expensive they might be.

Naglatha removed a folded black robe. Like her red one, this cloak was also decadently soft and sumptuous. A matching mask with a strange, red insignia followed. She placed both items carefully on one of the chairs. She regarded the pile and, after a second thought, passed her hand over the collection. The robe and mask disappeared from sight, cloaked in an illusion that made them look like part of the chair. Naglatha pulled out a bundle of letters, neatly tied up. She dropped the empty satchel to the floor and sat down on that chair, untying the missives and spreading them out carefully on the wooden desk.

Most unusual was the correspondence at the top. The insignia on it was that of two clasped hands, one human and one skeletal: the mark of the Zulkir of

Necromancy, Szass Tam. Naglatha traced the design with one hand and propped up her head with the other. It was this message that had caused her to pack her belongings and make the mad dash back to Thay. A few Red Wizards knew of the presence of a secret, recruiting agent in Selgaunt by the name of The Black Flame. However, the Zulkir of Necromancy and the former chief of foreign activities, Alzegund the Trader, were the only two who knew Naglatha's true identity and understood the nature of her business there. With Alzegund dead nine years now, Szass Tam was the only one who could find her wherever she was in Selgaunt.

She read the note over again, still somewhat in shock. Szass Tam had called a meeting in the Thay-mount region. What was nearly unheard of was that he had invited all the tharchions and zulkirs who were available to attend the impromptu assembly. The numbers were startling, and the fact that the lich would ask all these Red Wizards to abandon their seats of power, no matter for how short a time, was historic. There was no way Naglatha could refuse, just as she knew no one else would either, regardless of the temporary cost and the outward protests they made.

Just what are yon planning, old lich, she wondered, and why?

Shaking her head, Naglatha replaced the note on the desk and sifted through the others. Some were letters sent directly to her, and some were notes that had been intercepted or stolen outright by her extensive network of spies and thieves. She had taken on the mantle of chief of foreign activities very seriously and with an aggressiveness never shown by her predecessor, Alzegund the Trader. Perhaps that was why, she often supposed, that no one looked too closely into the causes of his deadly "accident" and her sudden opportunity for advancement. Everyone, herself most of all, was pleased at the change.

She opened a small, worn register that contained the names of the Thayans who held positions of note within the borders of Thay. Naglatha had made a careful tally of each person's rank, and beside their name was one of three marks. The symbols, whose code was known only to her, signified whether that particular tharchion or zulkir was loyal, disloyal, or undecided in regards to Szass Tarn. A few remained guardedly neutral and were, therefore, questionable to Naglatha. She suspected some of them would only too gladly go over to the most powerful side of the moment if the scales were tipped.

One communique that stood out amongst the many was a brief note from Tharchion Azhir Kren of Gauros to Tharchion Homen Odesseiron in Surthay. Naglatha unconsciously shook her head in amazement when she thought of Homen Odesseiron. She had never in her life known of anyone who had willing stepped down from the rank of Red Wizard, but he had-and he had survived. He made little secret that he preferred to spend his time maintaining and drilling a sizeable army of his own rather than maintain his spells and magics. Many knew of his hatred of Rashe-men, but the tharchion did not reach his advanced age by chance. He was careful to always openly support Szass Tarn's policy of trade over war and did nothing to draw the lich's attention or ire upon himself. But a few knew full well that Homen Odesseiron did not believe in the path of commerce the Zulkir of Necromancy was leading Thay down. And no one knew this better than Tharchion Azhir Kren.

Situated in the forbidding and desolate pine forest wilderness and ruined towers of Gauros, Azhir Kren was restless for battle. As an accomplished general, she looked for any excuse, short of manufacturing one, to lead Szass Tarn's formidable troops against Rashemen. And Naglatha knew she was nearing the point where a fabricated slight against her was not out of the question. Both she and Homen Odesseiron felt as though they had been denied the prosperity that Szass Tarn's plan had brought to many of the other Red Wizards and leaders. The letter Naglatha held in her hands was full of anger and dissatisfaction. Both tharchions felt they were no longer as powerful as they had been when Thay was more aggressive in its conquests, and both felt that an invasion was the only way they could restore their power bases. Both believed open conquest was for the overall good of Thay as well.

Naglatha ran her finger down her columns. Though it appeared that there were more friends than foes of Szass Tam on parchment, scraps of information had trickled down to Naglatha that indicated more than a few of the lich's allies might be swayed or were already on the fence. Even amongst his supporters, there was dissension. Word had come to Naglatha that Tharchion Invarri Metran of Delhumide was fearful of a Rashemen invasion. And Naglatha knew full well what fear could drive one to do. Then there was Tharchion Dimon of Tyraturos. Loyal to SzassTam, he had become disillusioned with his faith and had recently embraced the Black Lord.

If he could lose his faith, Naglatha pondered, how hard would it be for him to lose his allegiance?

It was also no secret that there had been a falling out between the lich and Zulkir Mythrell'aa. She declared her neutrality, but Naglatha suspected she would be secretly pleased to be an instrument of the necromancer's downfall if a plan looked like it could succeed. And Tharchion Dmitra Flass was so enamored with herself and her husband that she rarely concerned herself with anything that happened outside the walls of the city that once imprisoned the demon-king Eltab.

When it comes right down to it, she mused to herself, Szass Tam was walking a fine line. How much would it really require now to knock him down?

Naglatha piled the parchments together and rubbed her eyes tiredly. She was more exhausted than she cared to acknowledge. But even though her body failed her at the moment, her mind was racing. It had been many years since Naglatha had dreamed of the birth of Thay. With all that she had been planning lately, she took the dream as a sign of things to come. She threw back her aching shoulders and shrugged off her fatigue. Now was the time for action as events aligned themselves. As a member of both the School of Illusion and Divination, Naglatha took her dreams very seriously, as they often contained portents of future events.

She was never more certain of that than she was at this moment.

Masking her stolen communiques much in the same manner she had the disguise of The Black Flame, Naglatha moved from the desk over to the more conventional wardrobe. Opening it, she regarded the huge selection of her clothes, all neatly arranged by type and style. Each garment had been carefully straightened after her long journey. Like her hair, this was another of the Red Wizard's vanities. In fact, she wouldn't even let her two servants attend to her wardrobe, save to carry her trunks into the room. Naglatha wanted no one to touch the things closest to her body. After a moment's consideration, she pulled out a fresh tunic and pants, made from the finest spun linen and as light as a feather. While the weather of Selgaunt had still been a trifle blustery and cool, it all changed predictably when she had crossed back over into Thay. One of the reasons the country remained so fertile and kept the local granaries fat and close to bursting was the machinations of the Red Wizards. Working in tandem was the biggest problem Naglatha could see them suffer from, but they had united long enough to spin a delicate web of spells that let the mild rains fall during the night, and kept the days warm but not uncomfortable. Perfect conditions for farming and pleasant for most day-to-day activities, she mused.

Neighboring Thesk paid for Thay's comfort with tempestuous turns in their own weather, but this did not concern the Red Wizards overly much; Thesk's climate was not their problem.

Naglatha dressed carefully, keeping her colors bland and her jewelry to a bare minimum. She could not shake the feeling that something important was going to occur today, and she did not want to call attention to herself. She wanted to blend in and observe, as she was so good at doing in Selgaunt.

When she was properly attired and coiffed, a process that took nearly an hour, Naglatha called for her two bodyguards. Silently, the men entered, and she could tell immediately that they had bathed and changed their garments per her orders. They knew better than to ignore her demands. But she preferred not to acknowledge that.

"I thought I made myself quite clear earlier," she cast a pointed glare at Heraclos, "that I wanted you to be clean." He looked down at his thin cotton trousers, tunic and robe for any stain or smudges and-finding neither that nor a garment askew-then looked back at her.

Naglatha enjoyed playing with him. She sauntered over and was even more pleased when he took a slight step back at her approach. She raised her hand to his cheeks and traced the path of his newest injury. She pulled her finger back and held it in front of his face. The pad of her index finger was red, and a single ruby drop dangled there. Naglatha brought it to her lips and licked her finger clean.

"Please do better next time," she warned him with a wicked smile.

"Yes, mistress," he replied and lowered his eyes.

"Now then," she addressed them both, eager to leave. "We cannot spend all day lounging about. Have you scouted out the locations I told you to?"

"Yes, lady," Milos replied. "A few of the taverns have changed hands since we were last here. I don't think the Weeping Slave will have what you are searching for as its clientele have run decidedly downhill," he added. He turned to Heraclos, and Naglatha could see that Milos was giving him a chance to gain back some favor in his mistress's eyes. Naglatha was always surprised with Milos' desire to grant second chances. She was certain that quality would be the end of him one day, and she dreaded having to break in yet another replacement.

"He is correct, Madame," Heraclos added, sounding eager to redeem himself. "That place caters to the lowest sort, mostly drunks and cripples, and they would be of no use. I think you would be well advised to check both Laeril's Arms and The Black Unicorn."

"Really?" she drawled. "And why is that?"

"It seems that Tbarchion Nymia Focar has raised the price of her little venture, and it's attracting sturdier, more adventurous types into Thay," he finished, seemingly pleased to have that bit of information to give her.

Naglatha was silent for a moment. She was well aware that the tharchions from here, Surthay, Gauros and Thazalhar had believed that there might exist a secret passage-buried somewhere in the nearby mountains-that led to the Endless Wastes beyond. Most thought it was only a foolish dream; not even a legend. Obviously, if such a passage did exist, trade might be diverted from the Golden Way, and whoever held that information would be powerful indeed. But Naglatha thought they had abandoned the search. If Nymia Focar was offering another reward, then she must have discovered a new piece of information. The woman loved the clink of coins and hated to part with them unless absolutely necessary or unless there was a sure thing. Naglatha decided this would bear watching, but also felt that the influx of outsiders here in Pyrados was most fortuitous. One more bit of information that Naglatha took as a favorable sign.

"Well then," she told her servants, "I'm suddenly very thirsty. Let's be on our way."

As she motioned to the eunuchs and followed them out, Naglatha felt her pulse quicken.

Today is the day, she thought to herself, more certain than ever.

Later That Afternoon

1 azi sipped at her ale. As was her habit, she had managed to secure a table toward the back of the tavern. The strategy afforded her two things: a certain amount of privacy and the ability to observe almost everyone else in the room. It was something she picked up from the man she could only think of as her mentor; there was no other word to describe him adequately. She had learned many lessons in her life and most had come atsa cost. However, Tazi valued all of them. For only having lived twenty-four years, she had already paid a high price for her life.

Located on the outskirts of Pyrados, the tavern catered mostly to outsiders like her. Tazi, who had secured a room upstairs after her return from the Sunrise Mountains, had spent little time in Thay proper and was now eager to return home. When she arrived in the country, she only lingered in the city long enough to obtain the appropriate permits for her foray into the mountains. Tazi hadn't wanted to pay, but she had received information from a reliable source that her trip would go that much smoother if she played by the rules. She had grudgingly handed over a fee that was practically thievery in itself for the authorization. But Tazi had passed through the garrison stationed in the foothills of the Sunrise Mountains with little trouble once she showed them her officially endorsed traveling permit.

"Coin always smoothes the way," her father had liked to say. Sometimes he had been right.

Since returning, Tazi had packed away her woolen mountaineering clothes for more familiar ones. Upon entering Pyrados, the mild temperatures made her other attire heavy, itchy and unnecessary. She now sported snug black pants with a matching vest, and boots laced up to her calves-all made from the finest leathers. Her hair hung loose, brushing her shoulders. She left her arms bare but wore short gloves and an armband that had her favorite lock pick secreted inside. From a wealthy family, Tazi only dressed like this in the seediest quarters around Selgaunt. Where she found herself now fit that bill adequately. Surreptitiously peering over the rim of her mug, Tazi scanned the room and its patrons.

Laeril's Arms, as the tavern was named, had a motley crew of customers. Though Tazi had studied only the bare necessities of Thay's customs and history, she definitely got the sense that Thayans didn't tolerate foreigners very much or for very long. The Tharchion of Pyrados, to Tazi's good fortune, didn't hold the same prejudices. Or if she did, Tazi surmised, gold helped her look past them, and that went for the store owners as well. Tazi had nearly screamed at the price she was quoted at a local shop to replace the coil of rope she had been forced to abandon on her most recent escapade. Coming from a city of trade, she was used to bartering, but that was not an option here. The shopkeepers knew they were the only game in town and happily fleeced everyone who needed to purchase supplies. She had paid the fee, hating to be without her usual equipment, but had muttered some choice oaths while she handed over the coin. The sallow-faced shop keeper simply smiled and took her gold. He had obviously heard worse.

To her left, two women were deep in discussion. By the light of the fat candle in the center of the table, Tazi saw that one was completely bald with an extensive range of tattoos along her skull and shoulders. The other, who had a thick crop of black hair, appeared to be much shorter than her companion, though it was hard to tell for certain while they were both seated. The one with the dark hair was dressed nearly as fine as the first, but Tazi could see that the bald woman regarded the other with a touch of disdain. Between them stood a young man and, judging by his slight build and stature, Tazi suspected that he had some el-ven blood in him. While most folk of Selgaunt despised elves, Tazi had always had a soft spot for them. Her father did too, as it turned out. A few months past, she had been shocked to discover she had a half sister who had elven blood in her veins. Life continued to throw surprises at her, but, as Tazi took another swig of her ale, most were less and less pleasant lately.

The bald woman finally tossed a small sack onto the table, toward the black-haired woman. Payment, Tazi deduced. It was only then that she noticed the elf had on a collar and a fine leash. The black-haired woman smiled to her customer and turned to the young man. She yanked so hard on his tether that she brought the elf crashing to his knees. Then she handed the leash over to the bald woman. Tazi watched, sickened, as the bald woman placed her foot upon his back and forced him to prostrate himself on the filthy tavern floor. The gaunt, bald woman regarded the other, and the two women exchanged a hearty laugh. Tazi pursed her lips and turned away. Her knuckles turned white as she clenched her mug fiercely.

Slavery, she thought with great disgust.

Closer to the bar, a group comprised mostly of humans had commandeered a large oak table. Piled on top were various supplies. Tazi could see some mountaineering equipment in addition to spelunking gear laid out. A young woman with thick, golden braids and an upturned nose was arguing heatedly with a young man about the correct way to use one of their lantern helmets. Tazi had to lower her face to keep from laughing out loud because the girl had it on backward. But Tazi could see the young man was too enamored with her to point out her mistake. And she could overhear another talking about just needing one or two more things before they left for the Sunrise Mountains.

You'd better add a pack animal to your shopping list, she thought to herself, because there is no way you four are going to be able to carry all that on your own. You'll learn, though. Tazi shook her head and wondered how anyone survived to adulthood, watching them. And she also wondered, sadly, when she had gotten so old.

The fourth member of their team was leaning against the bar, Tazi noted, talking to the same old woman Tazi had before her foray into the mountains. Obviously, the old woman spent her days here, selling the same bits of information over and over again. At least, mused Tazi, the information had been mostly useful, so perhaps the intrepid band had a small chance of success. She shifted her gaze away, however, when the man who had been pumping the old woman for directions looked her way.

A light haze drifted up as the few, regular patrons lit pipes and started in on their serious drinking. The smoke started to blur her view, and Tazi found herself thinking of the inn in Selgaunt where she kept a secret room. ThЈ owners of the Kit had treated her like a daughter, and Tazi realized she missed the place. Caught up in a flash of homesickness, she turned her gaze toward the far corner of the bar and almost gasped out loud. Standing in the shadows of the support timbers was a tall man dressed entirely in black. Taller than most humans, he appeared almost awkward in his movements, as though he was a touch uncomfortable with his long body. And in the fading daylight, Tazi could see he was completely bald. She unconsciously raised a hand to her open mouth.

How could he be here, she thought in wonder, of all places?

Starting to rise and grinning in spite of herself, Tazi saw that he was getting ready to leave. He paid the barkeep and turned toward the door. His actions afforded Tazi with a full view of his face. Like the woman who had purchased the slave, this man bore an elaborate design on his forehead. It was not the face Tazi expected and half-hoped to see. She sank back down into her chair, unaware that she had even started to stand. Not him, she thought. Not Cale…

Several months ago, her mentor had taken his leave of the Uskevren family. Circumstances had really left him no choice. Tazi had found that she didn't know how she felt about it all. She had recently grown closer to Steorf, the mage-in-training she had traveled to Calimport with, and thought very little of Cale while she had been gone. On her return home, all hell had broken loose. And, in those ashes, she had discovered that Cale had loved her all along. Tazi was torn as her emotions raged. She rejected his initial confession of love as something selfish, but she found that when it came time for his departure, she couldn't leave it that way between them. She knew, and she suspected Cale did too, that there would always be something unspoken between them. It was only when he was gone that Tazi discovered what she had been truly angry about: wasted time and wasted chances. Caught up in her daydream, she didn't notice that the Thayan she had been staring at did not appear to appreciate her attentions.

A squat barmaid with a dusky complexion and black hair moved over to Tazi's table with a rag. She wiped down the small table and checked on the level of Tazi's drink. Seeing that Tazi needed a refill, the barmaid reached over and plucked the mug from her unresisting fingers.

"Want another?"

When Tazi didn't answer immediately, the woman followed her gaze to the Thayan who was still lingering at the bar. He was starting to glower back at Tazi, but she was a thousand leagues away. The barmaid shook her head and leaned closer, as if she was taking an order.

"Listen, dearie," she spoke in a conspiratorial whisper, "you don't want to be doin' that."

"What?" Tazi finally asked, partially breaking off her daydream.

"You can't just stare at them of Mulan blood. You're beneath their station, and you don't want to make them angry at you."

"Why not?" Tazi disked in a half-interested tone.

"Because," the woman told her, "if they decide they don't like you or something you did, it's off to the magistrate you go. And you're done for."

"Thanks for the suggestion," Tazi replied. "But why bother yourself over me? " Tazi was leery of advice she hadn't solicited or paid for.

The flat-chested barmaid sighed. "Because you seem like an all right sort. You've paid your bills and haven't smashed the place up as so many of your kind do. And I think you're the sort that if you're not careful, you fall into trouble. In fact," she said, scrutinizing Tazi carefully, "you look like the kind that trouble just plain follows. And I'd prefer that it follows you somewhere else and not in my father's place. Another round?"

Tazi nodded numbly, the words "father's place" ringing in her ears, as the barmaid walked away. She slipped back into the past-to the day she left her father's place to come here. Tazi's gear had also been spread out on her bed, much like the youngsters' at the inn, as she conducted a last inventory. Counting off crampons, Tazi was startled at Steorfs unannounced entrance.

"Where are you going?" he had demanded.

"To do what I have to," Tazi had replied in a clipped tone. Her hackles had risen immediately at his intrusion. Just because she and the blond-haired mage had grown closer did not mean that they shared a bed, regardless of what others thought. And Tazi had not given him free run of her private rooms.

"You're going to follow him, aren't you?" he accused her. Tazi noticed that Steorf avoided using Cale's name whenever possible.

"No, I'm not," she answered more softly when she realized he was acting out of jealously.

"Then why won't you let me come with you?" he asked, calming himself down as well.

"Because this is something I have to do for myself," she had told him honestly. "Please understand that. Besides," she had joked in an effort to lighten the somber mood, "you have studies to complete."

"They don't matter anymore," he had said darkly. Tazi had frowned at his words a little. Since they had returned from Calimport, she had noticed he was quieter than he had ever been. And there were times she felt certain he was hiding something from her. She had resolved then that when she returned from Thay, she was going to find out what was going on. But she had to come to Thay before all else.

"Well, that may be, but I have to go alone. It's the only way to make it right," was all she had offered him by way of an explanation. She recalled how his steel-gray eyes had softened at her entreaty.

"I'm not sure exactly what you mean," he had replied, "but I think I understand. Would you do me one favor, though?"

She had moved to stand next to his large frame and had looked up into his eyes. "If I can, I will," she had promised.

"Wear this and think of me." Before Tazi could say or do anything, Steorf had fastened a thin, silver chain around her neck. Tazi craned her head down to get a better look at the unexpected gift.

Dangling on the end of the delicate necklace was a shard of an amethyst gem. The stone was all that Tazi had left to remind her of her fateful journey to Calimport and of the friend she had sacrificed there for a greater good.

"How did you get this?" she had wondered in amazement. "I've kept it locked up ever since we returned."

For the first time since entering her rooms, Steorf looked slightly pleased. "You're not the only accomplished thief," he reminded her, "or have you forgotten some of my other skills?"

Tazi had smiled up at him. "It's lovely," she whispered. "But it looks so fragile. Maybe I should leave it here."

Steorf placed his large hand over the stone and against Tazi's throat. "Don't worry," he had assured her, "I've seen to it that the chain won't fail." He ran his finger along the edge of the silver. "It's much like you. It looks delicate, but it is as strong as forged steel."

Smiling, Tazi played with the chain unconsciously as she sat at her table, unaware of the fetching picture she presented. The young man who had been gathering information nodded to the old barfly and approached Tazi's table.

"Successful?" he inquired as he sat down opposite Tazi.

"Excuse me?" Tazi demanded, perturbed that her daydream had been interrupted and that he dared to sit down uninvited.

The young man was undaunted by her sharp tone.

"You have the look of a cat that's swallowed the song bird," he told her.

Even through her irritation, Tazi could see the young man was pleased with his turn of a phrase.

"I do, do I?"

"Well," he added and brushed some of his auburn hair away from his face. Tazi could see he had a scar along one cheek. "As I understand it, you've just returned from the Sunrise Mountains."

"And how do you know that?" Tazi asked, playing with him a bit and knowing full well the crone had sold her out.

"My informants are well connected," he replied sagely.

"Your informants are everybody's informants for enough coin," Tazi shot back at him. She noted he had the good sense to look somewhat abashed.

"Never mind that," he tried to change his tack. "My name is Gaed Attimthree, and I have an offer to make you." He studied her earnestly with his hazel eyes.

"And what might that be?" Tazi asked, enjoying the game in spite of herself. She leaned forward expectantly. The young man became flustered under her scrutiny.

"My friends and I," he motioned half-heartedly in the direction of the mountain of gear, "are getting ready to travel the road you've just returned from. You may have heard of Tharchion Nymia Focar's generous offer for the path through the mountains to the Endless Wastes. My companions and I are certain we can find it, and we would gladly share a portion of the reward with you."

"Then why do you need me? You'd only have to cut the pot more?"

"As you can see, my friends and I are well supplied. We don't like to take any chances, and I would be a fool to pass up the opportunity to have someone with me who was as experienced as you obviously are."

Tazi smirked at his lame attempt at flattery. "It's obvious that you are well prepared," she answered and suppressed a chuckle at his ineptness, "with the finest supplies that coin can buy. You don't need to buy me."

"I didn't mean…" he trailed off helplessly.

"No offence taken," she told him, "but I'm not interested."

"I understand," he finally replied. "Since this is our last night before we leave, perhaps I could buy you another drink and you might share some of your travels with me. Any detail would be helpful." And Tazi noticed a shift in his look.

"I'm fine. Besides, these days I travel alone, and I prefer it that way," she told him and motioned her mug toward her mouth. She hoped her tone would indicate that as far as she was concerned, the interview was over. But the hazel-eyed man just leaned in.

"If it's too crowded here," he said softly, "we could go up to my rooms. I could give you my undivided attention." He tilted his head.

Tazi sat straighter and replied more forcefully, "I don't think so." The young man obviously fancied himself a ladies' man.

"No?" he asked.

Tazi smiled sweetly and let her hand fall to her boot. Just as the would-be suitor leaned in even closer to her, Tazi brought back her hand with lightning speed. When her fist reappeared, she had a knife in it.

Balancing the point of her razor-sharp dagger on her index finger, Tazi bounced the mean weapon from one finger to the next, all the while staring at the young adventurer.

His face paled so suddenly that Tazi could see a smattering of freckles across his nose stand out in sharp contrast. Whether it was her easy proficiency with the small blade or the hard glint in her eye, he finally got the message.

"I understand," he said as he hastily rose to feet. "No means no." And as he scurried back over to his friends, Tazi laughed.

She leaned her chair back against the wall and slid her blade back in place. As she continued to sip her ale, she glanced around the room. Judging by the furtive looks that met hers and the quickly downcast eyes, Tazi was certain she had made her point. She was sure that no one else would trouble her this evening. However, Tazi didn't notice the pair of coal-black eyes that remained steady and gleamed with interest.

Naglatha was finally impressed. For the last hour, she and her two boayguards had been observing the inn's customers. They had stopped at The Black Unicorn first, but Naglatha had been disappointed beyond words by the dismal selection of potential candidates. She had verbally abused both of her Thayan Knights for their ineptitude in reconnaissance. By the time they reached Laeril's Arms, she was certain she was not the only one who had a vested interest in success; the servants now knew they would pay a steep price if there was no better luck at this tavern.

Located at a table against the wall opposite from Tazi, Naglatha had initially only caught glimpses of the woman during her survey of the tavern. She first noticed Tazi's black hair. She would never admit it, but Naglatha was a vain creature, and when she met or observed another woman, she always looked to her hair first. It stemmed from the fact that most Thayan women of Mulan heritage were bald or artificially devoid of hair. Only slaves were not allowed to cut their tresses. Even the Thayans of Rashemi extraction cropped their locks as close to their scalp as possible to separate themselves from the enormous slave population. So, Naglatha's interest was piqued when she saw another woman with long, black hair that was clean and healthy like hers. Of course, she thought, it's not as long as mine.

The other aspect that initially intrigued Naglatha was that the woman sat by herself. And she didn't sit like someone waiting for another person to join her; she sat alone but not lonely. Naglatha had made herself a mental note-the woman bore watching. But, in the course of her perusals, not many of the other patrons appeared very promising. They all looked too young and too inexperienced. Eventually, she had turned her attention back toward the black-haired girl, who appeared to be a bit younger than she was, just in time to see her handiness with the tiny dagger.

"Subtle, discreet, and she gets her message across with minimal effort or show," she whispered approvingly to Milos Longreach. Naglatha tried to get a better look at the woman, shifting her head from one side to the other, endeavoring to see past the regulars seated in front of her.

After a few more moments, the customers finished their drinks and left, affording Naglatha with her first, unrestricted view of the young woman. Naglatha nearly gasped out loud. What she discovered was totally unexpected. She knew the woman. Though Naglatha was no mathematician, she was aware that the chances of that were almost astronomical. She couldn't stop her thoughts traveling back to earlier in the day and her dream of Thay's creation.

"To have had that dream," she murmured, "and to discover her here, with all the ramifications that this discovery heralds, is not possible. Unless this is exactly how it is supposed to happen."

"Mistress?" Milos questioned. Naglatha was not normally given to randomly speaking aloud, so she forgave him his impropriety.

"It is nothing," she assured him, and she beckoned to her younger bodyguard.

"Heraclos," she said softly, "I need your assistance."

"Anything," he replied properly, "and everything at your wish." The instructions that followed were inaudible to everyone else but Heraclos. She spoke so softly, she was sure even Milos was not able to hear her words. Heraclos nodded quickly, and Naglatha knew he would do his best to fulfill them. Naglatha repositioned herself in her chair, arms folded, and smiled wickedly. What was about to happen next was critical.

Her bodyguard made his way across the large, poorly lit room and stopped a few feet short of Tazi's small table. Naglatha placed one finger against her lower lip and watched the scene unfold with growing excitement. She could see Heraclos motion to the empty seat opposite Tazi and say something. The woman declined to let him join, as Naglatha knew she would. After all, she had made it clear to all those around her that she was unavailable. Then Heraclos leaned in closer, placing his hand under Tazi's chin, and Naglatha leaned forward in her chair out of anticipation. Heraclos tilted Tazi's head up slightly. His face was only a few inches from the woman's ear, and Naglatha had a good notion of the offer he was making. In fact, she had suggested a few descriptives she knew were guaranteed to provoke any woman, whether they were barmaid or noble. In the ruddy glow of the candle on her table, Tazi's face twisted in anger. Naglatha had to hold back a laugh. It was perfect.

Tazi reacted as if on cue. As soon as Heraclos propositioned Tazi, Naglatha watched her hand drop to her boot once more. Faster than anyone could follow, Tazi had the blade unsheathed and under Heraclos's chin with deadly precision. Naglatha saw, from her vantage point, that Tazi had even drawn blood. That was the signal she had given Heraclos to move forward.

"You dare strike me?" Heraclos demanded indignantly.

Before the first drop of his blood hit Tazi's grimy table, Heraclos had shrugged off his expensive cloak and revealed a large scimitar sheathed at his waist. He drew it with deadly precision. Naglatha saw that he wasted no time. With incredible force, he brought the sword screaming down at Tazi, splitting the oak table right down the center. At the same time, Tazi pushed away from the splintered table, crashing with her chair to the floor. She used her momentum to summersault backward and away from Heraclos's imminent threat. When she rose to her feat, Tazi had one of her Sembian guardblades withdrawn.

Heraclos pivoted and swung his blade with both hands. Tazi parried the blow. At the sound of crashing steel, the other patrons had stopped their activities and turned to watch the excitement. Naglatha was quite sure that it was not the first time a brawl of this nature had erupted here. In fact, her own table leg looked as though it had only been recently repaired. She suspected the break had nothing to do with the heavy food they served at the tavern.

Heraclos easily outweighed her by over a hundred pounds, and Naglatha was curious to see how Tazi handled herself against a larger opponent who had the advantage of surprise on his side. Her bodyguard did not give Tazi a moment to catch her breath. While Naglatha knew he lacked the finesse and overall skill that Milos possessed with the scimitar, he never tired in his assaults. Each of her two servants had his strengths, and they were learning to work together over time. Naglatha considered sending the older bodyguard into the fray as well, but she knew they didn't have much time. Fights as destructive as this one was shaping up to be invariably brought the attention of the local enforcers. Naglatha could see some of the tavern's clients leaving already, some afraid to be around when the reinforcements arrived.

A cowardly lot, Naglatha reflected disgustedly, and not a single one of you raise your hand to help the girl. Naglatha even thought she saw the auburn-haired man that Tazi had so eloquently rejected smile at her misfortune as he gathered his companions and geaf and hastily retreated up the wide staircase that led to the rooms above. Fools, she thought.

Tazi matched each of Heraclos's blows, but Naglatha could see that her bodyguard was forcing Tazi back. The two knocked over tables and chairs in their deadly ballet, but Tazi never cried out once for aid. Naglatha suspected the girl wouldn't as, technically, she had started the fracas. You take care of your own problems, don't you? Naglatha deduced. Good.

Heraclos forced Tazi toward the stairs with a series of blows that grew in intensity. It was clearly visible to Naglatha that her candidate was tiring. She appeared so fatigued that she was unaware of her surroundings and tripped on the wide stairs behind her. Tazi fell back onto the staircase and lost her sword. Heraclos raised his scimitar high overhead and swung the huge blade whistling down. Naglatha momentarily thought she might have to interview another candidate until Tazi hugged herself and rolled quickly to her right. The force of Heraclos's swing was so strong, his blade became momentarily embedded in the stairs.

Tazi used the opportunity, as she lay stretched out on the steps, to kick savagely at his knee. The blow was enough to topple Heraclos, and it gave Tazi the chance to bolt up and rush past him. By the time he had recovered his feet and his blade, Tazi had retrieved hers as well and the duel continued.

With all the patrons gone, they had the run of the bar. Naglatha watched as Tazi, who must have found her second wind, danced around Heraclos. She jumped onto chairs and swung around support timbers, making good use of whatever shields she could find to block his powerful arm. Resourceful, Naglatha said to herself, and she was more certain than ever that this woman was the one she needed.

Heraclos's color rose in his face, and Naglatha suspected it was not just because of the physical exertion of the swordfight. He was becoming enraged at the girl who spun around him and was still standing despite his best efforts. What expertise he had mastered was evidently lost under his growing anger. Naglatha saw that his attacks were becoming more bullish. He was relying on his strength alone, a shortcoming Naglatha had pointed out to him on more than one occasion.

His pendulous swings forced Tazi to back peddle toward Naglatha and her other bodyguard. Naglatha nodded to Milos, and they made an expedient retreat behind the bar. Heraclos continued to push Tazi back to the now-abandoned table in the corner. She rolled backward along the length of the table and landed on the floor in front of Naglatha's empty chair. Heraclos leaped onto the tabletop and stomped his way to the end where Tazi was crouching. Naglatha saw the woman look around and suddenly smile a lopsided grin. She kicked out at the mended leg, which gave way at once. As the table listed to one corner, Heraclos lost his balance. He dropped his scimitar as his arms pinwheeled about in a frantic attempt to keep his footing. It was no use, and he crashed back full length onto the table. He was dazed and breathless. Tazi did not waste the chance.

She braced her left hand against the cockeyed table and placed the tip of her blade up under his chin with the other. Breathing hard, Tazi cocked back her sword arm but then stopped. Naglatha was prepared to lose the bodyguard as an unfortunate business expense; however, she was surprised at her candidate's lack of action at that point. Naglatha could see hesitation cross Tazi's features, and she deduced that killing did not come easy to the raven-tressed woman. It was something to note.

Before Tazi was forced to make a decision, a small garrison of the tharchion's guards burst into the tavern. The five well-equipped men rushed over to Tazi and Heraclos. Two of them seized Tazi, each grabbing one arm and pulled her away from the prostrate servant. Naglatha smiled at Tazi's shock as they yanked her roughly to the bar. She argued with them and struggled. Naglatha was certain that if they had arrived earlier, Tazi would have put up a better fight, but she was clearly winded now. They slammed her against the bar and pinned her there while their comrades helped Heraclos to his feet. Naglatha's other bodyguard used the commotion to retrieve and secret Heraclos's fallen scimitar.

"I was defending myself," Tazi sputtered to her captors. Naglatha smirked at her distress. "He left me no choice."

"Shut yer mouth," one of the guards snarled back at her.

"I have a right," she demanded. "Ask that woman over there," Tazi demanded and nodded in Naglatha's direction. "She saw the whole thing."

Naglatha slowly walked over to the captain of the tharchion's garrison, who was standing a few feet in front of Tazi. The other two guards had walked Hera-clos back over to Milos, and they remained stationed there. Naglatha could see Tazi's face brighten as she turned to look first to the guard on her right and the one on her left with a certain amount of smug satisfaction. It was obvious she was certain Naglatha's testimony would absolve her of blame. As she looked toward the Red Wizard incognito, Naglatha returned her smile warmly.

"Milady," the captain addressed her, "what has transpired here?"

Naglatha lookejd at Tazi and watched the captive woman stand straighter in expectation. She turned to the captain and replied, "I am glad that you and your men arrived when you did. This was an extremely unfortunate situation and entirely my fault." She paused and regarded Tazi once more. She could see the younger woman's confidence grow.

"I had been warned about the types that frequent establishments like these, but I was certain I would not have trouble since I was accompanied by my servants. As you can see," Naglatha paused and pointed to Heraclos and Milos, "my eunuchs are hardly a match for anyone, unarmed and so obviously out-of — shape as they are."

"What?" Tazi shouted, and the guard who had warned her to be silent struck her in the mouth.

"Milady," the captain responded, "I am only sorry we could not have arrived before your property was damaged. We will see to it that this ruffian is properly punished." Then he tipped his head deferentially to Naglatha and turned in militaristic fashion toward his men.

"Take her," he ordered. The men restraining Tazi started to drag her toward the main door. She pulled at her captors as they hauled her away, and she twisted her torso to look back at Naglatha.

"That's not how it happened," she shouted at the Red Wizard.

As they yanked her out the doorway, Naglatha waved farewell sweetly to the furious woman.

"Just perfect," she whispered.