"No," hissed Demok, "I am a whole heap of trouble!"

"Announce Kehrsyn and Demok here to see Tiglath," said Kehrsyn, showing a poise that surprised even her, given the situation. "I have her sufferance, and you will not harm this man."

"I can see that," said the Tiamatan pressed against the wall.

The third man sheathed his dagger and gently pushed the point of Demok's long sword away from his stomach.

"I'll get her," he said.

"Tell them they're here on urgent business," added the man against the wall.

"While we wait, why don't you put down your club and help your friend here?" asked Kehrsyn.

The man nodded and dropped his weapon, then carefully moved to his fallen comrade and helped him to the relative safety of one corner of the cloakroom.

That done, Kehrsyn leaned over to Demok and said, "Please put your weapons away. Tiglath won't take the sight of them very well."

"Tough," grunted Demok.

"She'll take it as poorly as you would," elaborated Kehrsyn.

Demok considered that, then sheathed his weapons quietly and efficiently. Kehrsyn noticed, however, that he rested his hand on the pommel of the quick-drawing short sword. Just in case.

In just a few moments, Tiglath came bustling along, wrapped in a thick robe. Her little dragonet sat on her shoulder, flexing its wings to keep its balance as she walked.

"My dear," she said, "I'm coming to think that you're a storm crow."

"You don't know the half of it," said Kehrsyn. Tiglath cocked her head. "The guy I work for, it turns out he's Zimrilim, and he brought back Gilgeam."

"Gods, no…" Tiglath gasped. "You-you're jesting!"

"He must have kept the body hidden all these years, and he used this ancient magical wand and these potions and-"

"Zimrilim," echoed Tiglath, still with a tinge of disbelief, "resurrected Gilgeam?"

Demok shook his head and replied, "No, not resurrected. More like… animated. Mummy, perhaps."

"Yeah, like that," said Kehrsyn. "He was all wrapped up and stuff, and he just ripped his way out of the wrappings and grew in size and-"

"Fiery hells," swore Tiglath, "he… animated… a god? To be his pawn?"

"Yep," said Demok.

Tiglath put her hands to her head as if to keep it from exploding under the pressure of that new revelation.

"He must be mad…" the priestess said, speaking primarily to herself.

"Well, yeah," said Kehrsyn.

"To even think of forcing a dead god back into its corpse is… is unconscionable. Only the very highest undead would be capable of holding Gilgeam's intellect. Such an act… even creating a greater undead being… it would excise the higher levels of the corpse's mind, leaving only the basest and most violent processes in place." She looked up at Kehrsyn and Demok, as if remembering their existence. "That's the basis of animation, you know. You take a human and stimulate only the basest, most animalistic desires, their simplest instincts of hate and hunger. It makes them easier to control and ensures their hostility if they are encountered out of one's control. Doing that to a divine being like Gilgeam would be insane. Think of all of the heinous acts he committed in his life, when he had some semblance of self-control! How much more, then, when his higher brain is wiped away, leaving only a vague sense that nothing is right within his own mind!"

"Well, that would pretty much fit with what we saw," observed Kehrsyn.

"Didn't like having a master," observed Demok.

"And Zimrilim, after all these years! I knew we should have searched harder for his body!"

"Don't bother," said Demok.

Tiglath rocked back on her heels, looking up to the ceiling. "So if what you said is true, Zimrilim made him some sort of greater undead, which means he'll have all of his instincts and many of his mental faculties. He won't have much of a sense of identity, which means we won't be able to reason with him. He is almost certainly mad… not that he wasn't mad enough already when he was alive."

Tiglath turned to her followers and said, "Full combat regalia, people, move!" She looked back at her visitors and shook her head slowly. "There will be a lot of blood tonight. We have to do our best for Unther, but even if we succeed there may not be enough left of Messemprar to interest the pharaoh anymore. Last time we fought Gilgeam, we had the Dragon Queen Tiamat herself at our side. Now all we have is a city full of tired, hungry refugees and defeated soldiers."

"And we have this," said Kehrsyn, pulling out the Alabaster Staff. "You seem the best bet to carry it. I just hope you can figure out how to use it."

Tiglath took the long, slender wand and turned it over in her hands, whistling through her teeth. She glanced askance at Kehrsyn, a glint in her eye.

"Would this happen to be the 'ancient mystical wand' that you mentioned earlier, young one?"

Kehrsyn grinned, but her pride in her accomplishment shone through in her eyes.

"Yeah," she said from the corner of her mouth.

Tiglath rocked back on her heels with a self-satisfied smile and said, "I'm greatly pleased to find that my trust in you was not misplaced, young one." She handed the staff back. "Come with me, and tell me everything you know about it while I don my armor. You," she added, turning to Demok. She paused, then fluttered a hand at the two Tiamatans in the corner of the cloakroom. "Make sure those two get their armor on right away."

Demok laughed between his teeth and said, "Armor. Right."

The still night's air echoed with the sounds Messemprar had dreaded for over a year: screams of pain and anguish, the whip-crack of fires burning out of control, the ring of martial horns, the shouts and imprecations of soldiers fighting a determined last stand. The scents of smoke, blood, and fear filtered their way through the city.

It was cold consolation that the sounds were not caused by the pharaoh's army. Many in the city would choose defeat over the return of Gilgeam.

Kehrsyn and Demok walked with Tiglath at the head of the Tiamatan cultists, marching in formation and arrayed for war. Their heavy scale (was there any armor better suited to dragon worshipers? thought Kehrsyn) clanked as they strode forward. Most carried war picks or maces with the heads shaped into dragon's heads. A few others had wide-bladed swords with fanciful dragon's head hand guards shaped to make the serrated blades look like fire emitting from the mouths. In the center of the squad, five fighters carried arbalests, crossbows so powerful that they required winches to be cocked. Kehrsyn's keen eyes caught the sheen of silver coating the quarrels they carried in open cases at their hips.

Every Tiamatan in the group carried a large, pentagonal shield embossed and painted with the symbol of a five-headed dragon, each head in a different color.

Throughout the city, fearful citizens peered out of windows to see what was happening. They watched as the Tiamatan force moved through the streets, then withdrew again to bar the doors and windows and whisper among themselves.

Tiglath moved in Demok's shadow, trusting the experienced swordsman to keep her safe. She kept her head bowed over the Alabaster Staff, working spells of revelation to better understand the artifact she held in her hand. Tremor, her dragonet, clutched her armor and craned his neck forward as well, sniffing at the artifact. Under the coaxing of her magic, the powerful glow of the wand's aura provided more than enough light for everyone to see. Tiglath had to squint even to look at the staff.

The sounds of sporadic battle grew louder, until Demok held up one hand and clenched it into a fist.

"Hold," he said. He turned to Tiglath, shielding his eyes from the bright glow of the staff. "Time," he said.