The Spectral Blaze

“Who am I?” Tchazzar asked.

The child just goggled at him.

“Who am I?” the dragon repeated, his tone harsher. A wisp of smoke fumed from his mouth. A hint of crimson scales rippled across the last joints of his fingers.

A god, Jhesrhi thought. Tell him he’s a god.

And perhaps one of true gods whispered that answer in the child’s ear. For, stammering almost inaudibly, his voice rising at the end, that was what he said.

“Good!” Tchazzar cried. He dropped the child and gave him a slap on the back that knocked him to his hands and knees. He turned back to Jhesrhi and the assembled lords, clerics, warriors, and envoys. “You see? The pure, perfect faith of an i

Please, Jhesrhi thought, this one time, don’t feed his madness.

Halonya hesitated. Then she said, “Yes, Majesty, it is. You’ve found the answer.”

Magnol shot Zan-akar Zeraez an inquiring glance. The diplomat responded with a tiny shake of his head, advising the Steward of Fire to say nothing. Maybe it was because the children of the genasi were safe in Akanul.

It occurred to Jhesrhi that conscripting the children might actually aid Aoth’s strategy because it would inevitably slow the march south, thus buying more time for her friends to accomplish their missions. But it didn’t matter. She couldn’t allow any possibility that children would end up on a battlefield facing dragonborn warriors, not if she could possibly avert it.

“Majesty,” she said.

Tchazzar turned his grin on her. “What?”

“I don’t pretend to understand the mysteries of faith,” she said, “but if you say the children will give you strength, then I know it must be so. Still, surely it’s their prayers that will do it, not a struggle to spill blood with their own hands. And can’t they pray just as well in Luthcheq? I would think, better.”

Halonya glowered at her. “His Majesty has explained how it’s going to be.”

Jhesrhi lowered her head. “Of course, sister. Forgive me if I spoke foolishly. I already confessed that I don’t understand sacred matters. So let me just say how much I admire your courage, and then I’ll hold my tongue.”

“Yes, that would be-” Halonya blinked. “My courage?”

“Surely,” Jhesrhi answered. “If the point is to cha

The Red Dragon nodded. “Yes. That does make sense.”

Halonya hesitated and her eyes shifted from side to side. If she was looking for help, it was to no avail. Even enthusiastic supporters such as Lord Luthen opted to keep quiet.

So she swayed, staggered, and whirled around, arms outstretched, vestments flapping and jewelry swinging and clanking. Most of the young athletes goggled at her, although one tried to hide a smirk and whispered to his neighbor.

“Spirits have spoken to me!” Halonya declared. “The dragon exarchs who love Your Majesty!”

Jhesrhi had never heard of the “dragon exarchs,” but Tchazzar simply asked, “What did they tell you?”

The priestess hesitated for a heartbeat. Jhesrhi assumed that she was working out exactly how to put what she had to say.

“That Your Majesty is completely right!” Halonya said. “Or would be! Ordinarily! But perhaps he’s overlooked his new temple. That would be natural since it’s not even built yet. The work has barely begun. But already the ground is the holiest in all Faerun. And if I lead the children in prayer there, we’ll work bigger miracles than we could anywhere else!”

Jhesrhi inclined her head again. “Sister, as always, I feel humble before your wisdom.”

But Tchazzar was frowning. “My servants, mortal and supernatural, are wise. But not as wise as me. And my own divine judgment tells me to take these youngsters and all the others like them to Tymanther.”

Jhesrhi took a breath. “Majesty, from all that I’ve heard you say today, I’m guessing you feel that way because Djerad Thymar is supposed to be impregnable. But I can guarantee you it isn’t. The Brotherhood of the Griffon took one of Szass Tam’s Dread Rings, and we-excuse me, they-can help you take the dragonborn citadel too.”

Tchazzar snorted. “That might be helpful if Captain Fezim and his men weren’t busy chasing traitors and ghosts in Threskel.”

“I believe they must have finished that work or nearly so,” Jhesrhi said. “After all, we haven’t had any more attempts on Your Majesty’s life or any more undead sneaking into the War College. We haven’t had any recent reports of unrest.”

“We haven’t had any news,” Tchazzar said, “even from the wyrmkeepers Halonya sent to find out what the sellswords have accomplished.”

Jhesrhi felt a pang of alarm. That was the first she’d heard of that particular pack of spies. But apparently the folk charged with concealing Aoth’s absence had handled the situation somehow.

And while Halonya would ordinarily have pounced on the opportunity to interpret the priests’ silence to the Brotherhood’s detriment, her priority now was to avoid the possibility of a dragon born’s spear in her guts. “I believe,” she said, “that we can take the quiet as a good sign. After all, I sent four men. If something were badly wrong, surely at least one would have rushed back to warn us.”

“Hmm.” Tchazzar studied the only two humans he truly trusted, united for once in their opinion. “All right, have it your way. The children will stay here, and the Brotherhood of the Griffon will march south with us.” He pivoted toward Hasos. “Send for them immediately, and tell them to come as fast as they can. Tell Aoth Fezim to fly on ahead and get to Luthcheq as fast as he can.”

“Yes, Majesty,” Hasos said.

And now I’ve done it, Jhesrhi thought. If we’ve been ru

“It’s been a long time,” Balasar whispered.

Khouryn scowled. They were supposed to be lying in wait in silence. But in fairness to his friend, Balasar was keeping his voice low, and using a dwarf’s understanding of how sound carried and echoed underground, Khouryn had chosen their current hiding place partly because any noise they made wouldn’t travel far. So he decided not to make an issue of the dragonborn’s indiscretion.

“It seems like it,” he whispered back, “but then, it always does when you’re waiting.”

Lying on his belly on the ledge, Balasar rolled his shoulders until they popped. “Especially when you’re waiting on a dragon. Specifically the same dragon who’s already tried to kill the lot of us.”

A few spaces farther down the line, Vishva frowned to hear Praxasalandos so disparaged. Medrash simply said, “Prax is a different creature now. We just have to hope Gestanius didn’t sense that.”

“Or else she’ll have killed him,” Khouryn said, “and won’t come within a mile of our ambush.”

“Quicksilver wyrms are supposed to be tricky,” Biri said. She was lying beside Balasar-not, Khouryn assumed, by accident-and she smiled in the Daardendrien’s direction. “If you give him a chance, you may find out you’ve got a lot in common.”

Balasar snorted. “I may be friends with a gaggle of dragon worshipers, but forgive me if I stick at the dragons themselves.”

Across the cavern and near the mouth of the tu