"Good dog," Tammith said.

Tsagoth bared his fangs. "Do you really think it wise to mock me? Your powers are just a debased and feeble echo of mine. I can destroy you in an instant if I choose. But I'd just as soon reason with you."

Tammith shrugged. "Reason away, then." At least a conversation would give her time to ponder tactics.

"You hate our masters," he said. "I understand. So do I. But you thrive in their service. You're a celebrated warrior, and Szass Tam promises you'll be a rich noblewoman after he wins the war."

"I don't want gold or station. I want my freedom."

"Your freedom to do what and go where? Where, except in Szass Tam's orbit, is there a place for a creature like you? And even if it were possible for you to escape me, where could you be safe from the other hunters the lich would send after you?"

"I don't know yet, but I'll figure it out."

"You understand, the blue fires are still raging back and forth across the world destroying all they touch. The earthquakes are still shaking towns to rubble. It's the worst possible time to forsake your allies and strike out on your own."

"Or the best. The necromancers may decide they have more important things to think about than chasing after me."

"At least return to the castle and ponder a while longer. Don't act recklessly."

"I don't have 'a while longer.'" She smiled. "You truly don't want to fight me, do you? Because you sympathize with me. You wish you could do what I'm doing."

He glared as if she'd insulted him even more egregiously than before. "I don't sympathize with anyone, least of all one of your puny kind! But of course, I've tried to break my own bonds. It's like a vile joke that the blue fire liberated common ghouls and spectres and left a blood fiend in his chains."

"Try again," Tammith said. "Don't fight me. Change into your bat guise and fly away with me."

"I can't." Suddenly, he sprang at her.

Fortunately, she was ready. She whirled out of the way and drew her sword, then cut at Tsagoth as he lunged by.

The enchanted blade bit deep into Tsagoth's back, staggering him. She ripped it free and slashed again.

Tsagoth spun back around to face her. His left arm swept downward to meet her blade. The weapon sliced his wrist, but it was only a nick, and the block kept the sword from cutting another gash in his torso.

At the same time, he raked at her with his upper hands. She recoiled, and his claws tore through her sturdy leather jerkin to score the flesh beneath. If she hadn't snatched herself backward, great chunks of flesh would have been torn away.

She leaped farther back, simultaneously extending her sword to spit him if he charged. He didn't, and they started circling.

He gazed into her eyes and sent the force of his psyche stabbing at her like a poniard. She felt a kind of jolt, but nothing that froze her in place or crushed her will to resist. She tried the same tactic on him, with a similar lack of success.

Her wounds itched as they closed. The cut on Tsagoth's wrist was already gone, and no doubt the more serious wound on his back was healing too. In theory, they could duel the night away, each suffering but never quite succumbing to an endless succession of ghastly injuries. Until the sun rose, when she'd burn and he wouldn't.

But it was unlikely to come to that. As he'd boasted, he was the stronger, and if she couldn't beat him quickly, he was apt to wear her into helplessness well before dawn.

He murmured a word and ragged flares of power in a dazzling array of colors exploded from a central point like a garish flower blooming in a single instant. Tammith was close enough that the leading edge of the blast washed over her and seared her like acid.

Even as she staggered, she realized her foe had wounded her but likewise given her an opportunity. Fighting in a war of wizards, she'd seen this same attack, and understood how it worked when it achieved its full effect. Perhaps she could convince Tsagoth that it had done so. It all depended on her skill at pantomime.

She fell on her rump as if her mind and body were reacting too slowly for her to catch her balance. She dropped her jaw in what she hoped was a convincing expression of surprised dismay and started to rise, all with the same exaggerated lethargy.

Tsagoth sprang at her, all four hands poised to snatch and rend. She waited until the last instant, then abandoned her pretence of sluggishness and thrust the point of her sword at his chest.

She knew the ruse had fooled him when he failed to defend himself in time. The blade plunged into his heart.

He kept clawing at her, but for a moment, the shock of the injury made his efforts clumsy, and except for a scratch down the side of her face, she was unharmed. She tore her sword free and slashed open his belly. Guts came sliding out.

He plunged his talons into her shoulder and nearly tore her arm off. It wasn't her sword arm, but it might be next time, or he might manage something even worse, because his wounds were no longer slowing him.

She had to finish this exchange quickly. One sword couldn't parry four sets of talons for long. She dodged out of his way, swung the blade high, and sheared into his luminous scarlet eyes. Then she broke apart into bats, localizing the injury of her mangled shoulder in one crippled, expendable specimen.

The bats flew in the general direction of the Keep of Sorrows, the weak one trailing behind the others. She made sure their wings rustled audibly.

Tsagoth peered after her. Two red gleams appeared above his muzzle as his eyes reformed. Tammith could only hope they couldn't yet see as well as before, and that the desire to catch her and hurt her had pushed every other thought out of his head.

He vanished and instantly reappeared in her path, hands raised to rip the bats out of the air. He didn't realize that by shifting through space as he had, he'd placed himself directly in front of one of the squid-things that still showed signs of animation. Now, if the giant would only react!

It did. Trailing filthy tatters of mummy wrappings, a gigantic tentacle rose and slammed down on top of the blood fiend's head, smashing him to the ground. Then it coiled around him, picked him up, and squeezed. Bones cracked and their jagged ends jabbed through his scaly hide.

Ready to dodge, Tammith waited to see if the leviathan would strike at her, too, but it didn't. A scattered swarm of bats evidently wasn't as provocative a target as a nine-foot-tall undead demon.

She wasn't certain that even the squid-thing could destroy Tsagoth, but she was confident he wouldn't pursue her any time soon. As she swirled upward, she pondered one of the questions her adversary had posed: Where, indeed, could she go now?

Situated at a juncture of secondary roads, Zolum was a humdrum farmer's market of a town. As far as Dmitra could recall, she'd never visited the place before, and she felt none the poorer for it.

But at the moment, it possessed two attractions. Even for battle-weary legions, it was only a few days' march east of the Keep of Sorrows, and it was still standing. No wave of blue flame had obliterated it, nor had any earthquake knocked it down. So the council's army had crowded in, compelling the burghers to billet soldiers who ate their larders bare.

As Zolum was second-rate, so too was the hall of its autharch with its flickering oil lamps, plain oak floor, and simple cloth banners, devoid of gems or magical enhancements. In other circumstances, some of Dmitra's fellow dignitaries might have sneered at the chamber's provincial appointments, or groused about a lack of luxuries. Not now, though. Everyone had more important things to think about.