Red Magic (13 page)

Then the words began to pour from Willeth’s bleeding lips, detailed summaries of the spells and creatures that protected the mine, facts about the number of guards and their weapons, and descriptions of the foremen who directed the slaves and other workers. Deep in his mind the tharchion screamed, rebelling against what he was helpless to stop. But still the words continued to pour forth, and part of Willeth was happy. It was such a good thing to help a dear comrade.

“I need to know more, friend,” Maligor purred. “You know so much about the mines, and I’m so very proud of you for that. No one knows more about the mines than you do. Tell me how much gold is mined each day. Where are the strongest veins? Only you can tell me these things, my friend. Only you know so much.”

Willeth babbled on, reciting production figures, quality of the veins, the expected life of various tunnels, and the names of the foremen who shared some of that information. Maligor memorized everything the tharchion said, filing the statistics away for later use.

Then Willeth divulged something unexpected. The tharchion wanted to please his friend, and he hoped this tidbit would make Maligor particularly happy.

“Today,” Willeth began, his voice showing as much enthusiasm as his dying body would permit, “a foreman took a slave force … to the deepest part of a tunnel that we thought was mined out. The force … was to close the tunnel, but then the strangest … and most wonderful thing happened. A portion of the mines collapsed. A dozen slaves were … killed in the process, but we had used… the most expendable slaves for the task. And when the dust cleared … a cavern was revealed. It was an underground cave, and the walls glistened. See the gold powder on my clothes? It came from there. We found a new vein… bigger than any previously discovered. I was saving the information, friend. I was … going to tell the council about it when I returned from Tantras… with a request to buy equipment. I thought… the wizards … would let me buy new mining equipment then.”

Willeth sobbed and more blood rushed from his mouth before he continued. “I’m not… going to be able to tell them now, I know I’m dying. Could you … tell them, friend?”

“Of course,” Maligor lied. “Friends always help each other. But I have one other thing to ask you, my very best friend.” He motioned for the gnolls to unchain Willeth and ease him to the floor. Maligor reached into a deep pocket of his robe and drew out a rolled-up piece of beige parchment and a hunk of charcoal.

“Please, friend, draw a map of your mine. Only you could draw such a thing. Don’t forget to include that new cave. And please hurry.”

Willeth fell to the task. The Red Wizard moved the lantern closer to provide better light. The map was crude, as the tharchion’s hand shook terribly, and the parchment became spotted with blood. It took Willeth several minutes to complete the rough drawing. Then, before Maligor could take it away from him, Willeth added X’s to indicate traps and magical defenses.

“You’ve done very well, my friend,” Maligor said in soothing tones that relaxed Willeth. “This is a fine map. It will help me to find my way about in your wonderful mines.”

Willeth coughed, and Maligor noted a flowering splotch of blood on the tharchion’s chest. The man looked up at the wizard with a pained expression on his face.

“The pain … Help me … please.”

“Of course, friend,” Maligor said. He reached down and grabbed the map and the lantern, then stepped to the doorway. He turned to address the two gnolls.

“Are you hungry? Eat him.”

Moments later, Maligor paced in the hallway, waiting for his gnolls to finish. The Red Wizard was satisfied. If other zulkirs tried to contact Willeth while he was supposedly in Tantras or became suspicious of the Willeth Lionson who would address the council in two weeks, nothing would be learned. It was possible to contact the dead or locate bodies through special enchantments. Szass Tam knew such spells and likely would try to employ them if the new Willeth Lionson did not meet with his acceptance and the lich guessed the true Willeth was dead.

But it will soon be impossible for those necromantic enchantments to yield any valuable information, Maligor mused. The Red Wizard knew the necessary spells required a body—or at least a significant portion of one—and he had no intention of leaving behind enough remains to fuel such spells.

The council will have no choice but to accept the new Willeth, Maligor concluded. And the new Willeth will be cloaked with enough protective spells to pass any cursory inspections.

The crude stomping of the gnolls leaving the cell disturbed Maligor’s musings. The sated guards grinned at him.

The Red Wizard ordered the gnolls to gather Willeth’s bones, clothes, and boots into a canvas sack. These were seasoned guards and knew enough to comply with Maligor’s orders with alacrity. But they were not without curiosity.

“Gnoll troops,” one of them began, addressing the Red Wizard but showing enough respect not to meet Maligor’s gaze. “Gnoll troops practice but not fight? Not fight for mines?”

Maligor’s eyes narrowed. He had erred in keeping two of his best guards in this cell. Slaves were easy to replace, and he had plenty of gnolls, but gnolls weren’t easy to educate for special tasks such as guard work. Now he would have to order at least two more trained; these two had just become expendable.

“Gnolls not good enough?” the curious guard pressed, shaking the bag containing Willeth’s remains. “Gnolls good warriors. Gnolls could fight for mines. Gnolls brave fighters.”

“Of course they are,” Maligor said unctiously, “and you are the bravest among them. That is why I selected you as my personal tower guards.”

“Then why do gnolls train?” The gnoll was too inquisitive and obviously wouldn’t stop the questions until Maligor supplied some answers. This gnoll had been with the wizard several years and did not fear retribution for a few simple and direct questions.

“The gnoll forces will fight,” Maligor replied. “I just haven’t decided what. You see, the other Red Wizards will be watching the gnoll army. And they’ll keep their eyes on the gnolls wherever they march. That army is very important, and may well have to fight armies the other wizards send against it. But while that army is marching, another army, a very different army, will go to the mines. The Red Wizards won’t be expecting that and probably won’t notice. They must not notice. So you see, my dear friends, my very best friends, the gnoll army is very important indeed.”

The two gnolls looked up at Maligor, their eyes filled with a pink haze, identical to the haze around the wizard’s hands.

“Friend Maligor,” the curious gnoll stated. “Friend Maligor knows gnolls important.”

“Slaves tonight?” the other gnoll asked. “We get girl slaves tonight? We helped friend Maligor with the mining man.”

“Of course,” the Red Wizard lied, his voice soothing and melodic. “You will have your pick of the female slaves, my dear friends. But first wouldn’t you like to see my other army? You will be the only friends I have ever taken there.”

“Yes,” they barked, nearly in unison. Their yellow-tinged teeth showed as they grinned widely.

“Friend Maligor show us now?” one begged. “I want to see now.”

“Then I mustn’t keep my cherished friends waiting,” the wizard stated, placing one hand on the inquisitive gnoll’s shoulder. “Come with me. But leave your weapons and the sack of bones here. We mustn’t scare the army.”

The gnolls dropped their staves, daggers, and other items to the floor, then carefully set down the sack containing what was left of Willeth Lionson. They followed Maligor down the corridor, fighting for the position closest to their friend.

Maligor spoke to the gnolls along the way, continually reminding them of their good friendship and all the wonderful times they would share. The gnolls bantered back as they proceeded through the dark corridors, and down the stairs to the lowest level of Maligor’s complex, where he kept the growing force of darkenbeasts.

“My friends should walk in the chamber so they can see the army up close,” the Red Wizard encouraged. “Only my best friends get to pet the darkenbeasts.”

The two guards moved forward excitedly, like small boys in a room full of toys. While they marveled at the disgusting, rancid-smelling creatures, Maligor reached out with his mind, contacting the darkenbeasts and dropping his mental control of the gnolls.

Kill them! his mind cried. And in an instant, the chamber was filled with the flurry of shadowy, webbed wings. Unlike the tharchion, Willeth, the gnolls did not have time to scream.

The charmed orchard guard led Brenna, Wynter, and Galvin deeper into the citrus grove.

“Do you know where we are?” Brenna asked the centaur.

Wynter didn’t reply. His attention was fixed on something moving in a nearby tree.

Brenna followed his gaze, squinting through the darkness. Then she recoiled when a pair of yellow-orange eyes peered back. The sorceress clung to Wynter’s side and noticed that Galvin was watching the creature, too.

“What is it?” she whispered.

The charmed guide overheard her and strode obligingly toward the tree. “I think it’s an imp,” he offered, moving close enough to touch the branch the thing sat on. “See the wings?” The man waved his arm, tracing the outline of a wing, then turned to grin at Brenna. “It ain’t gonna hurt you. If it was gonna attack, it would have snuck up behind you. You wouldn’t have seen it just sitting here.”

The thing in the tree glared at the man, growled like a cornered dog, and flapped its wings, causing the branches to rustle and a few pieces of fruit to fall to the ground. Pushing off from its perch, the thing’s misshapen body hovered above the treetop.

The fiery-red-skinned creature had a manlike form, with short arms and legs. In the moonlight, its claws glistened. Its wings were small and batlike, and they beat furiously as the small creature began to gain altitude, its thin, barbed tail uncurling. Its face was a grotesque mockery, with grossly exaggerated features—a thin, pointed chin, a long bulbous nose, and pointed ears that stuck several inches above its bald, wrinkled head, from which sprouted grotesquely twisted horns. The creature growled again, then flew north.

“Yup,” the guide said, “it was an imp, all right. Too bad it’s so dark. A little more light and you could’ve gotten a better look at it.”

Galvin had never seen such a creature and wondered if it was related to the beast that had turned into a hedgehog when it died.

Brenna trembled and reached up to touch the centaur’s arm. “An imp is an evil little creature. I’ve heard that evil priests and wizards use them as familiars—extensions of themselves.”

“Yeah,” the guide said nonchalantly. “Lots of wizards in Thay use them. They help the owners keep tabs on their property. That one probably belonged to the wizard who owns this land.”

Their curiosity satisfied, the Harpers and Brenna urged their guide to adopt a faster pace, and they continued their trek through the orchard.

Several hours after the demise of his guards and several stories higher in his windowless study, Maligor met with a young apprentice, a stocky girl whose clean-shaven head and pudgy face looked like an overripe cantaloupe. She knelt near the wizard, who sat in his favorite high-backed red leather chair, and bowed. As she did, the symbol of Myrkul tattooed on the top of her head pointed up at the Red Wizard. Today she wore a perfume that smelled like roses; Maligor noted that she used it too liberally, but he decided that it was a refreshing change from the air in the chambers below. She was one of the wizard’s most adept pupils, possessing a ruthlessness and intelligence that surpassed even Asp’s. The wizard had grand plans for her—someday—when he grew tired of the spirit naga and when the girl grew older and gained enough magical abilities to be of significant use.

For now, he was content to use her for errands. Maligor trusted her; he had guaranteed her loyalty when she came to study under him a year ago. The wizard had abducted her parents and put them to work on his slave plantation. If she displeased him, they would die horribly. That threat, coupled with the girl’s voracious appetite for magical knowledge, kept her faithful and eager to please him.

“Master Maligor, I came in answer to your urgent summons.” The girl raised her head, and her large brown eyes met his. “What may I do to aid the Zulkir of Alteration?”

“It is a most important task I entrust to you, Jutta.” He ran his wrinkled hand across the top of her head. “There is a large canvas sack near an empty cell in the dungeon. Inside are the remains of a prisoner. Others may be looking for him. He was a merchant who dealt in slaves and spices,” Maligor lied convincingly. “His remains must be scattered.”

He slowly rose to tower above the girl and indicated she should stand. Jutta stood awkwardly on her short, fleshy legs and smiled expectantly, pleased to be assigned something important to do. The Red Wizard removed a ring from his right middle finger; it was a platinum band edged with brass and covered with tiny runes. Placing it on the smallest of her thick fingers, he grasped both of her hands and looked into her cherubic face.

“This ring will enable you to fly. All you need do is concentrate. The magic is simple. Take the canvas sack and scatter the bones over the cliff, down the length of the First Escarpment. Make sure each of the bones is miles apart… the remains of the clothing, too. Do you understand?”

Jutta was delighted; this sounded like a most important mission. “I understand, master, but even flying, it could take many hours to traverse the entire escarpment,” she said. She dropped her gaze to look at the magic ring. She was awed that the Red Wizard would entrust her with one of his own valuable items.

“I can do this thing,” she said, pushing her shoulders back to stand proudly. “No one will see me.”

“Very good, Jutta,” Maligor praised. “I have chosen my apprentice well. When you return, you will be rewarded. I will teach you new spells.”

Jutta rushed excitedly from the study, her right hand out in front of her as she went, her eyes on the ring.

Maligor returned to his chair, eased himself down on the soft cushion, and waited for his next visitor. He did not have to wait long.