Naglatha could see her other bodyguard, similarly outfitted, kept his station in the doorway, however, and did not enter the room. Milos Longreach had served his mistress for many years, and he knew better than to enter into her presence unless the danger was real, or if she beckoned him. Naglatha smiled at his wisdom and knew she couM trust his ability to wield his massive scimitar if truly needed. She turned her attention to the other and sighed in resignation.

Heraclos the Quick was a relatively recent addition to Naglatha's stable. The previous "eunuch," who had served her well and longer than Milos, had met an untimely accident a few years back, and Naglatha had been forced to find a replacement. Heraclos had come somewhat recommended with the caveat that he needed breaking. Naglatha accepted his service, sure she could master him quickly. Unfortunately for both of them, Heraclos bore more than a few scars from her efforts at training.

"What brings you into my chamber," she demanded, "unbidden and unwashed?"

Heraclos slowly approached her bed and lowered himself to one knee. "Mistress," he offered, "I feared for your safety."

Naglatha made a show of investigating the ornate and obviously empty room before she turned her gaze back to the guard. "Explain yourself," she ordered.

With the color slowly rising to his cheeks, Heraclos said, "My lady, in my few years of service, I have never known you to fall asleep at mid-day. And so soundly, too," he added. "I know you must be weary. We made the journey back here from Selgaunt in record time, but still, when you did not answer the first of my knocks, I wondered what had happened." He lowered his head after that and awaited his mistress's punishment. He did not have to wait long.

Naglatha pulled back her bed sheets, swung her legs to the floor and withdrew a long, thin rapier she had secreted next to her. While still seated on the bed, she placed the tip of the sword under her servant's chin and raised his face with it until she caught his eye.

"You will never," she said vehemently, "enter this chamber unless you have just cause to suspect my immediate peril." The rapier made a thin hiss in the air as she sliced Heraclos up his left cheek. "Do you understand?" she questioned him in a deadly whisper.

A second hiss and blood flowed down his right cheek as well.

"Yes, Mistress," he answered submissively.

"Good," she smiled at him. "Now go and clean up. And," she added, "do not return until I summon you."

"Yes, my lady," he replied and left the chamber swiftly.

Naglatha sighed and reached over to the end of the bed, where she had carelessly tossed her robe before she had lain down for her brief nap. She slipped the rich garment over her and savored the feel of the scarlet material against her bare shoulders. Only in private did she don the clothing that marked her true station as a Red Wizard. Most of her time was spent in clandestine service of her fellow wizards, and her identity had to remain a secret. That was one of the reasons she had not shaved her head in true Thayan fashion, nor sported any visible tattoos as did many for ornamentation and protection. The other reason she did not cut her hair was because Naglatha reveled in its heavy weight and ebony color. Her hair was so black that it actual^ glinted blue in the right light. She was proud of her mane.

She put her arms in the air and let her head fall back, stretching the muscles along her neck and spine like a cat. When she straightened, she moved over to the heavy drapes and threw them open. Bright sunlight streamed through. Naglatha was loathe to admit to her servant that he was right: she normally didn't sleep while the sun still rode high in the sky. Then again, she had never had to return so quickly from Sembia to Thay before. She padded barefoot over to the large desk she had requested from the innkeeper to review her plans.

On one of the two chairs by the desk was a small bag. Naglatha began to empty the contents onto the writing table. As she rifled through her own belongings, she mused once again how she hated travel. Working out of Sembia and Thay was not bothersome in and of itself, only moving between the two cities and staying at inns along the way was. She longed for the comforts of her own homes, not the impersonal possessions of someone else, no matter how expensive they might be.

Naglatha removed a folded black robe. Like her red one, this cloak was also decadently soft and sumptuous. A matching mask with a strange, red insignia followed. She placed both items carefully on one of the chairs. She regarded the pile and, after a second thought, passed her hand over the collection. The robe and mask disappeared from sight, cloaked in an illusion that made them look like part of the chair. Naglatha pulled out a bundle of letters, neatly tied up. She dropped the empty satchel to the floor and sat down on that chair, untying the missives and spreading them out carefully on the wooden desk.

Most unusual was the correspondence at the top. The insignia on it was that of two clasped hands, one human and one skeletal: the mark of the Zulkir of

Necromancy, Szass Tam. Naglatha traced the design with one hand and propped up her head with the other. It was this message that had caused her to pack her belongings and make the mad dash back to Thay. A few Red Wizards knew of the presence of a secret, recruiting agent in Selgaunt by the name of The Black Flame. However, the Zulkir of Necromancy and the former chief of foreign activities, Alzegund the Trader, were the only two who knew Naglatha's true identity and understood the nature of her business there. With Alzegund dead nine years now, Szass Tam was the only one who could find her wherever she was in Selgaunt.

She read the note over again, still somewhat in shock. Szass Tam had called a meeting in the Thay-mount region. What was nearly unheard of was that he had invited all the tharchions and zulkirs who were available to attend the impromptu assembly. The numbers were startling, and the fact that the lich would ask all these Red Wizards to abandon their seats of power, no matter for how short a time, was historic. There was no way Naglatha could refuse, just as she knew no one else would either, regardless of the temporary cost and the outward protests they made.

Just what are yon planning, old lich, she wondered, and why?

Shaking her head, Naglatha replaced the note on the desk and sifted through the others. Some were letters sent directly to her, and some were notes that had been intercepted or stolen outright by her extensive network of spies and thieves. She had taken on the mantle of chief of foreign activities very seriously and with an aggressiveness never shown by her predecessor, Alzegund the Trader. Perhaps that was why, she often supposed, that no one looked too closely into the causes of his deadly "accident" and her sudden opportunity for advancement. Everyone, herself most of all, was pleased at the change.

She opened a small, worn register that contained the names of the Thayans who held positions of note within the borders of Thay. Naglatha had made a careful tally of each person's rank, and beside their name was one of three marks. The symbols, whose code was known only to her, signified whether that particular tharchion or zulkir was loyal, disloyal, or undecided in regards to Szass Tarn. A few remained guardedly neutral and were, therefore, questionable to Naglatha. She suspected some of them would only too gladly go over to the most powerful side of the moment if the scales were tipped.

One communique that stood out amongst the many was a brief note from Tharchion Azhir Kren of Gauros to Tharchion Homen Odesseiron in Surthay. Naglatha unconsciously shook her head in amazement when she thought of Homen Odesseiron. She had never in her life known of anyone who had willing stepped down from the rank of Red Wizard, but he had-and he had survived. He made little secret that he preferred to spend his time maintaining and drilling a sizeable army of his own rather than maintain his spells and magics. Many knew of his hatred of Rashe-men, but the tharchion did not reach his advanced age by chance. He was careful to always openly support Szass Tarn's policy of trade over war and did nothing to draw the lich's attention or ire upon himself. But a few knew full well that Homen Odesseiron did not believe in the path of commerce the Zulkir of Necromancy was leading Thay down. And no one knew this better than Tharchion Azhir Kren.