Uramar studied the stocky, tattooed war mage with the luminous blue eyes and the tall, golden-haired elementalist with the fiery staff. It wasn t difficult. As people commonly reckoned distance, they were only a couple of paces away. In another, equally valid sense, they and their frustration occupied a completely different world.

From their remarks to one another, Uramar gathered that the frustration stemmed partly from the fact that the tattooed man was accustomed to seeing whatever existed to be seen. But at the moment, it was his misfortune to be looking for something invisible to any form of vision, even truesight.

Uramar s invisibility gave him an advantage. He could spring forth and strike by surprise. As his hands clenched on the hilt of his greatsword, an assortment of his broken souls whispered to him.

Kill them

It will be easy

Kill them, reanimate them, and then they can serve our cause

But as was often the case, other voices disagreed.

No. You saw how formidable they are

If there was only one, yes, but there are two

Don t risk giving away our secrets. A better opportunity will surely come along

For a moment, the clamor set pain throbbing in Uramar s temples, and he staggered a step and groaned. Then the contradiction resolved itself, and he knew that he should indeed wait.

Such being the case, there was no point in letting proximity to the mortals tantalize the more bloodthirsty parts of his nature any further. He turned and crept away. Instinct made him silent even though he knew that really, the folk behind him wouldn t notice even if he shouted at the top of his mismatched lungs.

Jhesrhi had noticed that few structures in Immilmar looked particularly new. Apparently Rashemi saw little reason to put up a new building until an old one had rotted out and fallen down. But even by local standards, the whitewashed longhouse called the Witches Hall had an air of antiquity about it. It was easy to believe that the dragons, unicorns, and hounds carved under the eaves had glared their forbiddance at the first Iron Lord to walk the city s muddy, unpaved streets.

And forbiddance it would surely have been, for as the summons had made clear, even when the Wychlaran saw fit to call nonhathrans to their sanctuary, that didn t mean they were invited into the sacred precincts of the hall. As Jhesrhi, Aoth, and Cera approached, a masked woman stepped forward from her post before the front entrance and gestured for the newcomers to follow her.

She led them around to the south side of the longhouse, where someone had either dug out a small amphitheater or had taken advantage of a natural depression in the ground to fashion one. Somebody had removed some of the snow, too, but Jhesrhi suspected the plank benches would still make cold, damp seating for those who, unlike her, didn t have fire flowing in their veins.

By the Pure Flame, Aoth muttered.

When Jhesrhi glanced around, she saw what had annoyed him. She knew he d hoped the summons was for him and his comrades alone, or at worst for them, Vandar, and other representatives of the Griffon Lodge. Plainly that wasn t the case, for Dai Shan, the leader of the Shou, and Mario Bez were approaching, each accompanied by several of his men. The skyship captain shot Aoth a grin as he made a point of claiming a seat right beside him.

The heroes of the day, Bez said. Congratulations.

We were ready for them, Aoth replied with a shrug.

Still, even for dragon slayers, it can t have been easy to contend with undead spellcasters and superior numbers, the captain said. You should have told me what you intended. I could have spared a few men to stay and lie in wait with you.

And win the Storm of Vengeance a share of the credit if the killers actually did show up? Cera asked.

Bez spread his hands in mock dismay. Sunlady, you wound me, he said. Naturally, my concern would have been your safety, and Lady Jhesrhi s.

Jhesrhi decided there was no reason to pay further attention to what Bez had to say. He was more than likely sniffing for information which Aoth and Cera were too wary to give him and his was the sort of oblique, bantering conversation that made her feel tongue-tied and dull. Well, except sometimes, when it was Gaedynn

With a scowl, Jhesrhi pushed the archer s face with its shrewd eyes and flippant smirk out of her mind. In search of distraction, she watched Mangan Uruk, Vandar, and Folcoerr Dulsaer arrive. The berserker wore his beadwork regalia, and the half-elf had a sneer for each of his rivals.

Almost as soon as everyone had found a seat, they all had to stand up again as masked witches filed out of the longhouse.

They were not alone. Ghostly telthors flew, padded, bounded, scurried, or crawled along with them. In that first moment, Jhesrhi made out a hawk, a vulture, two bears, a squirrel, an otter, and a snake. Many of the creatures flickered, visible one instant and gone the next. None left any tracks in the snow. Their profusion reminded Jhesri that Rashemen was filled with nature spirits.

A number of the smaller familiars accompanied their mistresses to their seats on the benches. The others looked down on the assembled humans from the top of the amphitheater, or perched on the limbs of nearby trees.

One hathran had no phantom companion that Jhesrhi could see. Clad in a simple leather mask and brown hooded robe, she remained standing at the bottom of the amphitheater, and, when she was ready, slashed a bluewood wand through an intricate figure. Nothing overt happened as a result. Maybe it was simply a way of asking the gods to bless the gathering, for a hathran s arts were a mixture of the priestly and the arcane. It was a disorderly hodgepodge to Jhesrhi s way of thinking, but maybe she wasn t giving the barbarians enough credit.

Be seated, said the witch. She had a cold contralto voice that carried well. Many of you know me, but not all. I m Yhelbruna. With the help of Vandar Cherlinka, I brought the griffons down from the mountains. I m also the one who cast the runes and determined that it isn t necessarily the will of the spirits that this living treasure remain in Rashemen, disappointing and bewildering as that seemed. Word of the beasts existence, the news that drew Aglarondans, Theskians, and sellswords here, went out at my behest.

At times, she continued, an unexpected wry note entering her voice, I regretted that action, for you travelers began to arrive, and, to my embarrassment and the Iron Lord s, I still had no clear idea of the spirits plan for the griffons. But in light of recent events, and after prayer and meditation, I do now.

Aoth leaned forward. Cera took his hand and gave it a squeeze.

Bez called, Who gets the animals, then? Don t keep us in suspense.

Although their masks, voluminous garments, and air of aloof dignity made it difficult to be certain, Jhesrhi had the feeling that some of the hathrans were taken aback that he d had the temerity to speak without permission.

Yhelbruna, however, answered without any show of resentment.

I have no wish to keep you in suspense, Captain, and I promise I ll give you an answer soon enough, she said.

But there are things you need to hear first in order to understand it.

Aoth snorted. Leaning toward Cera, and Jhesrhi on the other side of her, he whispered, Someday a matter will be simple and straightforward again, and we ll realize we ve forgotten how to react.

For about a year, Yhelbruna continued, the undead have been troubling Rashemen. This, of course, is scarcely a unique occurrence. Our land is rich in magic and old as well. In ages past, it was home to folk who trafficked with dark powers. It s the kind of place where the dead are going to wake and walk from time to time.