Maligor didn't respond at first, letting the silence linger. He feigned looking disconcerted and cast his eyes downward at his slippered feet.

"Well, there is that about the land," Maligor admitted, allowing himself an evil grin. "I suppose the property's position is just as important as the richness of its soil."

"I want half the land," Szass Tam demanded quietly. "That will keep you from becoming too strong. And I will not help you," he added in a tone that brooked no dissension. "I will not muster any undead to draw attention away from you-and to me. I will not give you a portion of my army to aid in your plan. However, I will not oppose you, and that is of consequence. Nor will I spread word of your scheme."

"I could indeed expect no more from you," Maligor said graciously, accepting the lich's part in his ruse, "and when I am successful, half the land will be yours. We are agreed, then?"

The image of the lich wavered, became ghostlike, then melted away.

"We are agreed," the air replied.

Maligor felt the presence depart. Then he concentrated to shield his mind from any further interruptions and closed the barred windows. His plans couldn't be progressing better, he thought, delighted that the lich seemed certain of his target. But Maligor knew the Zulkir of Necromancy, knew that he was capable of backstabbing and twisting promises. No doubt the lich planned to take all of Rembert Wellford's land once it was in the hands of Maligor's gnolls. The lich wouldn't settle for a mere half, and taking all of it would be a likely double cross. Or, far less likely, perhaps Szass Tam would try to take the land before Maligor's gnolls could get there.

Perhaps the gnolls truly will have to move against Rembert to keep the lich satisfied and unsuspecting, Maligor thought. And if a young, power-hungry Rembert had to fall to mask the real plan, it would be an added benefit. Then there was Asp, the zulkir added to himself. He would no longer be lying to the naga if he really did go after an important piece of land.

Maligor padded to his marble-topped table, pushed aside his cold plate of boiled fish, and placed a page of parchment before him. Dipping a quill in honey-scented ink, he began to pen a spell. Four completed scrolls, neatly tied with cord, lay on the right-hand corner of his table. Next to them lay a half-dozen blank scrolls waiting for Maligor's attention. He sipped a glass of spiced blackberry wine between passages.

The Zulkir of Alteration was obsessed with increasing his darkenbeast army. Under cover of last night's darkness, he had moved half his force, along with their inhuman guardians, to the basement of an abandoned grain mill north of Amruthar. That left room in the tower's lower level for more darkenbeasts.

Maligor recognized his limitations. A human mind could hold only so many spells within it, only enough to let him create four or five dozen darkenbeasts a day. However, by transferring those spells onto paper instead-the scrolls in front of him-he would be able to create far more of the beasts tomorrow. He had been adding to his magical scroll collection, having nearly two dozen now. Tomorrow, or perhaps the next day, he would read them all, transforming every loose rodent and caged animal in his tower into a deadly creature.

That many darkenbeasts should be enough, he thought. Maligor paused, then decided to take stock of his other magical constructs and servants. It wouldn't do to take all of his forces out of the tower and leave it unprotected. He took mental inventory of his golems, magical creatures that were manlike in form but were made of stone and clay. They moved slowly, but they were relentless and powerful, and some were ensorcelled with special powers that allowed them to breathe flame. He also had a dozen apprentices here, only half of which he would take with him to the gold mines. The remainder should have enough defensive spells to keep anyone who might make it past his magical guards and wards and golems at bay. There were also the gnoll tower guards and slaves, should anyone be so foolish to attack his holdings.

All of that should be more than enough, if for some reason another Red Wizard decided to attack his keep while he was gone. However, he remained confident that all energies would be directed against his gnolls and their false battle plans.

Reveling in the intricacies of his scheme, the Red Wizard went to the cabinet and retrieved more blank scrolls. More darkenbeasts, he thought-many, many more darkenbeasts. He resumed penning the enchanted scrolls.

In his library, Szass Tam leaned back in his chair, staring at the clear crystal ball that sparkled in the light of the thick tapers. It was undeniable that Maligor had lied to him; the Zulkir of Alteration would have no reason to tell the lich what he really intended to do with the gnolls.

Szass Tam reverently pushed the crystal ball to the side of his desk and cleared a larger space in the center. He rose, paced to a map holder, and ran a slender, bony finger over the unmarked tubular map cases. The lich selected the center tube, which contained a map showing an overview of the central portion of Thay. He returned to his desk and pulled the map from its container. Spreading the clothlike parchment out on the desk, he placed a candle on each corner to weigh it down and prevent it from curling. Amruthar showed several inches from the western edge of the map.

Running his left index finger from Amruthar to the land now held by Rembert Wellford, the lich imagined Maligor's gnolls marching on the young illusionist.

One thing was certain, Szass Tam decided. Maligor wasn't interested in Wellford's holdings. The lich studied maps of Thay until well in the evening, formulating possible uses for the gnolls and probable targets. He was frustrated, however, finding nothing that stood out as Maligor's likely goal. He resigned himself to continuing his postulations and to keeping his "agreement" with the Zulkir of Alteration.

It was well after midnight when a weary Charmaine rapped on the door. "So sorry to disturb you, master," she said, her voice muffled behind the wood, "but one of your minions insists on speaking with you."

Szass Tam put on his fleshly form and gestured toward the door. It creaked open, revealing Charmaine, in her bedclothes, holding a candle. A ghoul stood next to her, attempting to keep its distance from the flame. The undead man shuffled forward, bits of its rotting flesh clinging to the doorframe as it passed through. The ghoul at one time had been a jeweler in Eltabar; gold glinted from around his wrists and neck where his neck chain and bracelets had imbedded themselves in rotting flesh. Pieces of expensive clothing still hung on his unnaturally thin frame.

"Will there be anything else, master?" Charmaine queried softly.

"No. You may go."

Charmaine gracefully retreated down the hall, the candlelight marking her passage.

The lich turned to face the undead creature as it ambled toward him. The ghoul had difficulty speaking, since half of its lower jaw was missing. Szass Tam opted to pull the information from its undead mind rather than translate its guttural words into understandable conversation.

The ghoul told Szass Tam of the patrol he was a part of, how they had spotted movement and heard voices in a small grove of trees and how the ghouls had hungrily moved in to investigate. In the center of the trees were three humans, one of them likely Thayvian because of his bald head, and a centaur. The bald man died quickly, but the others were unusually strong and resourceful, killing most of the ghoul patrol. It told its master how it escaped to relay this information directly, since somehow in its decomposing brain, it believed the information was important.