Thomas Reid - The Emerald Scepter

Grozier nodded. "I think that's a fine idea," he said, then turned and nodded to Bartimus as he released the wizard's arm. Though his employer didn't notice it, Bartimus saw Falagh glower and shake his head.

For the briefest of moments, Bartimus contemplated just whisking himself back to his own chambers, leaving the other two men behind to sort their conflict without him. He did not much care for their company when they bickered, which was happening more and more frequently. Then he dismissed the thought and conjured the magical doorway, concentrating to anchor the opposite end in the sitting room, as Grozier-and Falagh-had instructed.

One by one, the three men stepped through.

Bartimus sought his favorite corner and waited to be of some use. Grozier began to pace and Falagh sent a servant scurrying for glasses and a decanter of something to drink.

"Make it something strong," the man ordered, then sat down on one of several sofas to wait. "Unbelievable," he muttered, and Bartimus wasn't certain whether he was speaking about Grozier's behavior or Lavant's.

"All right," Grozier began, oblivious to Falagh's continued disapproval. "Let's work through this and figure out what that fat toad is up to." He began ticking points off one at a time on his fingers. "First, he puts together a business deal between my House, the Pharaboldis, and the Matrells."

Falagh grimaced but nodded. "A reasonable, if ambitious, effort. Lots of investment up front, very little return early on. Something that few other Houses in Arrabar would agree to, given the risks and outlay of coin." He shook his head. "Looking at it from that perspective, it begins to sound like a real confidence job. Notice that the temple has nothing invested in the venture, Grozier."

"Right," Grozier answered. "The temple's gains would be through favorable contracts. We need an army, the temple can supply one. I always assumed that he was just generating business for the glory of Waukeen."

"Perhaps," Falagh said, stroking his moustache as he thought. "Heavy skirmishing was a key part of the plan, that's for certain."

At that moment, the servant returned bearing a tray with crystal ware and a decanter with a fiery red liquid inside. Bartimus noted that another figure followed the servant. It was Lobra. She crossed to a chair in a corner of the room and sat down, ignoring Falagh's brief frown as he stared at her.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, sounding somewhat put out. "I thought you were tormenting the Matrell girl."

"I got bored," was all she would say in response. "My 'brother' is still with her, though," she added, adopting a rather unpleasant smile.

Falagh grunted and turned back to the discussion. "So, why did Lavant's plan hinge on skirmishes to drive up the cost of lumber?" he asked, stroking his moustache again. He stood up as a revelation seemed to strike him. "Not just a little skirmishing, but out and out war," he said. "Lavant wanted to see full-scale war in the region. The lumber scheme was just an excuse to stir up hardship in the area. We improve lumber prices by controlling supply militarily. And if it gets out of hand, so what? The temple benefits regardless. He played us perfectly," Mestel snarled.

Grozier shook his head, seeming uncertain. "Why go to all that trouble just to generate conflict? There's enough war in all of Faerun to keep the temple armies steadily employed without our help."

Falagh shrugged. "Maybe to justify it to the Waukeenar. Their motive is profit, not war. It probably wouldn't set well with the rest of the clergy to start a war for war's sake alone. So he fabricated our ill-fated lumber empire to cover it all up."

Grozier nodded, looking grave. "But that just seems to come full circle without accomplishing anything. And it doesn't explain the zombies."

Falagh shrugged again. "What difference does it make? We gave him what he wanted, and now we're left holding the empty coin purse while he feeds the flames of war. Nine Hells, maybe he needed the undead to underscore just how valuable a mercenary army of priests would be, where other forces fall short."

"But they had to come from somewhere else, right?" Grozier said, his expression full of doubt. "None of the plans we developed involved necromancy. If he was behind the zombies, then he had to get someone else involved, someone we don't know about."

Bartimus realized the answer was on the tip of his tongue, so he spoke it aloud before anyone else did. "Lord Wianar."

Falagh turned to look at the wizard as Grozier stopped pacing, realization making them both gape. "Ah, yes," Falagh said, pursing his lips. "Our dear Shining Lord. Zombies would be just his touch. But why?"

"He is always fostering war," Grozier said, shrugging. "Why is this any different?"

"He's always fostering war among the great Houses of Arrabar," Falagh corrected. "He likes to see us squabbling, to be sure-it leaves us little time to challenge him directly. But this is in Reth. He doesn't even have a claim to-"

Bartimus saw Falagh sit up straighter then, a look of profound understanding mixed with something… horrific… upon his face. He imagined his own expression must have been similar, for a most unsettling thought had crossed his mind at about that same moment.

"He's letting Lavant destabilize the region so he can conquer it," Falagh uttered, an incredulous look upon his face. "He wants to bring Reth back into the fold."

"That's preposterous," Grozier said, shaking his head as if he doubted his own thoughts. "He would have to react so quickly, be ready to pounce at a moment's notice to take advantage of the chaos. He would need major armed forces in the field right now to do such a thing."

"Such as, perhaps, the kinds of mercenary forces that could be put together with sizeable contributions from three Houses?" Falagh suggested, giving Grozier a knowing stare. "Talricci, we've been played, but good."

Grozier sank down onto the sofa and placed his head in his hands. "We have," he agreed. "We let Roundface and Lavant handle so many of the details, let them serve as go-betweens and deal with our armies in the field. We are fools!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the room.

None of the men spoke. Each was absorbed in his own thoughts, his own painful realizations. Finally, Grozier raised his head again. "So, what do we do now? How do we regain control and get something out of this?"

Falagh shook his head. "No, no. I'm not going to put a twist on this whole mess and place my House between Lord Wianar and his objectives. If he wants to expand Chondath's borders, the two of us can't hope to stop him. That's a fool's errand."

"But we can't just let it all slip through our fingers," Grozier argued, sounding on the verge of wailing. "I've invested far too much into this enterprise! House Talricci will be ruined!"

"As will House Pharaboldi," Falagh said, shrugging. "Fortunately, Lobra will have House Mestel to fall back on. In fact, my family will most likely just absorb her assets, to recoup our own investments, of course," he added, turning to look at his wife.

She seemed completely unfazed by her husband's words.

"Don't you dare back out of this now," Grozier growled, standing and squaring himself to Falagh. "Don't you leave me hanging in the midst of this. I'll kill you."

Falagh raised his eyebrows, giving Grozier a disapproving look. "Oh, do you think so?" he said sardonically. "Big words from someone standing in a house filled with another man's guards."

"You forget," Grozier said smugly, "that my wizard there can deal with your House guards quite effectively."

No! Bartimus thought, groaning. Don't bring me into the middle of this!

"Get out," Falagh said, his voice cold. "Out of this house right now."

Grozier sniffed. "I think not," he said, and Bartimus wondered why his employer would choose to make a stand right then, with the odds arrayed against them.