Red Magic

Ahead, Wynter came to a stop. Galvin and Bre

The centaur continued on for several more blocks, turning down one street, then going up another, his hooves clopping rhythmically on the cobblestones. Bre

Bre

Wynter paused several yards from the pens and glanced over his shoulder, nodding for Bre

"I'll look over the slave pens for an hour or two, inspecting the merchandise and talking to other buyers." The centaur's eyes were sad as he stared at the pens. "Since Maligor's a zulkir, he's bound to have plenty of slaves. Maybe I can find out a little bit about our wizard friend here."

Bre

Wynter had heard the location of a respected business district only a few blocks away and pointed the sorceress and Galvin in that direction.

"Meet me back here in two hours," Wynter advised. "I won't be able to stomach the pens any longer than that. If you're not here by then, I'll know you've found trouble and I'll come looking for you." Wynter pawed at the ground and lowered his voice. "One of the slavers is watching us, so let's be about our tasks."

Bre

There were sidewalks in the small but fashionable business district-planks raised above the cobblestone streets and covered with awnings to keep the shoppers dry during showers and cool during the heat of midday. There were plenty of Thayvians about, but not nearly the number as in the open-air market.

Galvin saw that these people acted differently, more refined and courteous. They didn't shove each other to get a better position near a store window. Most were dressed well, and aside from the slaves they had in tow to carry their packages, they didn't strike him as objectionable. Obviously not everyone in Thay was bad. The druid wondered what kept the good people in such an evil land.

"We don't have much time," Bre

"How about this one?" he suggested, pointing at a women's dress shop, the exterior of which was made of rose-colored stone rather than clay bricks. The large front window was trimmed with light blue paint, and bright red flowers were arranged in a planter in front of it. A deep green dress with sequin trim hung in the window.

"Good choice," she said, thinking Galvin was looking at the dress; in fact, he was staring at the flowers. "But that particular dress is a bit flashy for me. I want to look rich, not gaudy. I'll go inside and see what I can find. There's a men's shop next door. Make use of it."

Galvin waited until Bre

"High class for a slave."

The man behind the counter startled Galvin, and the druid whirled around to face the speaker, his eyes at the same time taking in row upon row of folded clothes and brass lanterns that cast a soft, even glow throughout the shop's interior.

"Sure you're in the right shop?" the proprietor persisted, eyeing Galvin intently, as if memorizing every detail about him. The man was thin and bald, and the riot of tattoos on his head made it look as if he was wearing a cap. His skin was nearly white from lack of sun and it had the appearance of parchment, frail and brittle.

"Are you in the right place?" the man asked, his voice rising. He emphasized each word.

"My mistress…" the druid stammered, uncertain of what to say and debating whether to flee back out into the street.

A glimmer caught in the man's dark blue eyes. "Hmmm… I see," he said, rubbing his manicured hands together. "She wants you to look presentable, huh?"

"Yes," Galvin said nervously, glancing about and spying a rack of cloaks, several of them green. The druid hadn't been in a clothing store since his youth. The memory was uncomfortable, as were the outfits his mother had ordered him to try on.

He quickly attempted to take everything in, realizing he must look foolish. Focusing on the glass counter in front of the proprietor, he tried to relax and failed miserably.

"Haven't been in a place like this before, huh? It's rare that we get one of your kind here."

The druid cast his eyes on the polished floor that smelled faintly of lemons and clenched his fist. He understood why Wynter was so opposed to slavery.

"I need clothes," Galvin said simply.

The proprietor laughed and waved his hand at the racks and neatly stacked piles of clothes. "Go ahead. Just don't get anything dirty."

The druid lost himself in a long aisle of cedar shelves, grateful to be out of view of the shop owner. He sca

"Right size?"

The druid shrugged.

The proprietor shook his head at Galvin. "Turn around. Here." The bald man strode from behind the counter and held the tunic up to Galvin's back, snickering when he discovered the shoulders were far too small. "You need something bigger. C'mon, I'll help you. Your mistress better appreciate this."

"Do Red Wizards ever shop here?" Galvin asked as the man ushered him back down the aisle.

"Sometimes," the man replied, muttering softly about the stupidity of slaves.

"Any zulkirs?"

"Why does a slave care where Red Wizards shop?"

"Just interested," Galvin replied glumly.

Replacing the tunic Galvin had selected, the man ignored the druid and thumbed through a stack, pulling out an olive-green shirt. He handed it to Galvin and strolled deeper into the store.

"Need some leggings?"

Galvin nodded. The druid realized there were enough articles in this store to clothe an entire village.

"What color?"

The druid flushed. "Umm, green. Or brown. It really doesn't matter."

The bald man shook his head and pulled a tan pair of breeches from another stack. Holding them in front of the druid, he smiled, pleased he had guessed the size correctly.

"And a cloak. Green or gray, I suppose," Galvin added, remembering the green ones he had spotted when he came in. "I guess the color isn't important."

The proprietor shuffled to the racks and sca

Galvin shifted back and forth on his feet. "I should have another set," he decided. "Just in case."