The masked witches

THREE

Jhesrhi had noticed that few structures in Immilmar looked particularly new. Apparently Rashemi saw little reason to put up a new building until an old one had rotted out and fallen down. But even by local standards, the whitewashed longhouse called the Witches Hall had an air of antiquity about it. It was easy to believe that the dragons, unicorns, and hounds carved under the eaves had glared their forbiddance at the first Iron Lord to walk the city s muddy, unpaved streets.

And forbiddance it would surely have been, for as the summons had made clear, even when the Wychlaran saw fit to call nonhathrans to their sanctuary, that didn t mean they were invited into the sacred precincts of the hall. As Jhesrhi, Aoth, and Cera approached, a masked woman stepped forward from her post before the front entrance and gestured for the newcomers to follow her.

She led them around to the south side of the longhouse, where someone had either dug out a small amphitheater or had taken advantage of a natural depression in the ground to fashion one. Somebody had removed some of the snow, too, but Jhesrhi suspected the plank benches would still make cold, damp seating for those who, unlike her, didn t have fire flowing in their veins.

By the Pure Flame, Aoth muttered.

When Jhesrhi glanced around, she saw what had annoyed him. She knew he d hoped the summons was for him and his comrades alone, or at worst for them, Vandar, and other representatives of the Griffon Lodge. Plainly that wasn t the case, for Dai Shan, the leader of the Shou, and Mario Bez were approaching, each accompanied by several of his men. The skyship captain shot Aoth a grin as he made a point of claiming a seat right beside him.

The heroes of the day, Bez said. Congratulations.

We were ready for them, Aoth replied with a shrug.

Still, even for dragon slayers, it can t have been easy to contend with undead spellcasters and superior numbers, the captain said. You should have told me what you intended. I could have spared a few men to stay and lie in wait with you.

And win the Storm of Vengeance a share of the credit if the killers actually did show up? Cera asked.

Bez spread his hands in mock dismay. Sunlady, you wound me, he said. Naturally, my concern would have been your safety, and Lady Jhesrhi s.

Jhesrhi decided there was no reason to pay further attention to what Bez had to say. He was more than likely sniffing for information which Aoth and Cera were too wary to give him and his was the sort of oblique, bantering conversation that made her feel tongue-tied and dull. Well, except sometimes, when it was Gaedynn

With a scowl, Jhesrhi pushed the archer s face with its shrewd eyes and flippant smirk out of her mind. In search of distraction, she watched Mangan Uruk, Vandar, and Folcoerr Dulsaer arrive. The berserker wore his beadwork regalia, and the half-elf had a sneer for each of his rivals.

Almost as soon as everyone had found a seat, they all had to stand up again as masked witches filed out of the longhouse.

They were not alone. Ghostly telthors flew, padded, bounded, scurried, or crawled along with them. In that first moment, Jhesrhi made out a hawk, a vulture, two bears, a squirrel, an otter, and a snake. Many of the creatures flickered, visible one instant and gone the next. None left any tracks in the snow. Their profusion reminded Jhesri that Rashemen was filled with nature spirits.

A number of the smaller familiars accompanied their mistresses to their seats on the benches. The others looked down on the assembled humans from the top of the amphitheater, or perched on the limbs of nearby trees.

One hathran had no phantom companion that Jhesrhi could see. Clad in a simple leather mask and brown hooded robe, she remained standing at the bottom of the amphitheater, and, when she was ready, slashed a bluewood wand through an intricate figure. Nothing overt happened as a result. Maybe it was simply a way of asking the gods to bless the gathering, for a hathran s arts were a mixture of the priestly and the arcane. It was a disorderly hodgepodge to Jhesrhi s way of thinking, but maybe she wasn t giving the barbarians enough credit.

Be seated, said the witch. She had a cold contralto voice that carried well. Many of you know me, but not all. I m Yhelbruna. With the help of Vandar Cherlinka, I brought the griffons down from the mountains. I m also the one who cast the runes and determined that it isn t necessarily the will of the spirits that this living treasure remain in Rashemen, disappointing and bewildering as that seemed. Word of the beasts existence, the news that drew Aglarondans, Theskians, and sellswords here, went out at my behest.

At times, she continued, an unexpected wry note entering her voice, I regretted that action, for you travelers began to arrive, and, to my embarrassment and the Iron Lord s, I still had no clear idea of the spirits plan for the griffons. But in light of recent events, and after prayer and meditation, I do now.

Aoth leaned forward. Cera took his hand and gave it a squeeze.

Bez called, Who gets the animals, then? Don t keep us in suspense.

Although their masks, voluminous garments, and air of aloof dignity made it difficult to be certain, Jhesrhi had the feeling that some of the hathrans were taken aback that he d had the temerity to speak without permission.

Yhelbruna, however, answered without any show of resentment.

I have no wish to keep you in suspense, Captain, and I promise I ll give you an answer soon enough, she said.

But there are things you need to hear first in order to understand it.

Aoth snorted. Leaning toward Cera, and Jhesrhi on the other side of her, he whispered, Someday a matter will be simple and straightforward again, and we ll realize we ve forgotten how to react.

For about a year, Yhelbruna continued, the undead have been troubling Rashemen. This, of course, is scarcely a unique occurrence. Our land is rich in magic and old as well. In ages past, it was home to folk who trafficked with dark powers. It s the kind of place where the dead are going to wake and walk from time to time.

Still, of late, there s simply been too much of it. The ghosts and revenants have been too powerful, and too intent on doing harm for harm s sake.

Dulsaer shook his head. Aren t they always intent on doing harm for harm s sake? he said.

Actually, no, said Aoth, not always. Although they may have vile hungers to satisfy, and an innate viciousness that prompts them to attack anyone they happen to encounter. But I get the feeling High Lady Yhelbruna is talking about more than that.

The hathran nodded. I am, she said. On our journey into the High Country, Vandar and I encountered an undead hag and some zombie goblins going to considerable trouble to break a Raumathari demon trap, for no discernible reason other than malice. There have been a number of similar incidents, including the recent outrage in the sacred grove, which was probably the most flagrant example of all.

Dai Shan cocked his head and placed his rather delicate-looking hands together, fingertip to fingertip. How so, wise priestess? he asked.

In the last century, Yhelbruna said, we Wychlaran had a falling out among ourselves. Some of our sisters, who came to be called the durthans, turned to commerce with wicked spirits and the fey, and formed their own secret sorority in our midst. And when we started to unmask them, they fled to strongholds in the wilderness, where they plotted to seize the control of the realm. When the opportunity presented itself as it did when our foes the Thayans started fighting among themselves we had no choice but to stamp them out.

Dulsaer nodded. I ve heard something about this

Witch War of Rashemen, he said.

Indeed, said Yhelbruna, although with a hint of distaste in her tone, as if she found the name vulgar. And I m bringing it up because we ve identified the creatures who attacked the grove.

Apparently restless, a transparent jay with a streaked crown fluttered up from a copper-masked hathran s shoulder. A misty adder coiled in its mistress s lap lifted its wedge-shaped head to track the other telthor s flight.

I take it, Vandar said, that they were durthans when they were alive.

Yes, Yhelbruna answered. A formidable coven that caused a great deal of misery working from a lair in the Erech Forest. When we finally found them, killed them, and buried them, we took considerable pains to ensure that they wouldn t rise again.

Jhesrhi made a little spitting sound. Incompetents, she whispered. They should have burned the corpses.

Or at least she thought she had whispered. But to her surprise and embarrassment, Yhelbruna replied to her. You re right, said the witch. But some of the women had been fine hathrans before they turned down the wrong path. So we chose to lay them to rest with the rites that are due a hathran, and the fact of the matter is, no one should ever have been able to find them, let alone reanimate them.

Yet apparently someone did, Cera said. Or else they came back because of some other influence.

And that s not the extent of the mystery, Yhelbruna said. We buried them in the Erech Forest, which is to say, in the northwest, on the other side of Lake Ashane. How, then, did they make their way to the outskirts of the Ashenwood without being detected?

Flying by night? Dulsaer suggested. Surely at least a few of you witches have mastered that particular magic.

Possibly, Yhelbruna said, although by day or night, we hathrans have watchers in the sky. Still, why come so far?

Because the oak spirit only lives a stone s throw from Immilmar, said Aoth. If I wanted to scare and demoralize the realm, I d strike in this area if I could manage it.

Interesting, said Yhelbruna. You outlanders all have your own ways of seeing and thinking, and perhaps that s what we need.

Scowling, Mangan Uruk rose. High Lady, no one respects your wisdom more than I do, he said. And I respect our guests. But I have to say one more time that I don t like this. Rashemen doesn t need sellswords.

Yet you yourself pressed Captain Bez s skyship into service, the hathran replied.

The Iron Lord hesitated. That was a special situation, he said. I saw a need to reach the grove faster than a horse could run.

And it s possible we need all of the outlanders capabilities, Yhelbruna said. All their insights, magic, and methods of making war. Believe me, I don t take any satisfaction in the thought. How could I? We Wychlaran are as proud of our skills as you warriors are of yours. But the truth of the matter is that our problem is growing worse, and neither of us has been able to solve it. We mustn t let pride keep us from obtaining help from those the spirits sent to give it.

So what you re saying, said Aoth, is that you want to hire us to put a stop to your infestation of undead, and the payment will be the griffons.

The Three have instructed the Wychlaran to proclaim a quest to benefit the realm, answered the hathran. They also provided a reward for those who fulfill it.

What if more than one group plays a part in solving your problem? asked Bez.

We ll turn the griffons over to all who do, and you can divide them as you see fit, she replied.

Or dice for the lot of them, or fight a duel, the skyship captain said. I suppose that will work.

High Lady, called Dulsaer, springing to his feet.

Surely you don t mean to ask a Thayan wizard for help when Rashemen is under attack by necromancy.

We ve been through this, Aoth replied.

In the first place, I m Szass Tam s enemy more than you ll ever be. In the second, I doubt Thayan agents are waking the dead this far north of the border. Especially if no one s spotted legions mustering on the far side of the Gorge of Gauros for an attack.

Cera grinned at the half-elf. And in the third place, what s the matter? she said. Are you afraid of the competition?

Dulsaer glared and opened his mouth for what he likely intended to be a savage retort. Yhelbruna cut him off: All of you are here by the will of the Three, she said.

Then that includes me and my lodge brothers, Vandar said, rising like the others. I m not an outlander with foreign insights, magic, and methods of making war. But you know better than anyone that I ve been in this from the start. I helped preserve the demon trap, I helped catch the griffons, I helped save the oak spirit

After making the job harder than it needed to be, Aoth murmured. and I demand the right to try to win the griffons.

Yhelbruna looked back at Vandar in silence for a moment. In fact, it seemed to Jhesrhi that everything had fallen silent, like the world was holding its breath.

If I recall correctly, the hathran said at length, the last male to demand anything of an assembly of the Wychlaran hopped away from this very amphitheater on four webbed feet.

The berserker took a breath. Still, I do demand it, he said.

Then it s just as well that we meant to include you anyway, Yhelbruna said, with perhaps the slightest hint of humor in her voice. This is chilly weather for frogs.

It appears, then, Dai Shan said, that we understand our task, and we know who else intends to strive for the greater glory of this noble land.

Please, said Dulsaer, sneering. The sellswords and berserkers are at least soldiers of a sort. You Theskians are merchants. What are you going to do? Bribe the undead to go away?

The small Shou in his long green coat rose. He turned to face Dulsaer and spread his hands. Shadows, hitherto scarcely noticeable in the afternoon sunlight, stretched and darkened, and gloom gathered in the air. Dai Shan leaped, or maybe simply vanished, and then he was standing on a patch of empty bench directly in front of Dulsaer. He snapped a punch at the griffonrider s face.

Startled, Dulsaer failed to react. The blow would surely have smashed his nose except that Dai Shan stopped it an inch short of the target. The murk in the air cleared, and the sunshine streamed back.

Is this how it works? Yhelbruna asked. We show leniency to one man, and the rest of you decide you re free to brawl in our presence?

Dai Shan turned and bowed to her. Noblest of ladies, he said, one could quibble over the appropriateness of the word brawl when no one has touched anyone else. But I m not a quibbler. I take your point, and I apologize. Vanity got the better of me. There are occasions when I find it useful to be underestimated, but in the main, I prefer to be taken seriously.

Demonstrate your prowess by destroying the undead, Yhelbruna said. That goes for all of you. Understand, we aren t requiring you to do it all by yourselves. You can apply to the Iron Lord for additional warriors or any other help you need. But still, ultimately, the task is yours.

She flicked her wand through another intricate figure. Then she led the other hathrans and the glimmering telthors out of the amphitheater. Everyone else stood in silence as they passed.

When they were gone, Bez leered at Aoth. Well, what do you say, Fezim? Partners?

Aoth shifted his grip on his spear. His mail clinked. It s something to consider, he replied.

Come on, said the captain. I don t understand everything you and these lovely ladies accomplished in Chessenta this past year. I don t know how anyone could make sense of all the stories. But it seems to have involved unraveling mysteries and secrets, and that s what s needed now. No one will ever stop these undead until we know how and why they re rising.

True enough, said Aoth. That s what my friends and I can cook for the feast. What do you have to contribute?

Surely that s plain, Bez replied.

You left your company in winter quarters; I brought mine. This is likely to come down to real battles, not just skirmishes in the woods, before it s over. When that happens, you want to stand with your fellow professionals, not alone, or with a pack of crazy barbarians.

Aoth smiled. You may have a point, he said.

I ve already seen how well crazy barbarians stick to a plan. Equal shares, even though there s a whole shipload of you and only three of us?

Of course. Bez said, thrusting out his hand.

Aoth didn t grasp it. He simply nodded. I ll let you know if I decide to take you up on it, he said.

The skyship captain s eyes narrowed. Are you joking? he asked.

No, replied Aoth. Because I remember Turmish, too, although not the way you claim to. And I ll partner up with you again if I think it s necessary, but not until.

Bez snorted. Suit yourself, Thayan, he said.

Hold a grudge. You ll regret it when I fly off with all the griffons. That s assuming some wraith or ghoul hasn t torn you apart before then. He and his men turned and stalked away.

Aoth turned and cast about. Vandar! Wait! he called, as he started toward the berserker and his lodge brothers.

So we are going to partner up with him? Cera asked, scurrying after him.

If he ll have us, Aoth replied. And much as he dislikes me, I think he will. What happened in the grove shows we can help each other.

Even though he and his folk are crazy barbarians? Cera asked.

Better mad and wild than treacherous, he said.

Uramar scrutinized the hieroglyphs on the limestone wall. Some of his broken selves, the ones who were scholars of esoterica, were interested. They picked out symbols they recognized the names of Abyssal powers and Infernal personages, mostly and muttered as they speculated on the meanings of those they didn t.

He suspected they d keep at it all day if he allowed them to, for it was the first Nar tomb complex he d visited. He and his fellows had mostly begun by waking durthans and other wise Rashemi who d perished in recent times. Those recruits had in turn helped them locate older ruins, barrows, and sunken, overgrown graves.

Of course, that wasn t the only way to find the resting places of the dead. A person could explore unmapped portions of the deathways and see where they led. That, as he understood it, was how his fraternity had discovered the new land in the first place. But it was a dangerous undertaking.

A frantic Stop! reminded him that his current methods weren t entirely safe, either. He pivoted, and his scarred, mottled hands shifted his greatsword into a middle guard.

A few paces ahead, four zombies had been breaking down a wall that brought the downward-sloping passage to what Nyevarra was sure was a premature end. The stroke of a pickaxe had knocked away plaster, but, by pure luck, left the wavy seven-armed sigil beneath unmarred.

Another blow certainly would chip it. Nyevarra did not content herself with snapping a command at the zombie to make sure that didn t happen. She grabbed its gray, slimy forearm and hauled it backward.

Short and solidly built like most Rashemi, Nyevarra had been a durthan. She still wore the robes and silver mask that had denoted her status, although the former were rotten and moldy; the latter, black with tarnish. Always somewhat unpredictable, Lod s magic had brought her back as a vampire. It was a condition she generally relished, although she d been briefly distraught when her former familiar had appeared and instantly attacked her, and she had had to destroy the thing.

Uramar hadn t blamed her for feeling upset. The telthor s reaction to her rebirth really didn t seem fair, considering that the wretched thing had been a bat. Or the spirit of a bat, or whatever.

As Uramar reached her side, he took another glance around, making sure none of the zombies showed any sign of taking another swing. For, while no member of the Eminence was truly mindless, the mute and sluggish things came close.

What is that? he asked, indicating the symbol with a slight inclination of his blade. He thought he already knew, but she was the expert on the mystical arts of the land.

A trap, she said, confirming his guess. If we disturb it, something bad will happen. Given that the Nars great art was demonbinding, I imagine a fiend will spring forth and attack us.

So how do we proceed? he asked.

You and the zombies stand back, she replied.

I m going to try to call the spirit forth under my control. I ll offer it freedom in exchange for a promise to leave us alone.

All right, said Uramar. Go ahead.

The operation took a little while. First, Nyevarra removed a stone from one of the pockets of her robe and scratched an elaborate geometric figure, composed mainly of interlocking triangles, on the floor. Both the rock and the lines it made glowed a sickly blue. It was the first actual light he d seen since descending into the vaults, for the undead didn t need it to find their way.

She stood in the center of the design she d created. Swaying, she crooned a chant that sent echoes whispering through the dark. Some of the carved symbols on the walls pulsed with phosphorescence. Despite its stupidity, a zombie shivered, and tears of sludge oozed down its slack, rotting face.

The trap symbol expanded. Suddenly, a creature resembling a huge insect burst from nothingness to thump down on the floor.

Its body was no bigger than a mastiff s, but its sets of spindly, many-jointed legs and three pairs of droning membranous wings nearly filled the corridor from wall to wall. Serrated mandibles gnashed and clicked above its cluster of bulging black eyes, and its several tails, each tipped with a curved stinger, coiled and lashed about.

Uramar had seen many things that the average mortal would consider horrible and hideous, including his own lopsided patchwork form reflected in a glass. And such things generally failed to disturb him, as they would not disturb most undead. But the demon, if that was what it was, seemed somehow overwhelmingly, even transcendently, vile. Everything about it shocked and sickened. The ugliness that made him strain just to keep his eyes on it. The buzzing that scraped at his nerves. The acidic stench that burned his nose, filled his mouth with a foul taste, and made his stomach churn.

Some of his souls simply couldn t bear the fiend s presence. They snapped and started screaming. But fortunately, most were resilient enough to allow him to ignore the clamor.

Two of the zombies, however, succumbed to the demon s influence. They fell down, thrashed, and pawed and swatted at themselves.

Uramar tensed when Nyevarra s knees buckled, and she too appeared on the verge of collapse. But she croaked a word of power and straightened up again.

Are you all right? he asked, raising his voice to make himself heard above the droning.

Yes, the vampire said, and you should be, too. I have the demon penned between the sigil on the wall and the one I drew. It s an ekolid, by the way. A lesser obyrith.

Lesser, said the demon, its psychic voice stabbing into Uramar s mind, is a strange word for one of you paltry undead to apply to me.

We re the ones who have you caged, Uramar said.

For how much longer? the demon replied. Your barrier and the witch are one and the same. I push, she has to push back. And so she exhausts her strength.

If that s true, Nyevarra said, then I suppose it would be prudent to shove you back into your original prison while I still can.

The wasp-thing laughed. Its mirth was like a whip lashing and slicing the inside of Uramar s head. But you can t, little leech. I don t know how long I was bound here. A long while, I think. But I can see that you re no Nar, and you don t possess their skills.

I don t see a point to your hostility, Uramar said. The Nars enslaved you, so why would you want to fulfill their purpose? I was once in a similar situation, and I certainly had no desire to please my captors. Let Nyevarra set you free. All we ask in return is that you go in peace. Otherwise, we ll have to lock you away again or kill you.

It would be nice to thwart the Nar who bound me, the demon said. But how would he ever even know about it? Whereas you little folk are cringing right in front of me. I can actually hurt and destroy you, and that too will set me free.

We re not cringing, Nyevarra began. Suddenly the blue glimmer in the lines on the floor blinked out, and the ekolid sprang at her.

Its forelegs slammed into her shoulders and chest, and its momentum plunged her to the floor beneath it. Its tails whirled around its body to drive their stingers into her flanks. Its mandibles spread to grip her head between them.

Uramar raised his greatsword, willed his cold flesh colder, and rushed in. Kill it! he called to the zombies. He wasn t sure that any of them would obey under the circumstances, or that they d be of much use if they did, but it was worth a try.

Meanwhile, Nyevarra s body vanished in a puff of mist and swirled away from the demon s murderous embrace. The ekolid immediately oriented on Uramar, and its several tails reared like serpents.

As Uramar lunged into striking distance, he couldn t see any sign that the deathly chill that surrounded him was bothering the fiend. He hadn t really expected it to, but it was another measure that was at least worth a try.

Let s see you ignore this! snarled one of his warrior selves, and he swung the greatsword down at the demon s head.

The obyrith responded with two simultaneous actions. One of its stingers stabbed into Uramar s flank just above the hip. A different tail whipped into position to parry the sword stroke near the top of its arc.

As the stinger ripped free, a burst of pain doubled Uramar over. But the greatsword cut a little nick in the demon s tail, and it faltered, too. A psychic shriek rasped through Uramar s head.

The ekolid shook off the paralysis of sudden pain with a rattling shudder of its entire body, transparent wings, lashing tails, and all. At the same time, Uramar found renewed strength of his own in the power that shivered through his sword hilt into his hands.

The ekolid scuttled forward. Though still not fully recovered, Uramar managed to snap his point into line. The demon jerked to a halt just before it would have rammed its own head onto the blade. Then it hopped backward.

A life-drinking sword, it said. How does a slave stitched together from scraps of offal acquire such a treasure?

I m not a slave, panted Uramar, straightening up. Not anymore, he wasn t. You have no idea who we are, or the things we re going to do. It s a shame you won t live long enough to find out.

Perhaps you can tell me all about it when you re groveling to me in the Abyss, the demon said. That s assuming a travesty like you even has a soul to go there. Really, I think it s just as likely that everything you are is about to disappear like a blown-out candle flame.

The pain of the puncture wound above Uramar s hip had faded to an ache, but flared into agony once more. A pale grub the size of his thumb came squirming out of the hole.

At that moment of shock, revulsion, and pain, the ekolid lunged. The two zombies who hadn t lost what passed for their minds lurched past Uramar and swung their pickaxes. The one on the right popped a couple of the demon s round black eyes into smears of jelly. The other tore a wing. The ekolid retaliated and all but ripped them apart with arcing, whipping stabs of its stingers.

At the same time, Nyevarra, in womanly form once more, shrieked three rhyming words. Lightning crackled from her outstretched hand to blaze across the demon s hindquarters. The blast made the ekolid falter for a scant instant, but had no other effect that Uramar could discern. It continued to scuttle toward him.

He dipped the greatsword low, as if he meant to shear the obyrith s forelegs out from underneath it. Its tails shifted to defend against such an attack and strike back at his torso. He retreated just out of reach of the stingers and let go of his weapon with his left hand. Suddenly he whipped out his arm, and threw a barrage of conjured hailstones from his fingertips.

Caught by surprise, the ekolid offered no defense. And while it might be impervious to pure cold, the hard bits of ice pulped and tore at the rest of its eyes almost as effectively as the zombies pickaxes.

The demon recoiled, and, slashing, Uramar pursued. Nyevarra cast away her tarnished mask, revealing a face that a mortal might have found pretty except for its ashen pallor, needle fangs, and snarl of bestial fury. She leaped onto the demon s back among the buzzing wings and started biting.

Despite their combined attack, killing the ekolid wasn t easy. But finally the demon collapsed with much of its head, torso, and limbs either crisscrossed with gory wounds or chopped away entirely.

Its death throes were mere shudders, but from the corner of his eye, Uramar glimpsed something else crawling in the spreading pool of its dark, putrid blood. It was the larva, already bigger than when it had wriggled out of his side. He bellowed and stamped it to mush.

For a moment, slumping, he imagined that was the last thing he needed to do. Then he realized that Nyevarra was still clinging to the motionless ekolid and still licking and sucking at its wounds.

It was normal behavior for a vampire, but the results weren t. Her body swelled, and there was a squirming beneath her clothing, as though new appendages were sprouting. Her skull made crunching noises as it changed shape. Her two eyes divided into four, and the beginnings of mandibles curled from her temples.

Uramar dropped his sword, grabbed Nyevarra, and dragged her off the ekolid. She struggled, but her strength, though greater than human, was less than his own. Knowing of a no more sophisticated remedy, he slammed her into the wall repeatedly.

Rather to his surprise, it worked. Her shape ran and blurred, writhed and shifted in his grasp, until she was herself again, and she stopped fighting to break free.

He let go of her carefully and watched to see if her seeming return to normalcy was a trick. It didn t seem to be. She didn t use her restored mobility to attack.

Thank you, she said. She rubbed her stained lips with the back of her hand. The blood was foul, but wonderful, too. I couldn t stop drinking it.

I m glad it didn t do you any permanent harm, he replied.

That s twice you ve pulled me back from oblivion, or as good as, she said. She reached up, caressed his cheek, and traced the path of his jugular, her fingertip sliding over the ridges in his flesh. Would you like to help me wash the bad taste from my mouth?

Some of his broken souls moaned, Yes! But others urged caution, reminded him of his mission, or simply felt awkward and inept, and those were the voices that prevailed.

He stepped back from her and asked, How did the ekolid break free?

She smirked at his implicit refusal, and her fangs retracted into what appeared to be ordinary canine teeth. The fiend explained it well enough, she said. It was strong, and I m not a Nar.

Let s press on, then, and find those who are, he replied.

He retrieved his greatsword, and Nyevarra, her mask. The two zombies who d gone mad had stopped thrashing, and when he told them to get up, they obeyed as if they didn t even remember their panic.

Uramar ordered the creatures to finish smashing a way through the wall. When they did, the burial chamber stood revealed.

It was full of gold and gems, often used to fashion grotesque images of devils and demons in the forms of statuary, brooches, and sword hilts. One of Uramar s selves, a simpleminded one, wished he and his companions had brought a lantern so he could see all the treasure gleam. Others felt a reflexive thrill of greed. But he barely noticed the stray flickers of thought. He was too intent on the trio of sarcophagi on their pentagonal dais.

Nyevarra grunted. That was a lot of trouble to go to for only three, she muttered.

Uramar smiled. I think it will be all right, he said. Tombs are like houses. It s powerful folk who have big, luxurious spaces all to themselves, or nearly so. And if these people were powerful before they died, we can hope they ll come back the same way.

Prying with their pickaxes, the zombies shifted the heavy stone sarcophagus lids out of the grooves where they fit, then slid them to the side. One by one, the lids crashed to the floor. Whatever ultimately came of it, Uramar found he enjoyed this bit of desecration for its own sake. For how often, during the idleness and solitude of his long years in bondage, had he wanted to do something similar?

Inside the boxes were crumbling bones, dust, and the gem and metal portions of whatever garments the dead had worn. Uramar took a bottle of Lod s pigment from the pouch on his belt, and, careful not to crush the fragile things, daubed symbols of reanimation on what remained of the skulls.

It was time for the incantation. Nyevarra joined in, and gradually other voices started whispering along as well. For a change, they were not the phantom voices that commonly pestered Uramar. He didn t know whose voices they were. He wondered if even Lod did.

As he, Nyevarra, and the unseen chorus neared the end of the spell, he had a sense of twisting, or pressure and resistance, as though some abstract but fundamental aspect of the world was being forced into an unnatural shape. Somehow blacker even than the utter darkness of the crypt, shadows seethed and rippled inside the sarcophagi. On the final syllable, the shadows exploded outward, and for an instant, even he was blind.

When Uramar s sight returned, the Nars were already sitting up. The magic had brought them back as ghouls gaunt, hunched, and hairless with sunken eyes, mouths full of fangs, and claws on the ends of twisted fingers.

What s happened? asked one of the creatures. He d come back with his nose entirely rotted off, which made his withered face look even more like a skull s than was the case with the other two.

We ve given the world back to you, Nyevarra said, and you back to the world.

Why? Skull-face asked.

Because we want your help, Uramar said.

Skull-face sprang out of the sarcophagus, then faltered, seemingly startled by his own agility.

We re reborn better than we were before, Nyevarra said.

Skull-face looked down at himself, then examined his rotting features by touch. I would have thought I d be repelled, he murmured. But I m not. What I am is hungry. He licked his lips with a black and pointed tongue.

A second ghoul sprang up. That one had been a woman. One breast dangled, and one was gone, along with the ear and cheek on the same side. It s strange, she said. I can t remember anything after the axe came down. Was it all just nothing, then, without even a hell to suffer in?

It doesn t matter, Uramar said. You re here now.

Thanks to you, said the third ghoul, standing up in a more gingerly fashion than the others. He d been extensively tattooed, and he twitched repeatedly as the designs redrew themselves, a stroke at a time, in his shriveled hide. Because you want our help. With what?

You were lords and conquerors once, Uramar said.

We invite you to be such again, and help found an empire like none the twin worlds have ever seen.

The female ghoul grinned. Will this enterprise involve killing Raumvirans? she asked.

Uramar sighed and replied. Actually, that s one of the many things we need to talk about.