The Spectral Blaze

To venture into the streets, the priestess had traded her vestments for nondescript clothing, including a hood to shadow her thin, sallow face with its pentacle tattoo. On such a terrible day, it was no longer safe for Luthcheq’s few surviving wyrmkeepers to look like what they were.

“Did you find out about Ferzath?” Phicos asked.

“Yes,” Esvele said. “He’s dead.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Chelnadatilar-the gold-killed him.”

Phicos cursed because it was an offense against the Dark Lady for any other being to kill a chromatic dragon but also because he and Esvele had hoped the black might help them escape the city.

“Well-” he began and, with a clinking and clattering of beads and pendants, someone else staggered into the multicolored candlelight. It was Halonya, with the layers of her grotesque, trailing costume muddy and askew.

The “high priestess” gaped at the satchel in Phicos’s hand. “What are you doing?” she shrilled.

“Ru

“No! I order you to stay and defend the temple!”

“Sorry,” Phicos said. “While Tchazzar lived, we deferred to you because he wanted us to. But now he’s gone.”

“He isn’t! He’ll rise again because he’s a god!”

“No,” Phicos said, “he wasn’t. We went along with his pretensions too since it was necessary to serve him and, through him, our true deity. But the time for that has passed as well.”

“Blasphemer!” Halonya screamed.

Phicos drew breath to deny the change, but Esvele said, “You’re wasting time we don’t have debating with a lunatic.”

And plainly she was right. Phicos pulled his knife from its sheath, stepped, and thrust. Mouth and eyes gaping wide, Halonya toppled backward, the sharkskin hilt jutting from her chest.

“Dangerous as the city is,” Esvele said, “I’m glad we lingered long enough for that.”

EPILOGUE

7 E LEINT-5 M ARPENOTH, THE Y EAR OF THE AGELESS ONE

In Airspur, Son-liin had observed the pomp and ceremony with which a queen conducted her affairs on a normal day. Now, she reflected, Shala Karanok was demonstrating the stark efficiency with which a ruler could manage a crisis.

The war hero hadn’t returned to the War College. Instead, as soon as word spread that Tchazzar was dead and those who had fought for him started surrendering, she set up a command post right on the edge of the battlefield, with corpses sprawled and crumpled in plain view. And there she took the city in hand, hearing reports, giving orders, and dispatching messengers. She didn’t even bother moving indoors when the rain Astanalan-the emerald wyrm-called to douse the fires began to fall. As a result, she and the human lords and officers attending her had wet hair plastered to their heads.

Many of those folk were eager to speak, but Zan-akar Zeraez looked ready to burst. And finally Shala called on him, although, judging from her glower, she begrudged the time for that as well.

“Your Majesty,” the ambassador cried, “that dastard deliberately provoked a dragon into charging genasi troops!” He pivoted and pointed at Gaedy

The bowman looked bewildered and spread his hands. “I can’t imagine what you mean, my lord. I fled from a dragon, certainly. I fled from several before the night was through. But I was never trying to lead any of them anywhere.”

“Liar!” Zan-akar spit. “Your intentions were plain!”

Magnol laid his hand on his fellow genasi’s arm. “I don’t know how you’d prove that,” the burly firesoul said. “And the truth is we were going to have to fight. I could tell it even if you couldn’t. And it was good that we joined the battle sooner rather than later.” He looked at Shala. “I understand Lord Zan-akar’s… concerns, Majesty, but Akanul is willing to let the matter drop.”

“Thank you, High Lord,” Shala replied, “and thank you again for your help.”

At that point Hasos and a squad of warriors herded two dozen bedraggled, stumbling prisoners toward the throne. Each captive had his green-tattooed hands bound behind him.

“The arcanists, Majesty,” Hasos said. “Or at least all that we’ve rounded up so far.”

The war hero scowled at them and they cringed. “Take them to the dungeons,” she said. “Do whatever you have to do to keep them from using magic to escape.”

Jhesrhi strode forward from the spot where she, Gaedy

As Son-liin understood it, that was because the wizard had undergone a transformation. Jhesrhi had become a creature of fire, like a red dragon or a salamander. Her magic somehow enabled her to contain the flame and heat, so she could wear clothing and other people could approach her without danger. But the raindrops dried as soon as they touched her.

“Majesty,” she said, “this isn’t fair. You declared amnesty for everyone who fought for Tchazzar.”

“And the witches will share in it,” Shala replied. “I’ll release them when order is restored. Although I am reinstating the old laws that regulated their conduct.”

“That’s not just either,” Jhesrhi said.

“We’ve just suffered through the harm they do when we don’t control them,” Shala snapped. “And I have too many urgent matters to address to argue the issue with you. The decision stands.”

As Hasos and the soldiers led the prisoners away, the mages glared at Oraxes and Meralaine. Traitors! their eyes screamed. Traitors!

The illusionist and the necromancer both flinched but looked dismayed for only a breath or two. It didn’t really matter that they no longer had a place in Luthcheq, even among the folk most Chessentans shu

It was Jhesrhi who, as she trudged back to her comrades, looked truly disconsolate. “So it really was all for nothing,” she sighed.

“The city just tore itself in two,” Gaedy

“It’s wrong,” Jhesrhi said.

“But nothing to do with you,” he said. “Not now that you’re back where you belong. What’s important is to leech the fire out of you, and we’ll figure out a way. Aoth can help. Meralaine and Oraxes, too, I expect.”

She simply looked at him for a moment. Then she said, “No. That isn’t what I want.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This change is the one thing that did work out. I’ve lived my life in dread of people… touching me. Now they can’t.”

“But that’s not ever how you wanted to be.”

“No, and the dissatisfaction only added to my misery because while my deformity was only in my mind, I couldn’t accept it. There were times when I all but drove myself crazy trying to overcome it.” She smiled a sad, little smile. “And drove you crazy while I was about it. But that’s over now. If I’m a freak inside and out, I have no choice but to learn to be content as I am. We finally have no choice but to be what we’ve always been and nothing more.”

“I won’t let you give up on yourself.”

“Damn you, you will never understand! It isn’t your choice to make!” She turned and stalked away.

You don’t need her, Son-liin thought. You need someone who will make you happy.

As she peered at the ceiling, Cera had an abstracted frown on her face. Aoth reared up from the bed, twisted, dug his fingers into her ribs, and tickled. She tried to squirm away or to grip and immobilize his wrists but could manage neither. He didn’t relent until she ran out of wind, and her helpless chortles changed to little puffs.

“That was cruel,” she wheezed.

“How so?” he replied. “You never hesitate to attack me if we’ve made love and then I don’t look all dazed and stupid with bliss for the rest of the night.”