And also during that time, he would continue to work with the Council of Zulkirs, watching each zulkir closely and keeping abreast of all their schemes and dealings. Szass Tam would continue to note their weaknesses and strengths in order to decide how best to overcome them when the time was right to strike. That time would come far in the future, when some of the current zulkirs would be rotting in their graves, waiting for the lich to enlist them into his army. For now, the lich enjoyed toying with the other wizards; he would not move against them until he was certain he could crush all of them-and preferably all at once. He would not work with them individually in the meantime. He did not trust any of the other Red Wizards, and he regarded joining forces with them as a show of his own weakness.

Gazing at the crystal ball, Szass Tam saw the naga instructing a smaller group of gnolls who wore leather breastplates and were more heavily armed. Perhaps these are Maligor's generals, the lich mused. Asp was demanding better performance. The clang of swords covered up most of the conversation; the gnolls were working hard to improve.

Tiring of the display, the lich ran his hand over the crystal, and the colors reappeared, obscuring the scene. The glow from the ball faded, and Szass Tam pushed himself away from his desk, taking up the scarlet robe he had laid across the back of his chair and putting it on over his simple, long linen tunic. The robe hung loosely on the lich's cadaverous form. The folds draped to the floor and made the costly garment appear several sizes too large.

Szass Tam did nothing to mask his appearance when he was alone or with his undead minions. Only in public did he put on a truly human face-one of a tall, scholarly man with jet-black eyes and fleshy cheeks. To walk around looking like an undead creature would unnerve too many important Thayvians. He also knew that appearances were frequently deceiving in his country and that other zulkirs and their underlings also masked their true likenesses.

His frail-looking arms were nearly lost in the sleeves of the silken robe. The edges of the garment and the trim around the hood were embroidered with gold thread seeded with garnets. The lich enjoyed the fineries of human manufacture, like his expensive clothes and jewels. Others of his foul kind preferred to remain in the clothes they died in, looking like ill-preserved mummies and smelling like the grave. Szass Tam believed clothes presented an image, and thus he always decorated himself in the latest and most costly fashions.

He glided to the bookcase nearest the door and made a slight gesture with his left hand. Immediately he seemed to grow taller. The folds of the robe, which lay about his feet like a pool of blood, vanished, and in an instant, the hem barely touched the floor. The lich was floating, his slippered, skeletal feet dangling in the air. Pointing a bony finger toward the ceiling, he rose higher, ascending slowly, like a marionette pulled by invisible strings. He levitated up several feet, moving as a ghost, until his eyes were level with the topmost shelf. For several moments, he hovered in the air, studying the bindings of the books, which were worn and unreadable because of the passage of time. He grasped a thick red book from the center of the shelf and opened it to the first page to make sure it was the work he sought. Satisfied, he descended like a feather to the floor and padded from the room, reading the book as he went.

The volume was one of military strategies, a subject that the lich usually only had a passing interest in. He was curious about it now primarily because of Maligor's gnoll forces. Szass Tam glided through the halls of his fortified keep, passing skeletons, wights, mummies, and other creatures. He had four keeps in Thay; this was the largest, situated between Amruthar and Eltabar. It was ringed with graveyards, where more of his minions slept, waiting to be called to his defense if need be. The lands around this and his other keeps were patrolled by undead-in the evening with all manner of creatures, including several vampires and ghosts under his control, in the day by living men and by skeletons and zombies cloaked in heavy robes to help hide their appearance.

Szass Tam was more of a force to be feared after dark because his most powerful undead could only walk under the cover of darkness. Still, he knew the other zulkirs considered him too powerful a force to threaten even in bright daylight.

The lich continued to pace in his keep, lost in the writings of some long-dead general. It amused him that humans sought to gain land, influence, wealth, and glory through wars, only to lose all those things because of their mortality. He knew that Maligor had lived beyond a normal human lifespan. Most of the other zulkirs had also prolonged their lives by magical means. But Maligor was the oldest on the council other than Szass Tam, and the lich knew that the Zulkir of Alteration intended to live forever. However, Szass Tam was confident that Maligor didn't have the arcane ability to turn himself into a lich at the onset of his death. Drinking potions to extend his life would not work eternally. At some point, the magic would burn him up.

Why then does he vex me? Szass Tam wondered. Why do I bother to concern myself with Maligor's petty doings? Why do I waste my time watching him, watching his spirit naga? The lich persisted in questioning his own motives as he continued to scan the book.

It is my stance in Thay, he concluded, knowing the answer all along. If Maligor grows in power, that diminishes my power-even if nothing about me or my land is affected. I can't have that. No, I must do something about it, and I must do something without the other wizards learning I am taking action. But first I must discover what my living brother is up to.

Szass Tam hated mysteries.

The lich continued to peruse the book for several more hours, then returned to his library-laboratory to find the room plunged in darkness. The candles had burned themselves out and dripped wax onto the desktop. Cursing, Szass Tam pulled back a velvet curtain, letting moonlight pour into the room. He closed his eyes and thought of someone, and several minutes later she appeared with a cleaning rag in one hand and a bundle of new candles in the other.

The thin, pleasant-looking, middle-aged woman glanced at the zulkir, who now appeared as a tall, scholarly man with jet-black eyes and fleshy cheeks. She bowed to him, smiled, and moved to the desk.

"Sorry, master," she said quietly. "I should have known to check on you, but I thought the candles would burn longer, and I really didn't want to interrupt you. Forgive me. These should last a good while." The woman, one of three dozen living servants he harbored in his keep, busied herself removing each drop of wax from the desk and from around the pewter holders with a thin-bladed knife. Then she carefully put the new candles in place and lit them. The woman knew the desk was important to Szass Tam, being a very old "gift" from his mentor.

"Do you require anything else, master?"

Szass Tam smiled and shook his head. "That will be all, Charmaine," he said. The lich favored the woman, who had served him well for three decades. He provided her only with food; instead of gold, she sought immortality. The lich had promised to have one of his vampires give her eternal life when he was finished with her employment-probably in a few more years. Then she would continue to serve him faithfully forever.

Charmaine closed the door behind her. Szass Tam pulled the curtain shut, walked to his desk, and sat to gaze into the crystal ball again. It would be the last time he used it today-prolonged use was mentally taxing, even for him. It could also be dangerous. The longer the lich's mind remained linked to a scene in the ball, the more his consciousness wanted to stay there. He ran his now fleshy hand over the ball, felt its cool smoothness, and concentrated on Zulkir Maligor.