They both looked up at the wide, shadowy something plunging down at them. They each leaped forward, separating in the process because otherwise they wouldn't have had time to scramble out from underneath. The weighted net thudded and rustled down between them.

A figure with a white face and hands jumped off the rooftop after the meshwork like a four-story drop was nothing. And apparently for him it was. He landed like a cat, and Gaedynn drove an arrow into his chest.

That too should have killed or at least incapacitated him. But he simply staggered a step, then charged. As he did, Jhesrhi recognized him as the small man from the tavern. She also noticed his bared fangs.

Fortunately, Gaedynn did too-and after the nightmarish campaign in Thay, he knew how to fight a vampire. His next shaft punched into the creature's heart, where it would serve the same function as a stake. Paralyzed, the undead collapsed.

Jhesrhi glanced around. Other pale figures were creeping from between the houses. She hurled a blast of fire and set the nearest two ablaze.

Then she pivoted, searching for her next target. Even though she was trying to avoid it, she looked straight into another vampire's eyes.

The undead's coercive power stabbed into her head. Suddenly she couldn't move. She wanted to, but it was like she'd forgotten how. She had the terrifying feeling she'd even stopped breathing.

She strained to break free. In her mind she recited words of strength and liberation that would no longer pass her lips. Abruptly, and without realizing it was about to happen, she wrenched her gaze away and gasped for air.

Her paralysis, brief though it had been, had given her foes the chance to rush closer. She spoke to the wind, and it hurled a vampire backward an instant before his outstretched hands could grab her.

Behind her, light flashed, momentarily painting the world blue-white. Thunder boomed, power crackled, and Gaedynn laughed a single "Ha!" of satisfaction. He'd used one of the special arrows she'd enchanted for him, evidently to good effect.

Even comparatively weak vampires-and it seemed to her that these were some of the weaker ones-were fearsome opponents, but so far it appeared that she and the archer were holding their own. Hoping to stand back to back again, she retreated a step, and then other figures stalked from the gloom behind the undead.

The newcomers weren't pale as bone, and she didn't see any glistening fangs or lambent eyes. Humans, then, wrapped in shapeless hooded cloaks much like her own.

She drew breath to cast a spell at the new enemies, then realized some of them were already chanting. A couple whirled implements resembling picks through serpentine passes with a nimbleness at odds with the weapons' obvious weight.

Jhesrhi abandoned her offensive magic to rattle off a briefer charm. A disk of golden light shimmered into existence in the air before her.

Also floating and made of glowing light, but continually rippling from one color to another, several picks abruptly appeared in front of her defense. The magical weapons hurtled at her, and though her amber shield shifted back and forth, it couldn't block them all. One red as flame whirled itself around the edge of the oval. She parried it with her staff, but at the same instant another such attack stabbed her in the back.

Wracked with pain and horribly cold besides, she crumpled. The pick that had wounded her changed from white to green and struck again before she finished falling. Her nose, mouth, and throat burned, and she started coughing uncontrollably.

Evidently recognizing that she was no longer able to oppose them, the enemy sent the animated picks streaking over her to take Gaedynn from behind. Still coughing, floundering in her own blood, she flopped over to watch the inevitable result.

Gaedynn whirled and loosed another arrow. Then, chopping relentlessly, the luminous, multicolored picks assailed him like a swarm of wasps. He fell with blood streaming from his wounds.

Between coughs, Jhesrhi caught the stink of charred flesh. Hands grabbed her and slammed her flat on her back. His skin burned black, a vampire dropped to his knees and bent over her.

Then one of cloaked men stepped into Jhesrhi's field of vision. Now that he'd come close enough, she could make out the pattern of scales on the robe visible through the gap between the wings of his outer garment. She could even discern how the folds of the iridescent vestment changed color as he moved, although in the darkness she couldn't truly see the colors themselves.

But she didn't have to see them to recognize a priest of five-headed Tiamat, the Dragon Queen. "Get away from her," the cleric said.

The vampire glared up at him. "She burned me," he said, the words garbled for want of the lips the fire had taken. "It's only fair that her blood help restore me."

"If we injure her any further, she's likely to die. As it is, we'll have to cast healings on her and the bowman before they're fit to travel."

Coughing less, no longer shaking quite so hard with chill, but still too weak to resist, Jhesrhi silently thanked the Foehammer that Gaedynn was still alive.

"You ... mortals," the vampire snarled, like it was the foulest insult imaginable. "You priests. You order us to the fore to run the greatest risk--"

"And you obey," the wyrmkeeper said, "because our master has given us authority over you." Master, Jhesrhi noted, not mistress. Whomever he was talking about, it wasn't his goddess. "And because you know we possess the power to compel you-or at least I assume you know. If necessary, I can provide a demonstration."

Though still glowering with fangs extended, the undead rose and backed away. "Thank you," the wyrmkeeper said. He stooped and tugged the staff from Jhesrhi's feeble grasp. The runes stopped shining. He studied the tool with a knowledgeable eye. "Nice. Very nice. Now, we're going to gag you and bind your hands. Then I'll do something to restore your strength and take away the worst of-"

"Look!" someone yelped.

The wyrmkeeper pivoted and glanced around. "At what?"

One of the men armed with a pick made of ordinary steel and wood pointed at a rooftop. "He's gone now, but he was there! Somebody spying!"

The wyrmkeeper turned toward the spot where three vampires stood clustered together. "Whoever it is, retrieve him."

The pale-faced figures dissolved from bottom to top like icicles melting. Shrunken into bats with wrinkled snouts and eyes like gleaming ink, swirling around one another, they fluttered upward and vanished into the night sky.

Next the cloaked men restrained Jhesrhi, denying her any hope of using her magic. Then the wyrmkeeper prayed over her. The nasty, sibilant sound of the words made her skin crawl. But as promised, they closed her wounds, muted her pain, and brought a bit of her strength trickling back. The priest moved over to Gaedynn and did the same for him.

Shortly afterward the three vampires, in human guise once more, stalked into view. The one in the lead was carrying a motionless body in his arms. When he dumped it on the street, its cape fell open. Jhesrhi was surprised to see that under his outer garment, the dead man too wore a vestment of iridescent scales.

"Thank the Dark Lady," the wyrmkeeper said.

"What do we do with him?" asked the fellow who'd spotted the skulker in the first place.

"It's better that he should disappear than be found," said the priest. "So I suppose we'll have to drag him along with us. Get them up."

The enemy hauled Jhesrhi and Gaedynn to their feet, and she saw that they'd disarmed, bound, and gagged the archer as well. The wyrmkeeper rubbed the black, mask-shaped ring on his finger, and she felt a powerful enchantment-no doubt the charm of invisibility-enfold the entire company, captors and captives alike.

Then they all tramped some distance through the city. Thanks to the wyrmkeeper's restorative magic, Jhesrhi expected that she'd continue to recover from her wounds with preternatural speed. But for now she was still weak and sore, and the walk taxed her severely. She might have been glad when her foes pointed her toward the entrance to the ruins of an old warehouse, except that she had every reason to be wary of whatever waited inside.

First she caught its odor, the tang of a gathering storm like she'd smelled that afternoon. Then she saw the sparks jumping and popping on the body that was simply a huge, shapeless mass in the dark. Eyes big as serving platters glowed white at the top of the murky form.

"I see you caught them," the creature said, its voice a sort of rumbling hiss.

"Yes, milord," the wyrmkeeper said. "Unfortunately, a spy loyal to one of your brothers discovered us at our work. But he won't tell anyone what he saw."

"That's all right, then. Tie the prisoners to my back."

Jhesrhi felt a pang of dread and tried to shake it off. To take comfort in the fact that at least the dragon didn't mean to torture or kill her and Gaedynn on the spot.

Someone produced a long coil of rope, and the worshipers of the Nemesis of the Gods proceeded to obey the wyrm's command. Meanwhile, Jhesrhi noticed, although she hadn't been able to tell it from the street, that most of the derelict building was open to the sky. A creature with wings wouldn't have much trouble entering from above.

Or exiting in the same manner-as the blue dragon proved by lashing its own batlike wings and carrying Gaedynn and Jhesrhi aloft. In a hundred heartbeats or so, Mourktar was left behind.

S.

I.

X.

29 TARSAKH-GREENGRASS.

THE YEAR OF THE AGELESS ONE (1479 DR).

Fires burned in the southwest. Khouryn couldn't see the flames, but no one could miss the columns of black smoke, even against a gray sky.

He clucked and urged his dappled mare forward. The dragonborn bred big, powerful horses to bear their weight, and though his was the smallest Perra had to offer, she was still an enormous steed for a dwarf. But he'd ridden all sorts of mounts since leaving East Rift, and he managed well enough.

He caught up with Medrash and Balasar, who sat silently contemplating the smoke like everyone else. "What is it?" he asked.

"War," Medrash said.

Wonderful, Khouryn thought sourly. Because his wife and home were on the far side of that war, and with Vigilant gone he couldn't just fly over it, now could he?

"Pick up the pace!" Perra called. Evidently the sight of the smoke made it seem even more urgent that she confer with her master as soon as possible.

So they rode or marched faster, and by the end of the morning, Djerad Thymar came into view. For some time afterward, Khouryn kept squinting at it. He was sure some trick of perspective was making the place look bigger than it really was.

But it wasn't so. The closer they approached, the more obvious it became that the dragonborn had built themselves a veritable mountain of a city. The structure rested on a colossal block of granite. On top of that, hundreds of gigantic pillars supported a kind of pyramid with a flattened apex. In its totality, the edifice towered more than a thousand feet high.

Since sighting the smoke, the ambassador and her retainers had been taciturn. But now Balasar noticed Khouryn staring, and grinned a fierce-looking reptilian grin. "Impressed?"

"I'd have to say yes," Khouryn replied.

"I hear you dwarves build things just as grand."

"We do. But we start with caverns and dig and carve. To begin in the open air with nothing more than a piece of ground, quarry all those big, heavy pieces of stone, haul them cross-country, set them one on top of another, layer on layer ..." Khouryn shook his head. "Your ancestors must have been out of their minds."

Medrash looked over his shoulder. "Keep up," he said.

The paladin's curt manner reminded Khouryn that grim times had come to Tymanther, not that he needed reminding. There were numerous indications as the company crossed the fields surrounding the city. Though he couldn't quite make out what sort of beasts they were riding, he spotted several aerial cavalry patrols taking off from the platform at the top of the truncated pyramid. Meanwhile, drums thumped out a somber cadence from the open, colonnaded space underneath the bottom. He inferred the sound was a call to arms, a funerary observance, or both.

A wide ramp led up the outside of the slab. Farmers, soldiers, and other folk drew to the edges to let the ambassador's party by. At the top, Khouryn and his companions passed into shadow. The pyramid perched above them blocked out much of the sky.

Before them was an agora with rings of shops around it. The travelers proceeded along the edge of the commercial area, between the outermost mercantile establishments and a row of pillars, until they reached a rectangular structure that clearly served as a stable and likely performed other functions as well.

Grooms marked with the jade-ring piercings of Clan Ophinshtalajiir hurried to take charge of the horses and to clamor greetings. Perra responded cordially, but also with a briskness that made it clear she didn't have time for chitchat.

As everyone dismounted, Khouryn said, "I suppose I can stick here for the time being."

"Please don't," Perra said. "You were in the thick of it, just like Medrash and Balasar. The vanquisher may wish to question you."

"Whatever you want," Khouryn said.

She led the three warriors past the stalls into a tack room that smelled of leather and the oil that kept it supple. "Since we're in a hurry, I'm about to trust the three of you with a secret of my clan. Just a little one, but I expect you to keep it." Using a claw tip, she traced a right triangle on a bare section of wall.

The world seemed to flash and lurch, and then they were standing in a different room. Khouryn realized magic had shifted them through space. Up into the pyramid, he assumed.

They strode on through what proved to be a handsomely appointed residence, where other dragonborn bearing jade rings hailed Perra with even greater surprise. As before, she didn't let anyone delay her for more than a moment or two, and when she'd shaken off the last of her well-wishers, she swept through an arch, between a pair of sentries, and into a passage that was plainly a public thoroughfare.

That in turn led to a plaza, an atrium that rose from the pyramid's floor all the way to its ceiling, where huge bats hung wrapped in their folded wings. Catwalks crisscrossed among them, a clue that the beasts weren't vermin, but rather the flying mounts Khouryn had seen swooping and fluttering across the sky outside.

Countless balconies jutted from the walls, and-rather to his surprise-beds of flowering plants flourished on the floor, suffusing the air with the scent of verdure. Evidently the magical glow illuminating the space nourished them as well as sunlight would.

"Don't stop and gawk," Medrash said. Then, possibly realizing how harsh he'd sounded, he softened his tone. "I understand the urge. I was the same way when I first got to Luthcheq. But Balasar and I will show you around later."

They marched on into a succession of chambers that-by virtue of their spaciousness and general magnificence, and the number of guards and bustling servants in evidence-Khouryn took to be the residence of the vanquisher. Perra spoke to a functionary who then hurried away, hurried back shortly thereafter, and conducted the newcomers into an audience chamber.

Khouryn's first impression was that like Shala Karanok's, the Tymantheran monarch's hall celebrated war. But here, suits of armor on stands took the place of the sculptures, and the cracked, faded frescos all depicted heroic struggles against dragons. There were wyrm heads mounted on the walls too, and old yellowed claws the size of short swords on display in trophy cases.

Tarhun, the vanquisher himself, was as hulking a dragonborn as Khouryn had yet seen, with a greatsword cradled in his hands to serve as a symbol of office. Square bits of gold studded the green hide under his eyes like teardrops. "Perra!" he boomed, as soon as she and her companions entered. "What does this mean?"

Perra, Medrash, and Balasar all bowed while sinuously sweeping their hands outward. Khouryn copied the salute as best he could.

"The war hero expelled us from Chessenta," Perra replied. "I take full responsibility."

Tarhun grunted. "Before we go assigning blame, maybe you should explain exactly how it happened."

"Yes, Majesty." Perra gave him the story as clearly and concisely as, Khouryn suspected, such a bewildering mess could be related.

When she finished, Tarhun's eyes shifted to Khouryn. Who saw curiosity and calculation there, but none of the distrust and distaste he'd so often encountered in Chessentan faces. "And you must be the sellsword officer who helped my emissaries in Luthcheq and again on the road home," the vanquisher said.

"Yes, Majesty," Khouryn said.

"For that," Tarhun said, "Tymanther thanks you. Will you and your spearmen stay on in my service, for a season or a year? I can use your skills, and I'll pay well."

"Thank you. But we're content in the Brotherhood of the Griffon, and the Brotherhood already has a contract."

Tarhun grimaced. "Which could mean that the next time I see you, it will be at the wrong end of a battlefield."

"Maybe not, Majesty. Shala Karanok expects to have her hands full with the Great Bone Wyrm."

"An enemy we dragonborn would gladly help her fight, if ..." The monarch shook his head. In that moment, his manifest strength notwithstanding, his manner conveyed an emotion not too far removed from despair.

"Majesty," Medrash said, "if I may speak-from the smoke in the sky, I gather we have our own war to concern us."

"Yes," Tarhun said. "With the ash giants."

"They've been raiding for generations," Medrash said. "But as far as I know, no one ever gave them the honor of beating the war drums for them before."

"It's different this time. They're coming in greater numbers and in a more organized fashion. Someone has united the tribes. They certainly seem to be fighting more cleverly, although the details are sketchy. Many of those who engaged them didn't return to tell the tale." The vanquisher barked a mirthless laugh. "I know I just said I would have helped Chessenta, but in truth we could use their help just as much. And if Shala actually does attack us, or if she merely permits the genasi to cross her territory and attack, then we'll have to fight two foes simultaneously."

"Majesty," Perra said, "I need to make sure I understand what's really happening if I'm to be of any use to you. And so, though I don't wish to give offense, I'll ask directly-did you send raiders into Akanul and simply not tell me about it?"

Tarhun glowered. "Of course not."