Nymia and Aoth dropped to their knees and lowered their gazes.
"Rise," said Szass Tam, "and seat yourselves at the table."
"Is that necessary?" Lallara rapped. "I'm not pleased with the tharchion, and her lieutenant doesn't even wear red. By the looks of him, he isn't even Mulan."
"It will make it easier for us all to converse," the lich replied, "and if we see fit to punish them later, I doubt that the fact that we allowed them to sit down first will dilute the effect." His black eyes shifted back to Nymia and Aoth, and he waved a shriveled hand at two vacant chairs. "Please."
Aoth didn't want to sit or do anything else that might elicit Lallara's displeasure, but neither, of course, could he disobey Szass Tam. Feeling trapped, he pulled the chair out and winced inwardly when the legs grated on the floor.
"Now, then," said Szass Tam, "with the gracious permission of His Omniscience"-he inclined his head to Iphegor Nath-"I called you all here to address the situation in Tharchion Focar's dominions. It's serious, or so I've been given to understand."
"Yet evidently not serious enough," the High Flamelord drawled, "to warrant an assembly of all eight zulkirs. To some, it might even appear that you, Your Omnipotence, wanted to meet here in the temple instead of your own citadel to avoid the notice of those you chose to exclude."
Yaphyll smiled a mischievous smile. "Perhaps it was purely out of respect for you, Your Omniscience. We came to you rather than put you to the inconvenience of coming to us."
Iphegor snorted. Blue flame oozed from his hand onto the tabletop, and he squashed it out with a fingertip before it could char the finish.
"You're correct, of course," Szass Tam told the priest. "Regrettably, we zulkirs fall into two camps, divided by our differing perspectives on trade and other issues, and of late, our squabbles have grown particularly contentious, perhaps even to the point of assassination. That makes it slow going to accomplish anything when we all attempt to work together, and since this particular problem is urgent, I thought a more efficient approach was required."
"Besides which," Iphegor said, "if you resolve the problem without involving your peers, you'll reap all the benefits of success. The nobles and such will be that much more inclined to give their support to you in preference to Aznar Thrul's cabal."
"Just so," said Samas Kul in a plummy, unctuous voice. "You've demonstrated you're a shrewd man, Your Omniscience, not that any of us ever imagined otherwise. The question is, if we score a hit in the game we're playing with our rivals, will that trouble or displease you?"
"It might," the primate said. "By convening here in the Flaming Brazier and including me among your company, you've made me your collaborator. Now it's possible I'll have to contend with the rancor of your opponents."
"Yet you agreed to meet with us," Lallara said.
Iphegor shrugged. "I was curious, I hoped something would come of it to benefit the faith, and I too understand that Pyarados needs immediate attention."
"Masters!" Nymia said. All eyes shifted to her, and she faltered as if abruptly doubting the wisdom of speaking unbidden, but now that she'd started, she had no choice but to continue. "With all respect, you speak as if Pyarados is lost, and that isn't so. The undead seized one minor fortress and won one additional battle."
"With the result," snapped Lallara, "that they're now devastating your tharch and could easily range farther west to trouble the entire plateau."
"The ghouls have overrun a few farms," Nymia insisted, the sweat on her face gleaming in the firelight. "I still hold Pyarados,"-Aoth realized she was referring specifically to the capital city of her province-"and I've sent to Tharchion Daramos for assistance. He's bringing fresh troops from Thazalhar."
Yaphyll smiled. "Milsantos Daramos is a fine soldier, a winning soldier, and Thazalhar is too small and sparsely populated for a proper tharch. I wonder if it might not be a good idea to merge it and Pyarados into a single territory and give the old fellow authority over both."
Nymia blanched. "I beg you for one more chance-"
Szass Tam silenced her by holding up his hand. "Let's not rush ahead of ourselves. I'd like to hear a full account of the events in the east before we decide what to do about them."
"Aoth Fezim," Nymia said, "is the only man to survive the fall of Thazar Keep. For that reason, I brought him to tell the first part of the story."
Aoth related it as best he could, without trying to inflate his own valor or importance. He made sure, though, that the others understood he'd fled only when the castellan had ordered it and not out of cowardice.
Then Nymia told of the battle at the west end of the pass, justifying her defeat as best she could. That involved explaining that forms of undead had appeared whose existence Aoth had not reported and that neither he nor the other scouts had noticed the creatures swimming beneath the surface of the river. The griffon rider wasn't sure if she was actually implying that he was responsible for everything that had gone wrong or if it was simply his trepidation that made it seem that way.
When she finished, Szass Tam studied Aoth's face. "Do you have anything to add to your commander's account?" he asked.
Partly out of pride, partly because he was all but certain it would only move the zulkirs to scorn, Aoth resisted the urge to offer excuses. "No, Your Omnipotence. That's the way it happened."
The lich nodded. "Well, obviously, victorious soldiers inspire more trust than defeated ones, yet I wouldn't call either of you incompetent, and I don't see a benefit to replacing you with warriors who lack experience fighting this particular incursion. I'm inclined to keep you in your positions for the time being at least, provided, of course, that everyone else is in accord." He glanced about at the other zulkirs.
As Aoth expected, none of the others took exception to their faction leader's opinion, though Lallara's assent had a sullen quality to it. Rumor had it that, willful, erratic, and unpredictable, she was less firmly of the lich's party than the faithful Yaphyll and was something of a creative artist in the field of torture as well. Perhaps she'd been looking forward to inflicting some ingeniously gruesome chastisement on Nymia, her subordinate, or both.
"Now that I've heard Tharchion Focar's report," Iphegor said, "I understand what's happening but not why. I'd appreciate it if someone could enlighten me on that point." He turned his smoldering gaze on Yaphyll. "Perhaps you, Your Omnipotence, possess some useful insights."
Aoth understood why the high priest had singled her out. She was, after all, the zulkir of Divination. Uncovering secrets was her particular art.
She gave the High Flamelord a rueful, crooked smile. "You shame me, Your Omniscience. I can repeat the same speculations we've already passed back and forth until our tongues are numb: We're facing an unpleasantness that one of the vanished kingdoms of the Sunrise Mountains left behind. Despite the best efforts of my order, I can't tell you precisely where the undead horde originated or why it decided to strike at this particular time. You're probably aware that, for better or worse, it's difficult to use divination to find out about anything occurring in central Thay. Jealous of their privacy, too many wizards have cast enchantments to deflect such efforts. When my subordinates and I try to investigate the undead raiders, we meet with the same sort of resistance, as if they have similar wards in place."