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.
Six
Brenna’s charmed guide continued to lead the trio through the well-maintained orchard, pointing out imps and other less predictable creatures as they journeyed. Traveling was easy, since the ground was level and the grass short and well tended. The strong, cool breeze rustled the branches of the citrus trees and refreshed the Harpers and the sorceress, whipping the hair away from their faces and catching the enchantress’s dress so it swirled madly about her ankles. The bald guide eyed the woman. Even in the starlight, he could watch her curves as the wind tugged her dress back and forth. Trying to gain her attention, he paused to point at a dozen soft yellow lights in the trees to the north. The lights resembled giant hovering fireflies.
“Pretty, huh?” he whispered into Brenna’s ear. “I like to sit and look at ’em.”
“Beautiful. What are they, uh … I’m sorry. I don’t know your name.”
“Elwin. My name’s Elwin. C’mon. I’ll take you closer so you can see ’em. But be quiet. We don’t want to bother ’em.”
Brenna cautiously urged Elwin forward, keeping an arm’s length from him. The Harpers followed close behind. The fireflies’ glow became lanterns hanging from branches, illuminating the trees so the forty or more slaves working there under the watchful eye of armed orcs could see to pick the fruit. Suddenly Wynter stopped, and for a moment, Galvin worried that the centaur would try to free the obviously mistreated group.