Red Magic

The small crowd began to laugh again, and the druid glanced up to see that the first dwarf he had tended to was wrapping the rope about the centaur's legs again. Wynter looked at Galvin forlornly and tried to sidestep the rope. This action only resulted in his becoming entangled with another rope leash.

The beef was cold by the time Galvin had untangled all the dwarves and warned them to behave. Grabbing their leashes from the centaur, he began herding the uncooperative slaves down the street like untrained dogs. Wynter ate hungrily as he followed, Bre

As they neared the north gate, the druid related what he had learned.

"It looks like Maligor is preparing for some kind of war. His target appears to be another wizard."

"Then he's not after Aglarond?" Bre

"Or any other neighboring country," Wynter added. "Still, we're here. Let's poke around a little more tomorrow to be certain. Rumors aren't facts, and any information will be valuable to the Harpers."

"From what I gathered," Wynter continued, "Maligor is one of the most powerful wizards in Thay. He's got to be close to two hundred years old, and no one is expecting him to die anytime soon."

"The man I listened to said Maligor has been amassing an army of gnolls. Rumor has it that he has several hundred camped northwest of Amruthar." Galvin lowered his voice. "By the way, his tower is at the west edge of the city. I suspect it's that massive building we passed just before the gates."

The druid began to walk faster, tugging the dwarves behind him. When he was within fifty feet of the gate, the dwarves began to mumble among themselves and suddenly sat down on the ground, almost in unison. Galvin yanked and pulled on their rope leashes, but he couldn't budge them.

"Damn, Wynter," the druid cursed. "Why did you saddle us with these dwarves? We really don't need this problem right now." He tugged again, and the dwarves glowered at him.

As Bre

Fuming, Bre

"Wynter!" she shouted.

The centaur wisely kept his distance from the dwarves, noting that the incident had drawn the attention of the guards at the gate. He glanced at Galvin and Bre

"The slaver said I might have a few problems with them," he said softly. "They weren't very expensive."

Galvin grabbed the ends of the rope, turned, faced the gate, and pumped his legs, pulling like a draft horse. Huffing with the effort, he eventually found himself moving forward slowly, pulling the struggling dwarves.

On the barbicon above, the guards laughed and opened the gate. Galvin and the dwarves, followed by Bre

The tent town was almost a permanent fixture, a fringe district of Amruthar, judging by the packed, grassless earth beneath the tents. Most of the residents were here only to sell their goods, then move on to another town to acquire more inventory. However, the place also served as a more or less permanent home to some of the city's poorer residents who couldn't afford lodging inside the walls.

Galvin, Wynter, and Bre

"Okay," Wynter stared as he helped Galvin drag the dwarves. "So Maligor has an army of gnolls. I don't think a thousand gnolls could take this place. There are too many wizards here to fight back. His target has to be outside the city. Besides, if you could find out about the gnolls by simply going to di

"It's puzzling," Galvin admitted. "In any event, we need to get a close look at Maligor's place."

"Get those slaves outta here!" an old woman barked as one of the dwarves lobbed a clod of dirt in her direction. Her companions cackled and encouraged the dwarf to try again.

Galvin and Wynter pulled harder. They passed by a large group of campers who obviously knew each other. The men had circled around a fire for a game of chance. Near them, two women in brightly colored scarves danced about a campfire. The conversation was abundant and covered the weather, the day's business, and the city's tax policies.

One group was even discussing Maligor's gnolls.

The travelers and their slaves selected a spot on the edge of the tent town where they could talk freely and weren't likely to be invited by their neighbors to share in any festivities. Wynter used crude hand signals, indicating the dwarves should sit. They refused, of course.

When he merely shrugged and ignored them, the dwarves finally sat, looking defiant. Bre

"If we take them to Aglarond, I can get them cleaned up and give them a few gold pieces," she said.

"If we make it back to Aglarond," Wynter added, surprised the dwarves weren't bolting.

"We've more things to worry about than the dwarves," Galvin said as he stretched out on the ground. Bre

"I'm just glad I was able to buy a few slaves their freedom," Wynter said softly, not wanting any nearby campers to hear. He vividly described the condition of the pens to Galvin, then waited for a response, but the druid had had enough conversation for the day and pretended to sleep.

Nine

Asp clung to the shadows outside Maligor's tower. The nearby gnoll guards paid her little attention, knowing it was healthier not to question the spirit naga about her business.

She rested back on her snake's lower body, leaning her shoulders against the cool, smooth stone wall and twitching the end of her tail through the dewy grass. In her pale, slender hands, she cradled a large weasel. Asp ran her fingers through its silky fur and hissed softly to the creature. The weasel seemed to enjoy the attention and lay still for the naga's caresses.

"Maligor will be proud of me," she hissed in a barely audible tone. "I've watched him closely. I, too, can create darkenbeasts."

The naga slithered farther along the wall, away from the guards and toward the rear of the tower. Setting the weasel down amid a thick clump of grass, she scratched its neck and lay on her belly to watch it sniff a patch of clover. Then, reaching in her pouch for the powders she had "borrowed" from Maligor, the snake-woman sprinkled them on the weasel's back and began mumbling the words she had heard Maligor recite.

She kept her voice soft, not wanting to draw the attention of the guards or any slaves who might be milling about. The weasel's nose began to quiver, finally sensing danger. The moment it started to bolt, Asp's tail shot through the grass like a striking cobra and fastened itself about the animal's back legs to hold it in place.

The frightened weasel tried to squirm free, but the naga persisted with the spell. By the time Asp had finished with the words, the creature had begun the horrid metamorphosis.

The weasel shed its hair as its skin bubbled and oozed. Asp quickly drew her tail away and slithered back a few feet. The thing cried out, almost like a human infant, as its bones stretched, making loud popping and cracking sounds. Talons formed at the ends of its front feet, yet its back feet remained those of a weasel. Then its jaw elongated; rows of long, jagged teeth filled its misshapen mouth. The thing continued to grow until it was as big as a bull and appeared a cross between a weasel and a lizard.