Red Magic

"There aren't many animals around here."

Wynter grumbled. "Even the animals know it's not safe this near Thay, eh?"

Wynter glanced at Bre

Bre

However, she refused to appear beaten. Standing and smiling weakly, she greeted her companions good morning, grabbed the smaller of her bags, and looked around. It was so foggy she had to ask the druid directions to the river, which she was surprised to hear was only a few yards away. She returned about half an hour later, feeling her way through the fog and wearing a new dress, which was beige and decorated with tiny pink flowers. It was no more practical than the ruined blue one she tossed on top of her tent.

"Well, shall we be moving on?" she inquired, feigning being chipper, rested, and ready to go. It was a good performance, she decided. Actually she felt like curling up in a ball and sleeping for a month. Still carrying her bag, she cocked her head in the direction of the First Escarpment.

"Put these on first," Galvin instructed, tossing a pair of hide moccasins in her direction-the hide he had been working on. "Antelope skin. It's thick enough to be comfortable and provide some protection."

The sorceress dropped to the ground and gratefully pulled on the moccasins. She cast a glance in the druid's direction, wondering if he had killed the antelope in order to make the moccasins.

The druid kicked dirt over the flames to douse them while the centaur packed a large chunk of roast antelope into his bag. Then Galvin started toward the escarpment, and Wynter bent to pick up Bre

"Just the bag," she said, not wanting to bother the centaur with something she wouldn't have the energy to unwrap. "Leave the tent behind. Sleeping under the stars is just fine."

The morning fog hung low to the ground and extended upward about fifteen feet. The thick haze looked ghostlike, giving the woods a haunted appearance. Even Galvin had difficulty moving through it, since it cut visibility to only a few feet. The druid wended his way slowly through the trees with one arm extended in front of him and the other off to the side. He looked like a blind man feeling for obstacles. The thorn bushes tore at his leggings, and he tried to push the treacherous branches aside so they wouldn't prick Wynter and Bre

As the sun rose higher in the sky, it burned off most of the fog, revealing the brilliant jade and emerald hues of the large-leafed trees that dominated this section of the woods.

Pressing closer toward the escarpment, they heard the pounding rush of water. Emerging from the edge of the woods shortly after noon, they saw the magnificent falls that cascaded nearly three hundred feet down the First Escarpment and roared into the river. The moisture at the base of the falls looked iridescent, creating a miniature rainbow.

"It's-it's beautiful," Bre

"I've never seen anything more spectacular," Wynter admitted. "But it's sad to think such loveliness marks the boundary of Thay."

"How do we get up?" Bre

Layer upon layer of limestone and granite formed the escarpment, the varying bands of rocks looking like orange, tan, and white ribbons. In places, rocks jutted out at odd angles like daggers pointed toward Aglarond. At intervals, lone, stunted trees struggled to survive on thin, rocky ledges. The escarpment stretched from one horizon to the other. Bre

"There's a main road that cuts through the cliffs south of the river, but we can't take that route. It's guarded closely. But don't worry, we'll find a way." Wynter knew there were other roads and trails that led up the First Escarpment; they were used by slavers, merchants, and other travelers moving in and out of Thay for various reasons. But there were patrols stationed along every one, and only those travelers with the right reasons for coming into or leaving the country were allowed to pass.

Galvin kept just inside the tree line, safe from prying eyes, and started searching to the north. Wynter and Bre

"When I was young, my father would take me to the top of the cliffs," Wynter reminisced. "He'd tell me how grand Thay was, how it sat above the rest of the world because all other countries were beneath it."

"Your father?" Bre

Wynter's eyes looked sad and distant. "My father worked on one of the largest slave plantations in Thay. His dream was to run the plantation. He certainly had the temperament for it. He had no qualms about beating slaves or killing those too ill or old to work. I couldn't stomach watching my father flay the skin off some poor soul's back. I tried to change things, but my family was set in their ways. They believed in slavery, and they weren't going to listen to a child. I left when I was twelve. That was more than a decade ago."

Wynter clenched his fists and stared at the cliffs. He had promised himself he would never return to his homeland. He was wishing now that he had kept that promise.

"Let's try farther north," Wynter suggested. "I remember some places where the cliff isn't quite as steep. Slaves used to try to escape down the escarpment there."

"Did any of them ever make it?" Bre

"A few, probably, though I doubt many did. At least when I lived with my father, I don't remember any being so lucky. They usually killed the slaves they caught trying to escape." Wynter's tone was solemn, and his expression was troubled from talking about the slaves. His hands shook visibly. "But they didn't kill the strongest slaves. Instead, they beat them into submission. Strong slaves are treasured."

Finally they reached a place where the escarpment was not so imposing, although it still stretched more than a hundred feet into the sky. The sun had already begun to set, blazing an orange haze across the top of the cliff so it looked like burnished gold.

"This will have to do, eh?" Wynter said, inspecting the rocky surface.

Galvin examined the slope carefully. Though it was less steep than it was farther to the south, he knew it would still give the centaur difficulty. For a moment, he pondered searching for a better place to enter Thay. After several minutes, he decided on a different alternative.

"Give me a moment, Wyn," he directed as he started up the cliff. The druid was as agile as a monkey, yet displayed more grace. He easily found handholds and footholds and hauled himself up the cliff until he reached a steep section where he doubted the centaur could pass. Then he reached out with his hands and touched the steep rock face.

Below, Bre