Unclean

"Yes, illusionist," the fat man replied, "you may. You've whistled up a host of phantoms to affright us, but I'd be more inclined to cower if I understood why you of all people would want to warn us. You're one of Szass Tam's favorites. If he crowned himself king, you'd benefit."

"You forget," Yaphyll said, "Tharchion Flass has sworn to serve all of us zulkirs, and I'm sure that, like all of us, she's concerned first and foremost with the welfare of the realm."

Lallara shot her a poisonous glance. "Your little drolleries are growing even more tiresome than usual." She shifted her glare to Dmitra. "The hog raises a valid point. If this is all a charade, it's hard to imagine what you could possibly be trying to achieve, but still: Why should we trust you?"

"Because Szass Tam no longer does," Dmitra replied. "In times past, he would have confided in me. Involved me in any scheme to which I might prove useful, even the assassination of a fellow zulkir, yet now, suddenly, he dissembles with me and only asks me to advance his schemes in a limited fashion, even though I've given him no reason to question my loyalty.

"Why? I can't imagine, any more than I know what he gained by murdering Druxus Rhym, or why, after contenting himself with being senior zulkir for so long, he's decided to strike for even greater authority. Not understanding alarms me.

"What I do know is that life in Thay as it's currently governed has been good to me. I have a nasty suspicion that, for whatever reason, I wouldn't find existence so congenial under Szass Tam's new regime."

She smiled. "So I'm trying to keep things as they are, and hope to manage to do so with minimal risk to myself. I've taken pains to keep Szass Tam from learning of this meeting, and if none of you tattles that I sought to rally you against him, I shouldn't suffer for it."

Lallara grunted. "What you say makes a certain amount of sense, Tharchion, which isn't to imply I embrace it as complete and utter truth. And perhaps your motives don't matter so very much, because Samas was right about one thing: He, Yaphyll, and I are all averse to installing the lich in a new office higher than our own. It's clear from our ma

Yaphyll nodded. "Agreed. No kingship or regency for anyone, ever, under any circumstances." Unless, of course, she could somehow, someday win such a prize for herself.

Samas Kul heaved a sigh. "I agree, too, I suppose."

It was as eloquent an oration as Szass Tam had ever given. He enumerated the dire menaces facing Thay in general and the zulkirs personally. He reminded the other mage lords of his accomplishments, recent and otherwise, and pointed out how divided leadership could prevent even the greatest realm in Faerыn from achieving its goals or coping in an emergency. The failed military endeavors of recent decades were obvious examples.

He also promised he'd step down as soon as he eliminated the threats to the common weal. He omitted, however, any mention of the hideous punishments he'd meted out to folk who had, at one time or another, balked or angered the oldest and most powerful wizard in the land. He was certain the other zulkirs recalled those without his needing to allude to them.

Yet when he saw the glances that passed among Yaphyll, Lallara, and Samas Kul, he realized that somehow the other members of his faction had already known what he was going to propose. Known, palavered in secret, and resolved to oppose him as staunchly as the remaining zulkirs, and that was staunchly indeed. The other three were his long-time enemies: Nevron with his perpetual sneer and the brimstone stink of his demon servitors clinging to his person; Lauzoril, deceptively bland and clerkish; and Mythrellan, who affected to despise everyone else on the council, who changed her face as often as other great noblewomen changed their gowns, frequently to something with an element of the bizarre but always exquisite nonetheless. Today her eyes were gold and her skin sky blue. A haze of unformed illusion ready for the shaping made her image soft and blurry.

Even though he recognized early on that he was almost certainly speaking in vain, Szass Tam carried on to the end then called for a vote. It seemed possible that, now that the moment for support or defiance had arrived, his supposed allies might lose their nerve.

Alas, they remained resolute. Only Szass raised his hand in support of the proposal he himself had introduced. Nevron leered to see his foe so humiliated. Even prim Lauzoril managed a smirk.

Though he hadn't expected to find Yaphyll, Samas, and Lallara united against him, Szass had thought himself prepared for the possibility that his ploy would fail. Still, the mockery inspired an unexpected paroxysm of rage. He yearned to lash out at every adversary, old and newly revealed, seated around the gleaming red maple table.

He didn't, of course. Attacking six other zulkirs at once might well prove suicidal, even for a mage more powerful than any one of them. Instead, making sure his mask of affability didn't slip, he inclined his head in seeming acceptance.

"So be it," he said. "We'll continue on as we always have, deciding all matters by consensus. Be assured, I don't resent it that you rejected my plan, prudent though I believe it was, and I'll keep working diligently to solve the problems that plague us."

At the same time, simply by thinking, he sent a signal. He'd prepared the magic beforehand, with sufficient concern for subtlety to ensure that even the extraordinarily perceptive Yaphyll wouldn't notice it thrilling through the aether.

After that, everyone blathered on for a while longer, and though he felt a seething impatience to depart, he supposed that really it was fine. His minions needed time to do their work.

As soon as the meeting broke up, he spurned Samas, Yaphyll, and Lallara with their slinking excuses and attempts at reconciliation and translated himself back to his study in the citadel of the order of Necromancy. It took the warlock waiting there an instant to notice his arrival, and then the fellow flung himself to his knees. Tsagoth knelt as well, albeit with a glower. Apparently the blood fiend had expected his master to liberate him once he accomplished the death of Aznar Thrul, but as demonstrated by that success, he was too useful an agent to relinquish when so many challenging tasks remained.

"Get up," Szass Tam said. "Tell me what's happening."

"Yes, Master," said the younger necromancer, rising. Szass had the conceit that if he peered deep into his subordinate's eyes, he could glimpse an indefinable wrongness there, a hint of the psychic shackles binding the live wizard to silence and obedience, but perhaps it was only his imagination. "Our agents are spreading the tidings that, in their arrogance, folly, and ingratitude, the other zulkirs denied you the authority you need to preserve the realm."

"With the proper enchantments in play to make the news seem as infuriating as possible."

"Yes, Master, just as you directed."

"Good." Szass Tam turned to Tsagoth. "You know what to do from here. Go tell your partners."

Nular Tabar glanced back at the shuttered three-story brick house behind him. It wasn't the primary stronghold of the order of Conjuration in Eltabbar. That imposing citadel was on the other side of town, but despite a lack of ba