The Crimson Gold

Epilogue

10th Kythorn 1373 DR

Tazi was lost in the shadows. There was no longer any pain. The severe burning of her flesh had eased and cold night was everywhere. She realized she had never known such peace before this moment, alone in the dark. The rage that had boiled inside her had also faded to only a whisper. And somewhere in the blackness, a voice sighed. She could almost understand the words.

"Tazi." She finally did hear her name and somehow managed to swim up from the icy depths to consciousness.

"Hmmm…" she sighed and stretched her body slowly, reveling in the feeling of comfort. Her eyelids fluttered open and, at first, she didn't know where she was. Tazi could make out that she was in a darkened room, lying in a large bed, covered by a heavy, satin coverlet.

Her head rested atop several down pillows. She was confused but not frightened. Her mind raced as she tried to remember what had happened. She placed a smooth, white hand against her forehead and rubbed her temples with her thumb and fingers.

Her face felt cool and uninjured. What happened to the burns? She raked her hands through her hair, and not only were there no longer any wounds on her scalp, her hair was thick again, and it was as long as it had been before her father died.

She threw the coverlet from the bed and saw that she wore a sleeveless nightgown of amethyst silk with a plunging neckline. But what was startling was that she could very easily see, through the near-transparent material, that she was whole again. There were no longer any burns or wounds anywhere along the length of her body. Nor did she feel the fever in her mind that had raged there since she had immersed herself in the alchemical blood. It seemed her bond to the Blooded Ones had been severed by their death in the volcano. Tazi was stunned. A soft cough startled her, and she looked about the room for the source. A shadow separated itself from the wall and moved toward the bed.

"Justikar," Tazi said and didn't hide the pleasure in her voice. She could see he had cleaned up. The soot and grime from the past few days had been scrubbed away, and he no longer wore the foolish, jade-colored shirt that Naglatha had forced him to wear. He wore new trousers and a tunic made of home-spun cloth, both in shades of the earth.

They suited him, she thought. What hair he had was combed and he had re-plaited his beard. He also, Tazi noted, carried a bundle wrapped in a ruby-red velvet cloak.

"Don't get all worked up," he said, raising his free hand in warning. "I knew you'd get it wrong and think I had stayed here for the last few days in some sort of vigil by your bedside like a lovelorn suitor."

"Last few days?" Tazi asked and a frown crossed her delicate features. Her memories were fuzzy, frayed around the edges, and she was startled at her lost time.

"Well," the duergar added with the slightest hint of gentleness in his voice, "I expect you'd be a bit muddled after what you went through. When I carried you back to the Citadel after I was certain the crater was truly sealed off, I figured you were dead, as burned as you were."

Tazi nodded and remembered her final confrontation with the demon-king. Burned severely along her right side, more than half her flesh had been charred beyond healing. She had closed her eyes after she knew Eltab was gone and had been ready for death.

"I should be dead," she murmured.

The dwarf nodded. "And you probably would be if it hadn't been for the necromancer."

"What do you mean?" Tazi asked as she sat back against the pillows-though in her heart, she already knew the answer.

"Oh, don't worry," he told her gruffly, "you're not one of his undead. But I wouldn't be too sure he wouldn't have raised you for his own if you had died.

"When I approached the Citadel, he must have been watching from one of his perches. He swooped down right away, and I swear there was genuine sorrow on his face when he saw what a pitiful sight you were. He took you from my arms and brought you to a chamber lower down that had somehow survived the quakes intact."

"And?" she prodded him, but somewhere in the recess of her mind, Tazi saw images and flashes of herself on a cold slab as the skeletal lich worked and conjured over her. She felt, more than she saw, that the lich had cooled the rage that burned within her as well as her ravaged flesh. Tazi squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head a little, wondering what it had taken for a necromancer to heal a living being.

"You all right?" Justikar asked and reached out to her.

"Fine," she lied. "Go on."

"It took longer than he thought, because you were so far gone," the duergar explained. "And because the burns destroyed so much of your tissue, he said there wasn't much to work with. But I'll give that skeleton his due, because he didn't give up on you. I sure had," he added sincerely.

"That's why you brought me back instead of leaving me on the battlefield," she pointed out to the sour dwarf. He squirmed uncomfortably, and Tazi saved him from added embarrassment by immediately asking, "What's that tucked under your arm?"

"You're not the only one to receive a gift from the lich," he said simply. Justikar laid the swaddled bundle onto the bed with great care. He pulled back the material to reveal several ivory bones.

"My brother Adnama. Or, rather, what's left of him. After Tam was certain you were going to live, he had a slave bring the bundle to me. He said that it was a reward for my service to the Thayan people. Instead of raising him up as some dead thing to serve in his significantly smaller army, I could take his remains." The duergar became silent.

Tazi knew how much Justikar had wanted to find his brother and the hell he had put himself through for the quest. Now, to know he was truly dead had to be bittersweet. She gently laid her hand on the gray one that rested on the bones. Their eyes met briefly and something silent passed between them.

The dwarf then shrugged off her hand like it wasn't there, wrapped his precious cargo back up, and stored the package in a leather sack he had near the chair. She looked over and saw that he also had a walking stick and his stolen war axe stacked near the doorway.

"Now what will you do?" she asked him.

Justikar paused from his packing and looked at her for a moment before replying, "Follow in his footsteps, I suppose. I don't really have a choice now that he's gone. We're a dying race, and as I was so recently reminded," he paused with a wink to her, "there is definitely safety and power in numbers. I'll keep searching for our kind. They've got to be down there somewhere."

Tazi pulled up her knees and wrapped her unblemished arms around them. She watched as he made a final check of his gear and slung the pack and the war axe onto his strong back. He walked over to the door to collect his walking stick, and Tazi thought that he was simply going to walk out without another word. But he surprised her and turned to look at her a final time.

"Just so there is no misunderstanding between us," he told her, "should we meet up again, make no mistake. We are not friends. And if our paths do cross again," he warned her, "I can guarantee you that the circumstances will not be pleasant."

Tazi swung her legs off the bed. "And these were pleasant?" she quipped. She placed her feet on the ground and slowly rose, testing her legs experimentally. She realized she needn't have bothered because they were unscathed.

She padded across the thick carpeting to the drawn curtains on the far side of the room. Hesitantly, she grabbed the heavy drapes and wrapped her fingers in their velvet softness. She steeled herself and drew them back to let sunlight stream into the dark room.

In the bright morning light, Tazi had an unrestricted view of the slopes of the Thaymount. Steam still slowly rose from the lava flow that had obviously cooled considerably. It was no longer an angry red, but a dull charcoal gray, and it stretched as far as Tazi could see.

Embedded in the sea of molten slag were bits and pieces that initially looked for the entire world like driftwood and flotsam tossed about on the frozen waves. But Tazi knew what they were. Thousands and thousands of arms and legs and claws and wings. They were all that remained of both armies, now indistinguishable in the face of the awesome force of nature.

"I know they were fell creatures, the dark creations of twisted minds," she said, unable to tear her eyes from the terrible sight, "but it was a high price. They saved the people of Thay, but it cost so much." And she closed her eyes.

"Their numbers will be restored soon enough," Szass Tam replied in a deep, rich voice.

Startled, Tazi turned around and saw that the dwarf had slipped away. In his place, the necromancer stood. And he had restored himself to his previous form. Gone was the skeletally thin frame and wispy tufts of hair. Instead, he appeared to her as he had the first day they had met. His hair was thick and black again. His black eyes gleamed out from his full face. He was dressed in his thick robes of crimson and black, and he smiled at Tazi.

She realized that she was backlit by the sun, and her nightgown left nothing to the imagination. She started to raise her hands to cover herself, but then she stopped. Tazi knew that the necromancer had seen her inside and out and there were precious little secrets between them now. She held her position and met his gaze.

"I have you to thank for this," she offered and looked down at her own body. She noticed that she still bore his mark on her left shoulder, though it had faded to almost a smudge.

He tipped his head in acknowledgement. "I prefer you this way," he smiled, "at least, for now Oh, I believe this is yours as well." From a fold in his robe, the necro — mancer produced Tazi's crimson dagger. She accepted it and marveled at the lich's confidence that he freely handed her a weapon capable of stopping a demon.

"I thank you for this." Not to be outdone, Tazi also added, "You didn't need to go to all that trouble just for me." She motioned to his appearance. "I see you for what you are, you know"

Smiling more broadly, Szass Tarn replied, "Why, Thazienne, I was about to say the same of you. We are well met, I think."

She turned from his critical stare and looked out the window again. The sight continued to pull at her heart. "It was a heavy price. I hope the Thayans realize what was sacrificed for their sake."

"They shall never know, Thazienne," he informed her.

"What? " Tazi asked, turning from the window.

Szass Tarn walked over to a small table that held a tiny plate of fruits ^nd a steaming pot and cup and seated himself. He motioned for Tazi to join him. She sat down and placed the dagger carefully on the table, keeping it in plain view

"You see," he explained reasonably and began to pour her a cup of tea, "it would not do for the people to know what transpired here in the Thaymount. We cannot have them see the Red Wizards as fallible."

"So you lie to them," she replied. She carefully accepted the full cup, suddenly leery of scalding herself.

"For their own good," he added pleasantly. "They need to have familiarity, constancy. The mind looks for consistent patterns and does not want to discover the out-of-the-ordinary. It is healthier for them to go about their daily lives without interruption."

Sipping her tea, Tazi added, "You mean, it's easier for you if they go about their business, none the wiser. You would do well to remember familiarity breeds contempt. Be careful, or you'll be hoist in your own petard one day."

The lich laughed, rich and throaty. "Thazienne," he told her, "you are a delight. Truly, a remarkable woman. Like a gemstone, there are many sides to you."

It was her turn to tip her head to the necromancer. As she carefully selected a slice of fruit and realized that she was famished, Tazi casually asked, "And how is Pyras Autorian?"

Szass Tarn smiled and replied, "He is doing very well under my ministrations. I believe that when I am done, no one will ever notice a difference."

Tazi grew thoughtful at what the lich said and what he didn't say. From his answer, she wasn't sure if he had healed the young tharchion as he had managed to heal her, or if he had used his skills at necromancy to raise him from the dead. She did recall, after all, that her crimson dagger had pierced him through the heart. If the act had been enough to drive the tanar'ri lord him from his body, what had it done to his actual flesh? She found she did not want to know the answer to that particular question.

She nibbled on a section of an orange and innocently inquired, "And Naglatha? Whatever became of her?"

Szass Tarn's black eyes grew stormy at the mention of the renegade Red Wizard. "Your former mistress managed to escape somehow during the excitement. But she cannot hide from me forever. I will collect my due from her, trust me on that.

"Though," he added almost as an afterthought, and Tazi could hear grudging admiration in his voice, "a woman that resourceful and cunning can be a valuable asset."

Tazi dabbed at her lips with a linen cloth and said, "Where can I change into something a bit more appropriate?"

"I find what you are wearing to be very pleasing," he said slowly, and Tazi could feel the heat rise in her cheeks in spite of herself. "However, if you feel you must, you will find your clothing laid out on the settee behind that screen there." He raised his hand to point to a delicately carved screen of ivory and obsidian.

"Excuse me," she told the necromancer, and he rose as she stood.

Tazi moved behind the screen and saw her familiar leathers. They had been meticulously repaired and smelled freshly oiled. There was not the slightest whiff of smoke to them. She let the silk shift fall to a puddle at her feet and slipped on her own clothing, still not used to the feel of her long hair brushing against her bare arms after so many years. As she strapped the new sword that Szass Tarn had left for her at her waist, she once again found herself impressed with his absolute confidence and surety that he could outfit a potential threat so well.

She stepped out from behind the screen and saw that the lich stood looking out the large windows. Tazi walked over to him and said, "I thank you for everything, but I must leave now."

Szass Tarn looked her over from head to toe. This time Tazi did not blush. "Would you consider staying for a while, Thazienne? There is still much I would like to talk to you about. After all," he remarked in an offhand way, "we have shared much over the last few days. I have seen things in you I find intriguing. And I see things in you," he added and reached out to capture a curl of her midnight-black hair, "that I see in myself. I would appreciate the opportunity to know you better."

Tazi involuntarily took a step back. She felt uneasy that the necromancer would say they shared any qualities at all. She broke away from his touch to walk over to the small breakfast table. There, she busied herself by collecting her dagger of crimson gold, sheathing it in her boot.

"Thank you for the offer, but I have to return home. There are some ghosts that I must lay to rest."

The lich watched her carefully. "It is inconvenient at times when the dead do not stay buried. But don't try to fool yourself, Thazienne. No one forces you to do anything ever. The choices, as well as the consequences, are always yours and yours alone.

"Perhaps," he added, "you might return another time. I can wait. For time is something I have in abundance."

Tazi stood tall and answered, "As long as slavery is present in this land, Zulkir, I doubt very much that I will return."

The lich looked disappointed to Tazi. "Then that is the true tragedy here today," he remarked sadly. "For I will most likely never see you again. As long as I exist, slavery will always be a way of life here in Thay. And I can promise you, I will be here for a very long time." And he gave her a grave look.

Tazi ran her hands over her person one last time to make sure she had all her belongings and strode over to the door. At the portal she turned and looked at the necromancer, who was, in turn, watching her.

"Perhaps I will find my way back here one day," she told him darkly. "And I will put a stop to your slavery once and for all."

Szass Tarn rose to the challenge. With a gentle smile on his lips, he replied, "My dearThazienne, you are just one woman, albeit a remarkable one, and one person cannot bring about change."

"Zulkir, turn around and take another look out that window," she directed him with deadly seriousness. "Take a long look at what just one person can do."

The lich turned to the window and observed the carnage and death before him. He wasn't displeased by what he saw. Instead, he was once again impressed by the will and the strength of the woman behind him. He vaguely entertained the notion that he might have finally found a match for himself, someone worthy of sharing eternity with.

He turned back toward Tazi. "While you may have-" he stopped short when he saw the room was empty. She had managed to slip away without his notice. A slow smile played on his full lips.

"Ah, Thazienne," he whispered to himself, "perhaps our paths will cross again sooner than you think."

¦(c)¦

Tazi left the Citadel and stepped out onto the cool lava flow. From where she stood on the Thaymount, she could see the Second Escarpment stretch out before her. To the east, she was able to make out the peaks of the Sunrise Mountains. Beyond them, she knew the Purple Plains and the Endless Wastes lay. And somewhere beyond sight was Sembia and her family home.

Tazi stood on the windswept hill, and her hair swirled around her like a living thing. She thought of the necromancer's words again about choices and consequences. She thought about Justikar and how he felt he had to assume his brother's place, though his sibling's dream had not been his. He did it for family and obligation.

She pulled the crimson gold dagger from her boot and balanced it, point down, on her finger. She remembered how the dwarf had told her the dagger would make a more fitting gift for her father as a symbol of what she had become than the raw metal alone. But did she really need to give him anything other than herself?

"Isn't the person I have become," she whispered to the wind, "the truest gift I can make to you, Father?"

On that bleak mount, Tazi realized she could do whatever she wanted. And she understood, as she saw the death around her, with that freedom there came the greatest of responsibilities. Tazi recognized that she did not need to return to Selgaunt, nor did she need to explore the mysteries of Faerun. It was her choice. She laughed and sheathed her dagger. She made up her mind and started down the path.

In a land renowned throughout the Realms for its heinous slavery, Thazienne Uskevren realized she was finally free.