Red Magic

Five

Two levels above his sorcerous army, Maligor paced in front of a cell door. The Red Wizard was tired, having just completed a series of spells that added a hundred more darkenbeasts to his forces. His exhaustion left him with little stomach for this place. The corridor stank of urine and sweat. The eight cells in this area were rarely cleaned, and they were almost always occupied. The wizard was constantly displeased with enough slaves, soldiers, and townspeople to keep them full. The horrible conditions kept the prisoners dispirited and easy to handle, and diseases usually kept the place from becoming too overcrowded.

Sometimes Maligor elected not to feed the occupants for a week or longer, leaving the corpses of those who starved to rot in the cells with the survivors. And when prisoners were tortured, it was prolonged and in full presence of the others. Maligor enjoyed watching the contorted faces of the captives as one of their kind was whipped and gutted in their full view. But the prisoner beyond this cell door was different. He had been brought here only a few hours ago, not to be punished, but to reveal information Maligor considered crucial to his plans.

Maligor continued to pace in front of the cell until he heard through the door the clinking of chains and the scratching noise a key makes as it turns in a lock. Confident the two gnoll guards had secured the “guest,” he raised his robe to his ankles and extended one slippered foot to prod the cell door open. He entered cautiously to make sure his expensive clothes didn’t brush against the filth on the door, then stepped down carefully into the cell chamber. When his eyes adjusted to the gloom within—the room was lit with a small, oil-burning lantern—he saw his guest chained to the far wall.

The man was squat, but he had a broad, sturdy frame and a barrel-like chest. Maligor saw the cuts and bruises on the man’s body and imagined he must have put up a substantial struggle to avoid being captured. His head hung limply forward against his chest; the gnolls had probably pummeled him into unconsciousness, the wizard mused. At least the guest didn’t seem to be seriously injured.

The man was bald, and his head sported a design—a pale orange, four-taloned hand, indicating that he was a worshiper of Malar, the Beastlord, one of the commonly worshiped deities in Thay. Maligor himself favored Myrkul, whom the Red Wizard considered a far superior power and whom he honored with the permanent tattoo of Myrkul’s symbol on the center of his forehead.

Maligor doubted his visitor’s loyalty to Malar, since the man’s symbol was painted rather than permanent. It had begun to fade from the rivulets of sweat that ran down his brow. The other symbols on the man’s head were already obscured. The Red Wizard scowled in frustration; much could be learned about a Thayvian’s beliefs and pontics from studying the symbols on his head. The man’s clothes were well made and in good repair, but they were dirty, covered with dust and powdered rock. In the soft glow of the lantern light, the powder gleamed, making the Red Wizard’s eyes widen and twinkle in response.

“Rouse him,” the Red Wizard ordered.

The gnolls were quick to comply, shaking the man and splashing water on his face from the leather flask that hung at the man’s side. The guards were among the largest gnolls Maligor had at his disposal, each a little more than eight feet tall. Looking like the offspring of a canine and a human, the gnolls’ dark fur blended in with the cell’s shadowy decor. Their small, shiny eyes glared out from above their hyena-shaped muzzles, and they lolled out their tongues, waiting for their master’s next command.

Gradually the man’s eyes came open, and he raised his head to stare at the gnolls’ evil visages. Tilting his head to avoid their foul breath, he glared straight into the wizard’s face.

“Zulkir Maligor!” the man gasped. “I am not under your personal command! I have done nothing to offend you. By what right did you bring me here? The Council of Zulkirs will be furious when they learn what you have done!”

Maligor’s lips produced a thin, evil grin that quickly silenced the frightened man.

“The council isn’t going to know,” the Red Wizard replied menacingly. “I’m no fool. This dungeon is fully protected from the prying eyes of other wizards.” He leveled his gaze on the man, who had begun to sweat even more profusely.

“Willeth Lionson,” Maligor stated, finally addressing the man by his name. “Tharchion Willeth Lionson.” The Red Wizard didn’t know the man personally, but he knew much about him. Being on the Council of Zulkirs, Maligor had helped select Willeth to oversee Thay’s gold mines. The Tharchion was accountable to the council and had allegiances to no individual Red Wizard.

“Tharchions do not just disappear!” Willeth sputtered. “The other wizards on the council will miss me. You can’t get away with this, Maligor! Release me at once!”

“No one is going to miss you,” Maligor countered. “You were expected to be away from the mines, remember, Willeth? You told the council you were leaving today for Tantras to look at some new mining equipment. Your dedication to improving the productivity of the mines has left me the opening I have been waiting for. And I have been waiting for a very long time.”

“No! I have friends, guards. They will wonder where I am.”

“It’s unfortunate—for you—that you were lax today, leaving the mine without being accompanied by extra guards. The few guards you took were easily overcome by my gnolls.”

Willeth strained against his chains, but they were anchored solidly to the wall. “I have other guards!” he screeched. “The guards who were to take me to Tantras.”

“The guards who were to accompany you to Tantras have been killed,” Maligor said calmly. “You have many guards, Willeth. The few I ordered dispatched will not be missed. Nor will you, Willeth.”

The tharchion pulled at the chains again to show his defiance, and the gnoll guards snarled. “You can’t win, Maligor! If you return me to the mines, you know I’ll tell the council about this. And if you keep me from returning, they’ll find out. I’m in charge of the mines! You may be one of the most powerful Red Wizards, but the rest of the council is strong enough to challenge you. Szass Tam—”

“The Zulkir Szass Tam will never know,” Maligor interrupted. “Willeth Lionson will return from Tantras in less than two weeks, reporting to the council that the equipment should not be purchased, since it is inferior. Then Willeth Lionson will go about his business directing operations at the mine. Unfortunately, that Willeth Lionson won’t be you. You’ll have to stay here.”

Maligor flicked his wrist and a gnoll guard slammed his fist into Willeth’s stomach. The tharchion let out a rush of air and doubled over as much as the chains allowed.

“I advise you to cooperate,” Maligor instructed. “Otherwise, your dying could take a seriously long while and be excruciatingly painful.”

The tharchion raised his head and glared at the zulkir. “The foul ones take you to the scum-filled belly of the underworld!” he cursed. “You’ll gain nothing from me. Nothing!”

“Dear Willeth, I do admire your resolve. The council chose well when they selected you. But I am low on patience today.” He nodded to the gnoll guards, and in unison their large, hairy fists smashed into Willeth’s chest. They repeated their blows until Maligor heard the soft crunch of ribs. Then the wizard motioned for the gnolls to stop.

“I want to know about the gold mines, Willeth. How many slaves work there? How strong is the guard force? How many foremen? Where and what are the magical defenses?”

The Red Wizard knew all the information he wanted was spread out among the members of the Council of Zulkirs. That was so no one wizard would know too much and become tempted to take over the mines. But Willeth was the one single person who harbored most of that information, and Maligor intended to extract it from him.

“Talk to me!” Maligor persisted.

Willeth coughed, and saliva and blood trickled from his mouth. “I don’t know all of the magical defenses. I intentionally kept myself ignorant of such things to prevent something like this from happening. And even if I told you what I know, the Council of Zulkirs would stop you. They’d see you gathering your gnolls to march on the mine. They’d join forces if they had to—just to stop you!” He coughed again and Maligor beamed.

“You are indeed a simpleton, Willeth. Yes, I am gathering my gnolls. I have been for weeks—three garrisons, one in the city and two nearby. But they won’t be attacking the mines.” Maligor paced in front of the man.

“My sweet associate Asp—you wouldn’t know her, but she will soon know your mines intimately—is in charge of drilling my gnolls. That is no doubt drawing the attention of nearby wizards, including the council. The gnolls are practicing long and hard, thinking they will be marching against another Red Wizard. Asp thinks so, too.” Maligor laughed, a throaty chuckle that echoed off the cell walls.

“Maybe I actually will have to select a Red Wizard somewhere to attack, or perhaps some stuffy baron who offended me years ago. After all, I shouldn’t waste my gnolls’ training. Nor should I disappoint the Red Wizards who will be looking for me to do something. Do you have any suggestions? Anyone in Thay you particularly dislike?”

“You—you wretched, evil dog!” Willeth was trying to goad Maligor. The tharchion, who was in agony, considered himself a dead man now, and he hoped the wizard would get angry enough to kill him before gaining any information about the mines. “You are … not fit to .. . walk on Thayvian soil! You are—”

“Tsk, tsk, Willeth,” Maligor said. His tone was condescending, like a teacher lecturing a misbehaving child. “I’m no more evil than the rest of the wizards … just a little smarter, perhaps. And insulting me won’t help your condition.”

Willeth’s chest heaved. It was getting difficult for the tharchion to breathe. He wondered if his shattered ribs were poking into his insides. He decided to get the wizard to keep talking, hoping he would be dead by the time Maligor finished his crazed discourse. “If you … take your gnolls … to attack someone else … how will you … get the mines?”

“I have power and forces you could only dream of,” the Red Wizard said evenly. “My gnolls are numerous, one of the grandest armies in Thay. It is probably only because of their great numbers that Szass Tam or another Red Wizard hasn’t already attacked me. But my gnolls are nothing. My true army is much stronger, and it is that army that will seize the mines for me.”

“And if you … do take the mines?” Willeth posed, his breathing becoming shallower still.

”When I take them,” Maligor corrected.

“When you … take the mines … the other Red Wizards will band together .. .and seize them back from you. No one Red Wizard … has the power to hold the mines.”

“Willeth, you do count me for a fool. My plan is so intricate and sublime that no one will even know I control the mines.” Maligor looked at the puzzled expression on the tharchion’s face. “The precious flow of gold to the country won’t stop, at least not for a few years. You still don’t understand, do you? And I can see that I don’t have the time to explain it to you. My gnolls struck you too severely. I fear you haven’t long to live.”

The Red Wizard stopped his pacing and moved closer to his captive, just far enough away so the man’s chained arms couldn’t reach him. “So you’ll have to talk now—quickly. Tell me about the mine’s defenses.”

“Go to … the underworld!” Willeth spat.

The gnolls moved to strike the tharchion, but Maligor held them back with a glance. The Red Wizard mumbled something Willeth could not understand. It was magic, the tharchion knew, as Maligor’s hands began to glow, radiating a soft, pink haze that stretched in rays from his fingers to Willeth’s eyes.

“You will beat me to the underworld, tharchion,” Maligor said, his voice a singsong chant that mesmerized Willeth. “But before you go, you will be my friend. My closest, dearest friend. Friends share secrets, Willeth. I am your very best friend, and you will share all of your secrets with me. Tell me about the mine, friend Willeth. I want to visit the mine. And since I’m your friend, you wouldn’t want me to get hurt there, would you? Tell me about the defenses—where the magical traps and spells are placed. I mustn’t get hurt, friend Willeth.”

The tharchion’s eyes glazed over, and the pupils became small and fixed. “My friend,” he croaked. “Can’t let… my friend be hurt… when he comes to visit me in the mines. Be careful, friend, the mines … are very dangerous if you do not know where to walk.”

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.

A shushing sound filtered in from the doorway, becoming louder as Asp slithered closer. She stopped just beyond the door, where the wizard could see her. The spirit naga made no effort to move silently today, her tail undulating back and forth, keeping the guards a respectful distance away. She sniffed the air, and her lidless, serpentine eyes narrowed to imperceptible slits. Asp pointed her chin up, opened her eyes, and glared at Maligor.

“Roses,” she hissed. “I smell the perfume of roses.”

When the Red Wizard provided no explanation, she glided to his chair. Rocking back on her snake’s lower half so her face was lower than the wizard’s, she grimaced.

“Maligor, what do you need of a lowly, fat apprentice? I am here to carry out your plans,” she hissed.

“Jealousy does not become you, beautiful Asp,” he retorted silkily. “Especially in one who has no need to be jealous. Apprentices were made for insignificant tasks … things that are too far beneath you. Apprentices do not share in my greatest plans, nor will they share in the fruits of the conquests.”

Slightly appeased, Asp smiled and allowed her face to take on a radiant sheen. “My apologies, zulkir. I will not be jealous again. Now, on to things of greater significance. I have come to report on the gnolls’ training.”

Maligor leaned back, kicked off his slippers, and extended his feet so Asp could massage them. “I have waited anxiously all day to hear your report,” he fabricated.

“I visited each garrison today, and I took them through a variety of fighting maneuvers. Some have difficulty mastering defensive tactics, but the sergeants have been working with them hour after hour.”

“Good,” Maligor said. “How long will it take to join the three garrisons?”

She gently massaged his rough heels as she continued. “That depends on where they are to be joined. If they are united outside this tower, about a day. But this location poses some problems. There are several Red Wizards in the city, and the presence of so many soldiers will concern the wizards and frighten the officials and people of Amruthar. I suspect the wizards will do something about it.

“I recommend instead that we join them south of the tower, well outside the city boundaries. Uniting the garrisons there could take two days, three if we move them at night and keep them a good distance from the tower. That would give us the best chance for success. No doubt the local wizards would know what is happening, but they are not likely to interfere, thinking your target is south of the city and out of their domain.” She finished the massage, kissed his feet, and tenderly guided his toes into the slippers.

“Your military mind is becoming sharper, Asp. That is what we will do, then—march them south of this tower and Amruthar. Start them moving tonight. Then, three days from now, the garrisons will be joined, and we can put our plans into motion.”

The spirit naga sensuously licked her lips. “It will be glorious, My Lord Maligor.”

“Glorious,” he echoed, thinking instead of the Thayvian gold mines. In three or four days, his darkenbeasts would be released—those in his tower and those he was storing elsewhere. “Soon it will begin,” he said aloud. “The other wizards will never be able to stop me, beloved Asp. In just a few days.”

Maligor looked into his unhuman associate’s exquisite face. For a brief moment, he imagined that her eyes sparkled like gold.