Red Magic

"No." The centaur pawed at the ground. "So which wizards beat me out of your best stock?"

"The Zulkir of Alteration, Maligor, got the best of them, or rather his woman did. A young Red Wizard near the market bought quite a few, too. He's still here. I can introduce you."

The centaur looked across the pens and spotted a scarlet-robed man eyeing the group of slave families. "No. But I am curious about Maligor. Where can I find him?"

The slaver laughed hard enough to make all the painted eyes on his head wiggle animatedly. He slapped his hand against a bony hip and stared up at Wynter.

"Now, I don't know anyone who wants to find a wizard as powerful as Maligor, at least anyone who works on a slave plantation-especially when the wizard seems to be up to something." The eyes eventually stopped quivering, and the slaver scratched a spot on his head above one of the eyestalks. The design remained unaltered; it was a permanent tattoo.

"Maybe I have some pleasure slaves to sell him," Wynter said, deepening his voice and making the conversation instantly somber. "Where can I find this woman or one of his other agents? And do you know what he's up to?"

"Don't know. Don't care. I mind my own business. Too bad your daddy hasn't taught you to mind yours. If you want to find one of his agents, look in the Gold Dragon I

The slaver glanced over his shoulder at the wizard scrutinizing the slaves in the pen. "Now, if you're not going to buy anything…" He smiled broadly, grabbed the centaur's hand and shook it firmly, then moved toward the young Red Wizard.

Wynter peered across the slave pens at all the doleful expressions of the occupants. He knew that slavery existed in other pockets of Faerun, but nowhere was it more blatant than in Thay, and in no other country were there more slaves than free men. He reached inside his money pouch and felt the coins, then trotted determinedly toward the slaver.

Galvin and Bre

"Damn!" Galvin cursed softly, ru

"What are you doing?" the druid fumed, glaring up into the centaur's face. "Don't tell me you bought these slaves!"

"I had to," Wynter replied.

"No. No, you didn't. This is just great, Wyn."

Bre

Galvin glanced down at the dwarves. They were dirty and haggard-looking, and the ends of their snarled beards were tucked under the ropes tied about their waists. The clothes they wore were too big-discarded human outfits, no doubt. Healthy dwarves would have had too much girth for the clothes, but these were obviously malnourished.

The five stared up at the druid with hatred etched in their eyes. One strained against the rope Wynter held.

"Listen, I'm sorry," Galvin began, apologizing to the slaves for his outburst.

"They don't understand you," Wynter interrupted. "They only speak Dwarvish."

"Wonderful," Galvin replied, fingering the clasp of his cloak nervously. "Well, bring them along. We'll let them go when we're outside the city."

Bre

"Yeah," he said softly. "Our next stop is the Gold Dragon I

"After that we'll need to find a place to stay," Bre

Wynter pulled on the dwarf's rope and was greeted with a solid kick to his leg. "That's enough!" he snapped, snarling at the dwarves. His angry expression subdued them into a disgruntled quiet.

The centaur looked at Bre

"I know we shouldn't separate." Galvin's tone was commanding. "We camp outside town."

"Well, okay," Bre

Several minutes later, Bre

The Gold Dragon I

"How do we find anything out here? Talk to people?" Bre

"Shh!" Galvin shushed softly. "We listen. See those four over there?" The druid nodded in the direction of a foppish-looking group. "They're talking about the Council of Zulkirs. The pair to our right is pla

Bre

The waiter was short and stocky. As he bent over the table to serve their food, Bre

"For Wynter," he said, then resumed listening to the diners' chatter.

When the beef arrived, Bre

Outside, the street was coated in thick, gray shadows; there were fewer people about now, and they walked near the buildings and congregated under the corner lamplights. A small throng was gathered about Wynter, laughing.

Bre

Forgetting how a slave should act, Galvin thrust the plate of beef into Bre