Red Magic h-3

by Jean Rabe

  Red Magic

  ( Harpers - 3 )

  Jean Rabe

  Jean Rabe

  Red Magic

  One

  The crimson-draped figure paced in the damp, circular chamber, his well-rehearsed path carrying him through the darkness shrouding the smooth stone wall and to an ancient bronze incense burner. He bent over the antique from Moonshae to permit the acrid vapors to spiral upward from the basin's scented coals into the shadowed recesses of his hood. He drew the smoky gray tendrils deep into his lungs while the haze from the burner and the room's lone, fat-soaked torch danced around his flowing robes.

  Maligor's garb was similar to that worn by all of the Red Wizards of Thay-dark red, the color of blood oozing from a deep, fresh wound. The robe's many folds concealed his form; the sleeves hung several inches below the tips of his thin, pale fingers, and the hood obscured his gaunt, wrinkled face. The embroidered hem, which draped on the polished mosaic floor, swirled wildly about his slippered feet as he concluded his meditation and strode to the narrow window to gaze out over Amruthar.

  The dying rays of the sun stained the city's cobblestone streets a glowing vermilion. Maligor's impressive tower rose just beyond the western edge of Amruthar, its shadow pointing like a lance to the closing gate. The location offered the Red Wizard a superior view of the major business district and the two-story inn where most of his informants operated.

  Amruthar conferred an impression of quiet this early evening; only a few citizens roamed the streets in the section visible to Maligor. However, appearances in Thay, he knew, were nearly always deceptive. The alleys and shadowed walkways were alive with cutpurses and burglars just starting their evil agendas. Schemers bloomed and profited when the sky grew dark, and peddlers who proffered commodities too illicit to pass off during the day even in Faerun's most wicked country.

  Most of the commonfolk were huddled inside their homes, protecting their mundane existences from the city's deviate nature. Maligor could smell the coal smoke rising sluggishly from the stone chimneys as they prepared their meager dinners. For a moment, the Red Wizard wondered what lavish feast his slaves would be baking for him-a fast that would have to be discarded, as he was too busy this evening for pleasantries.

  Maligor glanced past the spacious open-air market. The crude wooden stalls were being ritualistically boarded up for the evening to prevent vagrants from sleeping inside, the unsold goods packed onto wagons to be trekked home because the merchants feared to leave them here, wisely trusting no one. The morning would bring a different view, a vibrant, welcoming, bustling scene to delight the senses. The market would be crowded with retailers hawking all manner of exotic fruits, fresh vegetables, homespun and imported cloth, and shiny trinkets to catch the eyes of women with gold jingling in their bulging purses.

  Likely there would be a slave dealer or two, despite the merchant guild's mandate that slaves must be sold in the stockyards so that the sellers would have to pay taxes on their illicit goods. Some of the best deals could be made purchasing flesh in the open-air market, though, because the sellers needed to move the stock quickly before the guild tried to close them down and claim its due. Maligor made a mental note to send one of his buyers there tomorrow. A Red Wizard's prestige was often measured by the size of his slave stable. And in this country, where two-thirds of the population were slaves, Maligor always strove to maintain far more than his share.

  Just beyond the emptying stalls sat the fashionable alcazar of a young Red Wizard, a man who flagrantly displayed his wealth, which he had incomparably more of than common sense or magical might. The opulent abode appeared out of place in the old section of the Free City of Amruthar. Maligor smiled. Neighboring countries claimed this was the only independent city in Thay. However, Maligor and the other Red Wizards-in fact all those who lived in Thay-knew better. While the city fell under no one Red Wizard's jurisdiction and claimed decades ago to have seceded from Thay, many of the most powerful Red Wizards lived nearby and secretly directed the government by manipulating the strings of the puppet rulers. Some wizards, Maligor among them, were more obvious in their control, openly bribing and magically charming people in key positions and making Amruthar more closely influenced by the Red Wizards than perhaps any other city in Thay.

  Maligor mused that the young Red Wizard ensconced in his perfect home never could be a power in the city. The newcomer likely lived here because of the closeness of the great teachers of the arcane, such as Maligor. But the young man would never climb above the rank of a simple fledgling. Maligor would see to that.

  Maligor, on the other hand, had great bureaucratic and supernatural strength. He was a zulkir, the Zulkir of Alteration, one of a handful of Red Wizards who guided Thay's destiny through an all-powerful political council that directed the rulers of each city, created laws, both useful and obscure; detailed their enforcement; and described in massive volumes the punishments for lawbreakers. The zulkirs, however, only called upon Thay's courts to discipline people when it was convenient, and in fact often ordered those in their employ to commit every illegality that could be conceived. The zulkirs, who did not trust each other and did not cooperate beyond the council, could engage in whatever nefarious and heinous acts they desired. They were above the law. The council also dictated Thay's foreign policy, which at this point consisted of keeping every neighboring country unnerved and guessing.

  Each zulkir personally controlled a magical discipline and oversaw all those who studied it. Maligor's specialty was transmuting objects, living and otherwise. If his current plan proved successful, he would control much more than that.

  Maligor resumed watching the young sorcerer's mansion, curious about the young wizard. He closed his eyes and concentrated, visualizing in his mind being inside the elegant building, peering through the windows, glancing down corridors, searching. In a hazy vision, he witnessed servants bearing the young man steaming platters of rare delicacies. Splendid, Maligor thought. The fool will be too full and lazy to pay me any heed this evening, and he is too weak to put up the proper wards to keep prying eyes away from his home.

  It was the nature of Red Wizards to second-guess their peers and ceaselessly protect their backs. The wizards frequently plotted against each other for pleasure, for personal gain, for retribution, or simply to hone their skills. This puerile behavior prevented most wizards from gaining sufficient power to rise above their brethren, and it also forestalled them from working together to expand Thay's boundaries.

  Despite the magical inactivity at the young wizard's alcazar, Maligor realized that other Red Wizards in the city would be busy this night, no doubt brewing their own wicked plans to inflict pain and suffering on others for their own financial or personal reward. He fancied that none of their plots would be as devious or promising as his present scheme, for he held little respect for his colleagues. A smile gently tugged at the corner of Maligor's pale, cracked lips. None in Amruthar, none in Thay-indeed even no one else in his own tower-knew what he was up to.

  He retreated from the window to the incense burner's bitter embrace. The smoke caressed his face and made his throat feel dry and his mouth taste sour. Still, Maligor enjoyed the druglike sensation, savoring it for long moments while his eyes watered from the thick vapors. Then abruptly he stiffened, detecting another familiar scent, one less pleasing-one that smelled like rotting flesh.

  Stepping away from the burner, the wizard's gray, rheumy eyes peered into the shadows, probing intently until he discovered the source of the stench, then narrowing to thin slits to evidence his displeasure.

  "What do you want, Asp?" Maligor's voice had a noticeable edge to it. "What catastrophe is unfolding? Surely something has gone amiss. Otherwise, you would not dare interrupt my meditation."
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br />   The wizard's tones were soft and raspy, though not by choice. Appearing elderly by human standards, perhaps sixty or seventy, Maligor was in fact more than two hundred years old. The viscous magical elixirs he concocted in his secret chambers in this tower and in his other numerous residences throughout Thay helped his frail form to stave off many of the effects of age. His voice, however, hadn't held up as well against the passage of time.

  "My Lord Maligor, I'm sorry to intrude, but this truly is important." The feminine voice was sultry, caressing the stale air in the chamber like a summer breeze.

  "Yes?" Maligor entreated, still peering into the darkness.

  Asp's unblemished face rimmed with close-clipped sable hair edged out from the shadows. Her startling blue eyes, high cheekbones, and dainty lips the shade of ripe red yarberries, a poisonous fruit that grew abundantly in Thay, contrasted with the room's dismal atmosphere. Her long, slender neck, decorated with a delicate strand of black pearls, and her bare, white shoulders emerged from the inky blackness near the wall, but she came no closer.

  "There is a spy in our midst," she whispered, studying Maligor's face for a reaction. "He's a slow-witted creature, but he could cause problems."

  Maligor moved toward the woman, regarding her critically. "Go on," he rasped.

  "He's a gnoll, one of the guards," she continued, her voice rising slightly in volume. "He hasn't been seen for several days now. He was sometimes stationed outside this very room. That means he could have heard us plotting, my lord. He could have knowledge of our schemes. He could be selling the information to another Red Wizard." She ran her finely manicured fingers through her short hair, pausing to compose herself before continuing.

  "Perhaps he didn't think he'd be missed, Maligor. After all, you've been enlisting more and more gnolls into your service. Perhaps he doesn't really know much, but then again, maybe he does. We have to be sure. We have to do something. Our plans may not remain secret much longer if his tongue is wagging."

  Maligor scowled, disheartened that Asp would bother him with such a trivial matter. He didn't care what a mere gnoll might reveal. What the venerable Red Wizard discussed with Asp, the schemes she feared could be unraveling, were only a mask for his overall goal. Still, he found solace in the fact that Asp apparently remained oblivious to his true plan.

  "I have no fear of a missing gnoll," Maligor answered after what seemed an interminable pause. "But to please you, beautiful Asp, I will find him and deal with him. I will even let you help. Find something of his and bring it to me. I'll wait for you outside the tower. Quickly now."

  "Yes, your omnipotence." Asp snatched her head back into the shadows and soundlessly retreated.

  Maligor sniffed the air to make certain she was gone, then vacated the chamber and ascended an iron spiral staircase that took him two levels higher, nearly to the top of the ancient tower. Muffled cries and whimpers filtered out from behind a massive pine door near the top of the stairs. The Red Wizard waved his arm, and the door slowly unlocked itself and opened to reveal a room blanketed in darkness. Maligor padded forward, unmindful of the gloom. He frequented this room so often he knew all its features by memory. Strolling toward a corner where spiderwebs were as thick as curtains, he chanted a dozen words. Suddenly flame sprang to life in a crystal oil lamp that hung from the ceiling. Smoke rose from the bowl and singed the nearest webs to illuminate the surface of a large, low table that was nearly as old as the wizard.

  The worn top was covered with racks of vials filled with foul mixtures, a half-dozen ragged leather gloves, and several cages. The largest cage was brimming with rabbits of various sizes, colors, and breeds. Two had no fur. The pathetic, hairless pair stared at Maligor through frightened eyes. The Red Wizard had used them a few days ago to test a potion intended to remove wrinkles; it had proved a mild success. While the wrinkles vanished from the rabbits' skin, the concoction also caused them to lose their fur. He smiled evilly at them, deciding to try further experiments on the two later.

  Another cage was crammed with squirrels and rats that cowered beyond their dead brethren, hoping to escape the wizard's notice. A third held moles and hedgehogs, most of these freshly caught by Maligor's gnoll trappers. The other cages were smaller and were filled with snakes, lizards, and other reptiles the wizard could not name. A crate under the table contained live chickens and ducklings purchased at Amruthar's open-air market.

  Nearly a third of the mistreated animals were dead, and most of the others were dying, either from lack of food or from being force-fed the wizard's putrid mixtures. Maligor favored using animals for his bizarre research; they weren't as costly as humans, and their yowls and whimpers were easier on his ears than the screams of his slaves. Furthermore, he had learned years ago that animals took up less space in a laboratory and weren't expensive to feed, especially since he neglected to feed them regularly.

  Maligor savored the animals' terror for long moments before pulling a scarred leather glove over his bony right hand. Opening a cage and thrusting his hand inside, he retrieved a startled hedgehog.

  The wizard ignored the panicked clawing and biting of the squat creature and tightly squeezed it until he heard it squeal. Convinced it was lively enough, he carried it down the tower's staircase to the ground floor, passing bowing slaves, straight-backed guards, and magical barriers that kept intruders from disturbing his treasured privacy. Maligor gestured at the massive iron-reinforced door that served as the main entrance to his tower, and it obediently swung open on well-oiled hinges. He squeezed the hedgehog again for good measure then stepped outside into the warm night air.

  Overhead, the stars shone brightly in a clear night sky. Maligor knew there would be a myriad of clouds by dawn, as many of the Red Wizards were skilled with weather control magic, and the dry ground presented a tempting challenge.

  Someone would make it rain soon.

  Maligor chose not to concern himself with such meaningless things, choosing instead to spend his time on spells that would improve his personal position rather than increase the yield of the crops. Dropping the trembling hedgehog on the ground, he roughly pinned it beneath his foot. The starlight, coupled with the glow spilling out from the tower windows, provided just enough light to work under and set the tone for the wizard's hellish project.

  The door opened and closed behind Maligor. Turning and glaring into the darkness next to the tower's stone wall, he saw Asp. Her offensive odor was vastly diminished in the outdoors.

  She grinned slyly at the wizard. "This spell is my favorite," she uttered thickly, staring hungrily at the trapped animal. "Perhaps one day you will teach it to me."

  "Perhaps," he replied, turning his attention back to the hedgehog. The creature's eyes were wide with horror, a fact that pleased the wizard.

  "Did you find something belonging to the gnoll?" It was more a demand than a question and sent Asp rustling through a large sack at her side. Maligor wanted to get the spell over with quickly, since he had planned to devote the evening to putting the final touches on his latest scheme.

  "Yes," she answered dutifully. "Will this do?" Asp's slender, hairless arm emerged from the darkness, holding out a tattered cloak she had retrieved from the missing gnoll's barracks.

  Maligor scowled at her, and she snatched the garment back into the shadows, where she savagely ripped it. A moment later, her soft hand passed the wizard a long, thin strip of dirty cloth. It fluttered in the breeze, flapping against the Red Wizard's robes.

  Maligor swiftly grabbed the cloth, making certain the expensive fabric of his robe wasn't soiled by it. Satisfied, he drew the red hood back from his face so he could work more easily.

  Like the majority of Red Wizards and the bulk of Thay's residents, Maligor's head was completely bald and adorned with tattoos. Wizards and wealthy, important Thayvians- and those who pretended they were-decorated their pates with elaborate designs. Only slaves had long hair. Maligor's tattoos included a bright red flame lapping on a purple field, a common
symbol of the Red Wizards, and a flawless snow-white skull on an ebony triangle, a symbol of Myrkul, the god of death, decay, and corruption. Many in the civilized centers of Faerun considered Myrkul himself dead, slain in the godswar that had ripped across the world years ago. However, the Red Wizard and other loyal followers believed the dark god still lived. While Maligor cared little about deities, he supported what Myrkul stood for and believed he honored the god through various acts involving death and corruption, such as the magic he was about to cast.

  The wizard tied the stained strip of cloth about the hedgehog's thick neck and began the incantation. He muttered in a monotone in an ancient, arcane language. Maligor knew that throughout the city other Red Wizards were casting spells, too. Thay reeked of magic. Spells kept troublesome slaves loyal, treasures protected, homes guarded, and enemies at bay. And among a multitude of other things, they allowed wizards to peer through walls, around corners, across the city or even farther-sometimes into the depths of a man's soul. In between phrases of his spell, Maligor wondered if other wizards were using magic to watch him.

  It didn't matter, he finally decided. He kept the hand gestures required for this rite obscured; those who didn't know this particular spell weren't likely to learn it by viewing him. He knelt shakily on the rough ground. Reaching inside the deep pockets of his robe, he withdrew a crystal vial filled with a red powder so dark it seemed black. He continued the chant while measuring out a minute amount of the horrid-smelling dried wyvern's blood into his palm. Then the Red Wizard drew a circle in the powder with a jagged fingernail, and before the breeze could disturb the components, his voice rose and quickened, and he blew the dried blood into the hedgehog's face.

  Maligor stood quickly and backed away, never taking his eyes from the animal as it convulsed with pain and gasped for breath. Its bristling spines moved like grass in the wind, and its eyes glazed over, changing from black to a glowing scarlet that nearly matched the color of Maligor's robes.