"Did you now?"

"Besides," the soldier continued, "they're just peasants. Just Rashe-" It dawned on him that he might not be taking a wise tactic in light of his commander's suspect ancestry, and the words caught in his throat.

"The two of you," said Aoth, "pick up your fellow imbecile and get out of here. I'll deal with you shortly." They did as instructed, and then Aoth turned to Bareris. "I trust you know songs to calm this girl, and to ease her parents' hurts."

"Yes," Bareris said. He applied the remedies as best he could, even though charms of solace and healing no longer came to him as naturally as they once had.

With the parents back on their feet and the girl huddling in her mother's arms, Aoth offered his apologies and a handful of silver. The father seemed to think the coins were some sort of trap, for he proved reluctant to accept them. Aoth left the money on the table on his way out.

"What's the punishment?" Bareris asked. As the miscreants' immediate superior, he was the one responsible for administering discipline.

"Hang the bastards," Aoth replied.

"You don't mean that."

"They deserve it. But you're right. Nymia would string meup if I executed two of her griffon riders just for mistreating a family of farmers, especially on the eve of a major battle. So five lashes each, but not yet. Let them sweat while you and I have a talk."

"As you wish." They'd already been talking when the soldier came to fetch them, but Bareris inferred that Aoth had something more private in mind. Sure enough, the war mage led him all the way through the cluster of huts and cottages. The men-at-arms watched as their officers tramped by.

Beyond the farmhouses were fields and pastures, which gave way to rolling grasslands that made up the greater part of Tyraturos. Bareris scrutinized the landscape stretched out beneath the evening sky, still banded with gold where the sun had made its farewell, and charcoal gray high above.

Earlier that day, they'd ascertained that the bulk of Szass Tam's army was marching well to the northwest, and it was unlikely that even the lich's scouts and outriders had strayed this far from the main column. Still, it paid to be cautious.

Aoth led his friend to a pen made of split rails. It held no animals, only a scattering of leprous-looking toadstools. The war mage heaved himself up to sit on the fence, and Bareris climbed up beside him.

"Well," said Aoth. "Ten years since I discovered you and Mirror hiking out of the Sunrise Mountains."

Responding to his name, Mirror wavered into view. Maybe he'd been with them all along. For a moment, the phantom resembled the bard, then Aoth, and then settled into a blurred gray shadow that scarcely possessed a face at all. His presence chilled the air.

Aoth acknowledged the ghost with a nod. "Ten years since we started fighting Szass Tam."

"Yes," Bareris said.

"Have you ever thought it might be time to stop?"

Bareris cocked his head. A strand of hair spilled across his eye and he pushed it up, noticing in passing just how matted and greasy it was. "I don't know what you mean."

"A griffon rider could be out of Thay before anyone even realized he'd decided to leave, and then, well, Faerыn's a big place, with plenty of opportunities for a fellow who knows how to cast spells or swing a sword."

"This is just blather. You'd never abandon your men."

"We'll invite them to come along. Think how much a foreign prince will pay to employ an entire company of griffon riders."

"You must be tired if that unpleasantness back in the hut upset you as much as this."

"It wasn't that. At most, that was the last little weight that finally tipped the scale. Do you ever ask yourself why we're fighting?"

"To destroy Szass Tam, or at least to keep him from making himself overlord."

"And why is that important, when he has as much right to rule Thay as anyone? When the lords who oppose him are just as untrustworthy and indifferent to anything but their own interests?"

"Because they aren't. Not quite, anyway. Don't you remember? We made up our minds on the subject back in that grove, when the necromancer came to speak with us."

"Yes, but over the course of a decade, a man can change his opinion. Consider this. Samas Kul cast his lot with the lich for a season or two. Yaphyll's allied with him now. Half the tharchions jump back and forth like frogs. By the Abyss, I doubt that even Nymia would stay loyal if she thought she'd fare better on the other side, and then where would you and I be with our preferences and principles?"

"It's more sensible," Bareris said, "to consider where you actually are. Our mistress and the zulkirs have treated you well. They've given you command of the Griffon Legion and purses full of gold."

"Things I never wanted. I was happy as I was. If they want to reward me, I wish it could be with their respect. Respect for my judgment and experience." Aoth shifted slightly atop the fence.

"Now I see. They offended you by rejecting your advice. But I'll be honest with you. It isn't plain to me that you were right and they were wrong."

"It isn't plain to me, either, but I feel it, just as I've sensed such things once or twice before. We believe we've out-thought the enemy, but we haven't. Something nasty is going to happen at the Keep of Sorrows, and I'd rather be far away when it does."

"You say that, but I know you're not a coward," Bareris said.

"You're right. I have my share of courage, or at least I hope I do. What I lack is a cause worth risking my life over. For a long while, I thought I was fighting to save the green, bountiful Thay of my boyhood, but look around you. That realm's already dead, trampled by armies and poisoned by battle sorcery. I'm not a necromancer, and I don't want to waste the rest of my days trying to animate the rotting husk that remains."

"And neither should you," Aoth continued. "I understand why you fight-to avenge Tammith. But from all you've told me, she'd weep to see what your compulsion has made of you-a bard who never sings except to kill. I think she'd want you to lay down your grief and hatred and start life anew."

He's made up his mind, Bareris realized. He's going to saddle Brightwing and disappear into the sky, even if I refuse to go with him.

And that would be a disaster. Aoth had matured into one of the most formidable champions in the south. The cause could ill afford to lose him, and it certainly couldn't manage without all the griffon riders, who might well follow where their captain led.

Bareris would have to stop him.

"You know me too well," he said, infusing his speech with enchantment. "It is hate that drives me, and I won't pretend otherwise. But your judgment is too pessimistic where our homeland is concerned. What sorcery has broken, it can mend. Given a chance, the old Thay will rise again, blue skies, thriving plantations, mile-long merchant caravans, and all."

Aoth's eyelids fluttered. He gave his head a shake as if it felt muddled and he needed to clear it. "Well, it's possible, I suppose. But for it to flower again in our lifetime-"

"We need to win the war quickly," Bareris said, "before it further fouls the earth, water, and air, and further depopulates the countryside. I agree, the zulkirs agree, and that's why they intend to strike hard at the opening Szass Tam is giving them. You see the sense in it, don't you?"

"Yes," Aoth admitted, his speech ever soslightly slurred. "I do understand, just as I understand that they're cunning, and mine is only one dissenting voice. It's just…" He seemed unable to complete his thought.

"If you understand, then help! Keep your oath. Stand with me and the rest of your friends. If we win, you'll share in the glory and all the good things that will follow. If we lose, at least you won't live out your life wracked with a betrayer's guilt, wondering whether your prowess might have meant the difference."