The Best of the Realms, Book I

CHAPTER 2

Tresk Mulander paced the floor of his cell, histrailing scarlet robes whispering behind him. It had not been easy, persuadingthe mistress to provide him with the bright silk garments, but he was a RedWizard and so he would remain, however far he might be from his native Thay.

Nearly two years had passed since Mulander had firstencountered Xandra Shobalar and begun his strange apprenticeship. Though he hadnot once left the large chamber carved from solid rock, vented only by tinyopenings in the ceiling well above his reach, he had not been badly treated.He had food and wine in plenty, whatever comforts he required, and, mostimportantly, an intense and thorough education in the magic of the Underdark.It was an opportunity that many of his peers would have seized without a qualm,and in truth, Mulander did not entirely regret his fate.

The Red Wizard was a necromancer, a powerful member ofthe Researcher faction-that group of wizards who sought ever stronger and morefearsome magic. Mulander was somewhat of an oddity among his peers, for he wasone of a very few high-ranking wizards whose blood was not solely that of theruling Mulan race.

His father's father had been Rashemi, and his inheritancefrom his grandsire was a thick, muscled body and a luxuriant crop of facialhair. From his wizard mother had come his talent and ambition, as well as theheight and the sallow complexion that were considered marks of nobility inThay.

Mulander's cold, gemlike green eyes and narrow scimitarnose lent him a terrifying aspect, and though he conformed to custom and affectedbaldness, he was rather vain of the thick, long gray beard that set him apartfrom the nearly hairless Mulan. In all, he was an imposing man, who carried hissixty winters with ease upon his broad, proud shoulders. He was strong of body,mind, and magic. The passing years had only served to thin his graying hair,which he regretted not at all, for it made the daily task of shaving his pateless onerous.

Mistress Shobalar had indulged him in that as well,providing him with incredibly keen-edged shaving gear and a halfling servant todo the honors. Indeed, the drow female seemed fascinated by the tattoos thatcovered Mulander's head. As well she should have been: each mark was a magicalrune that, when activated with the appropriate spell, could transform bits ofdead matter into fearsome magical servants. Provide him with a corpse, and hewould produce an army. Or could, were he able to access his necromanticmagic.

Mulander grimaced and slipped a finger under the goldcollar that encircled his neck-and imprisoned his Art.

"In time, you will be permitted to removethat," said a cool voice behind him.

The Red Wizard jolted, then turned to face XandraShobalar. Even after two years, her sudden arrivals unnerved him, as they wereno doubt intended to do.

But that day the implied promise in the drow's wordsbanished his usual resentment.

"When?"

"In time," Xandra repeated. She strolledover to a deep chair and, in a leisurely fashion, seated herself. Two years wasnot a long time in the life of a drow, but she was obviously well aware of thehuman's impatience, and she intended to enjoy it.

* * * * *

Enjoyable, too, was the murderous rage, barely contained,in the Red Wizard's eyes.

Xandra entertained herself with fantasies of seeingthat wrath unleashed upon her Baenre fosterling. At last, the long-anticipatedday was nearly at hand.

"You have learned well," Xandra began."Soon you will have a chance to test your newfound skills. Succeed, andthe reward will be great."

The drow plucked a tiny golden key from her bodice andheld it high. She cocked her head to one side and sent the Red Wizard a cold,taunting smile. Mulander's eyes widened with realization, then gleamed with anemotion that went far beyond greed. His intense, hungry gaze followed the keyas Xandra slowly lowered it and tucked it back into its intimate hiding place.

"I see that you understand what this is. Wouldyou like to know what you must do to earn it?" she asked.

A shudder of revulsion shimmered down the Red Wizard'sspine. Xandra's smile widened and grew mocking.

"Not this time, dear Mulander," she purred."I have another sort of adventure in mind for you."

She quickly described the rite of the Blooding, theritual hunt that each young dark elf was required to undergo before beingaccounted a true drow. Mulander listened with growing dismay.

"And I am to be this prey?"

Anger flashed in Xandra's eyes like crimson fire.

"Do not be a fool," she snarled. "Youmust prevail! Would I have gone to such trouble and expense otherwise?"

"A spell battle …" he muttered, beginningto understand. "You have been preparing me for a spell battle. And thespells you have taught me?"

"They represent all the offensive spells youryoung opponent knows, as well as the appropriate counter-spells." Xandraleaned forward, and her face was deadly serious. "You will not see meagain. You will have a new tutor for perhaps thirty cycles of Narbondel. Abattle wizard. He will work with you daily and instruct you in the tactics ofdrow warfare. Learn all he has to teach during the course of thissession."

"For he will not live to give anotherlesson," Mulander reasoned.

Xandra smiled and said, "How astute. For a human,you possess a most promising streak of duplicity! But you are among drow, andyou have much to learn about subtlety and treachery."

The wizard bristled.

"We in Thay are no strangers to treachery,"he said. "No wizard could survive to my age, much less reach my position,without such skills."

"Really?" the drow asked, her voiceddripping with sarcasm. "If that is the case, how did you come to behere?"

Mulander responded only with a sullen glare, but themistress of magic did not seem to require an answer.

"You possess a great deal of very interestingmagic," she observed. "More than I would have guessed a human capableof wielding, and judging from your pride, more than most of your peers haveachieved. How, then, could you have been overcome and sold into slavery, but bytreachery?"

Not waiting for a response, Xandra rose from herchair.

"These are the terms I offer you," she said,her manner suddenly all business. "At the proper time, you will be takeninto the wild tunnels surrounding this city-as part of your preparations, youwill be given a map of the area to commit to memory. There you will confront afledgling wizard, a drow female with golden eyes. She will carry the key thatwill release you from that collar. You must defeat her in spell battle-dowhatever you must to ensure that she does not survive.

"You may then take the key from her body, and gowheresoever you will. The girl will be alone, and you will not be pursued. Itmay be that you can find your way to the World Above-if indeed there is still aplace for you there. If not, with the spells I have taught you, as well as thereturn of your own death magic, you should be able to live and thrive in theUnderdark."

* * * * *

Mulander listened stoically, carefully masking thesudden bright surge of hope the drove's words awoke in his heart. For all heknew, it could all be an elaborate trap, and he refused to display his elationfor the wretched female's amusement.

Or did she perhaps expect him to show fear?

If that was the case, she would also be disappointed.He knew none. The Red Wizard did not for one moment doubt the outcome of thecontest, for he knew the full measure of his powers, even if Xandra Shobalardid not.

He was more than capable of defeating an elf girl inspell battle-he would kill the little wench and set himself up in some hiddencavern of the underground world, a place surrounded by warding magic andmisdirection spells that would keep even the powerful dark elves from his door.

This he would do, for the Shobalar wizard was rightabout one thing-there was no welcome awaiting Mulander in Thay, and no welcomefor Red Wizards in any land other than Thay. Another of Xandra's thrusts hadfound its mark, as well: he had indeed been undone through treachery. Mulanderhad been betrayed by his young apprentice, as he himself had betrayed his ownmaster. It occurred to him, suddenly, to wonder what treachery Xandra's youngprodigy might have in store for her mistress.

"You are smiling," the drow observed."My terms are to your liking?"

"Very much so," Mulander said, thinking itprudent to keep his fantasies to himself.

"Then let me add to your enjoyment," Xandrasaid softly.

She advanced upon the man and reached up to place oneslim black hand against his jaw. His instinctive flinch, and his effort todisguise the response, seemed to amuse her. She swayed closer, her slim bodyjust barely brushing against his robes. Her crimson eyes burned up into his,and Mulander felt a tendril of compelling magic creep into his mind.

"Tell me truly, Mulander," she said-and herwords were mocking, for they both knew that the spell she cast upon him wouldallow him to speak nothing but truth, "do you hate me so very much?"

Mulander held her gaze.

"With all my soul," he vowed, with morepassion than he had ever before displayed-more than he knew he possessed.

"Good," Xandra breathed. She raised botharms high and clasped her hands behind his neck; then she floated upward untilher eyes were on a level with the much taller man. "Then remember my faceas you hunt the girl, and remember this."

The drow pressed her lips to Mulander's in a macabreparody of a kiss. Her passion was like his: it was all hatred and pride.

Her kiss, like many that he himself had forced uponthe youths and maidens apprenticed to him, was a claim of total ownership, agesture of cruelty and utter contempt that was more painful to the proud manthan a dagger's thrust. He winced when the drow's teeth sank deep into hislower lip.

Xandra abruptly released him and floated away, suspendedin the air like a dark wraith and smiling coldly as she wiped a drop of hisblood from her mouth.

"Remember," she admonished him, and shevanished as suddenly as she had come.

Left alone in his cell, Tresk Mulander nodded grimly.He would long remember Xandra Shobalar, and for as long as he lived he wouldpray to every dark god whose name he knew that her death would be slow andpainful and ignominious.

In the meanwhile, he would vent some of his seethinghatred upon the other drow wench who presumed to look upon him-him, a RedWizard and a master of necromancy! — as prey.

"Let the hunt begin," Mulander said, and hisbloodied lips curved in a grim smile as he savored the secret he had hoardedfrom Xandra Shobalar-a secret he would soon unleash upon her young student.