"Red Magic" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rabe Jean)

Seven

The lich sat hunched over a centuries-old rosewood desk cluttered with bones of fingers, vials half-filled with assorted dark-colored powders, and yellowed scrolls curling at the corners and covered with runes and scratchings. He peered at the markings with his deep-socketed, ancient eyes and slowly scanned them.

The lich was very old. His pale, paper-thin skin was stretched across his face and limbs, making him appear gaunt, almost skeletal. Fine wisps of white hair were scattered atop his age-spotted head, and his lower lip hung loose, as if it had no muscles to control it. Despite his appearance, the lich was not infirm.

The lich was Szass Tam, the most formidable Red Wizard in Thay.

Across the far edge of the desk, almost beyond the reach of his bony hands, stood five thin candles that had burned down to various heights, none taller than three inches. The wax had dripped into knobby white piles that nearly obscured the candles' small pewter holders, indicating that the lich had been at his desk for some time. The flickering candles were the only source of light in the immense room, which was a combination library-laboratory, and they illuminated little more than the desktop. The walls were lined with shadow-draped bookcases that stretched to the ceiling, interrupted only by two windows that were shuttered and curtained with heavy black velvet. The thousands of books gave the room its overwhelming smell of old, musty paper; if Szass Tam were alive, the odor might have bothered him.

Although it was midmorning, the lich kept the room bathed in dimness. He preferred the candles to sunlight. Even though the undead Zulkir of Necromancy could walk about in daylight, unlike many other types of undead, he preferred the sepulcher-like comfort of the gloom.

On the center of the desk, where a spot had been cleared atop the gleaming wood, a crystal ball, little bigger than a man's fist, rested on the wings of a platinum-edged bronze dragon figurine. Szass Tam had many crystal balls, and he used them frequently to spy on various wizards, tharchions, and other forces in Thay. However, this particular ball was his favorite, and perhaps his most powerful. The polished, enchanted crystal was several hundred years old and had originally belonged to the lich's mentor. Szass Tam had acquired it a long time ago when his magical power increased after he killed his teacher, wresting from the dead man all sorts of arcane devices, elixirs, and books. Dozens of the latter rested on the shelves behind him, their pages now so brittle that the lich avoided handling them unless absolutely necessary. Szass Tam still kept his mentor with him as one of the undead skeletons that patrolled the zulkir's property. It was not out of a perverse sense of superiority, Szass Tam knew. The lich just hated to let dead bodies rot when they could be animated and made to serve him.

Szass Tam drew his arms about the crystal in a protective and covetous gesture and ran his fingers over the cool, perfect surface. With the lich's mental coaxing, the sphere began to pulse with light, appearing a thing alive, and colors-azure, rose, gold, and pale green-danced inside it. The ball glowed more brightly, and the lich moved his face closer. His eyes, appearing as hot, intense pinpoints of red light, peered through the crystal and beyond the confines of his keep, past two villages and to harvested farmland. He concentrated, and the colors parted, revealing a puzzling scene being acted out many, many miles away amid dried, broken cornstalks-a spirit naga castigating a unit of gnolls.

The naga, whom Szass Tam had been observing in Zulkir Maligor's company for the past few years, slithered back and forth in front of a dozen nervous gnolls, gesturing grandly with her arms as her tail swished wildly, obviously berating them for something. Beads of sweat stood out on the creatures' shaggy brows, causing the lich to wonder what they had done wrong.

"Again!" Szass Tam heard the naga yell, her voice as clear through the crystal ball as if she were standing in the same room with him. "You will try it again!"

The twelve gnolls paired off so that each had an opponent. Half assumed a classic defensive stance that the lich remembered seeing several years ago in one of the military books in his library. The others were clearly on the offensive and moved forward, howling and swinging with the flat of their blades. Szass Tam smiled. The naga was not using the gnoll force well.

Overall, gnolls, which were reasonably numerous in Thay, were savage, and their shaggy, wild-dog visages made them fearsome foes. But they were inclined to fight awkwardly with swords, finding it difficult to wrap their pawlike hands about the hilts of the weapons. Their swings rarely varied, making them too predictable. Szass Tam decided the spirit naga would have been better off leaving them to fight with their claws and long, sharp teeth. It would be more natural for them and probably would have better results. "Civilized" fighting was not always the best approach.

Szass Tam believed his own army to be the strongest in Thay. Skeletons, zombies, ghouls, ghasts, wights, and worse made up the bulk of his forces. The undead required no food, except for the ghouls, which usually ate their opponents. The undead did not sleep, and they were fierce because they were bound to the lich and did not fear death. Like any army, the undead had generals; these were the vampires, who possessed a horrible cunning and cruelty, and they did a superb job of ordering about the undead troops. The lich's generals didn't waste time instructing skeletons in the art of swordplay or teaching zombies how to defend themselves. They simply pointed their charges at a target and demanded they move in. The only drawback was that not all in his army were able to move about during the day. Because of this, Szass Tam also relied upon living soldiers.

Szass Tam continued to observe the naga, whose face took on a rosy tint, the blush of anger. He concentrated again, listening through the crystal to capture her words.

"Clowns!" Asp screamed. "I lead an army of clowns and fools! You are sluggish, clumsy oafs! You're far too predictable. You'll never stand long against a well-organized foe. Listen to me! I can turn you into warriors the likes of which Thay has never seen. And if you pay attention to me now, you just might live through the upcoming battle." Her eyes narrowed and her tongue snaked out over her red lips as she reviewed the assembly. In the background, more than three hundred gnolls stood at attention, intently watching their dozen brothers who were the current object of the naga's wrath.

Asp slithered among the twelve, who awkwardly jumped to attention. With amazing speed, her arm shot forward and grabbed a broadsword from a startled gnoll.

"Watch me!" she hissed, motioning for one of the soldiers to step forward. The disconcerted target complied quickly, and she began to circle him, rising and falling on her snake body, making him feel ill at ease.

"Defend yourself, clown!"

The naga waited for the gnoll to draw his weapon, then smiled when she noted that it wavered in his trembling hand. She circled him as more sweat gathered on his face, then moved closer and nodded for him to assume the defensive stance he had been practicing. His brothers backed away to give the pair room, and she lunged out at him, striking like a cobra and swinging her sword so it clanged loudly against his. The gnoll fought to retain hold of the weapon and bent his knees for a better defensive position. He seemed afraid to return her swing, a fatal mistake in Asp's eyes.

"Good," she said as she ran her finger along the edge of her blade. "You've mastered the right defensive stance. Now, everyone observe this, and we'll see just how well your fellow can preserve his mottled hide."

Asp continued to slash at the gnoll, and each time he brought his sword up to parry hers. She was toying with him, having picked a soldier less competent than most for her morbid demonstration. She made three more swings, each stopped by the soldier. Then the naga tired of the game and changed her rhythm, catching the gnoll off guard and slicing through his shaggy hide and into his rib cage. The gnoll howled in pain, dropped his sword, and held his hands over the wound in an attempt to keep the blood from spilling out. He backed away from Asp, thinking the demonstration over, but the naga pressed her attack, swinging at his right arm.

Two swings and the gnoll's arm fell to the ground, blood spurting from his shoulder and jetting onto the naga. The creature fell to his knees, pleading for his life but receiving no support from the others, who remained at attention as they watched the scene in horror.

"Vary your sword thrusts as I have shown you. Keep your opponent guessing. Keep your eyes locked onto his, and show no mercy," Asp instructed coldly. "Above all, show no mercy!" With that, the naga placed both hands on the hilt of her sword and brought the weapon down with all her strength, cleaving the gnoll's head in two. He crumpled, and she presented the bloodied sword to the soldier from whom she had borrowed it.

"I hope this demonstration has been of some help," Asp stated without emotion as once again she began to slither back and forth in front of the gnolls. "Soon you will be joined by two other forces, both larger than yours, and you will march on a mission of great importance, a mission in the name of Zulkir Maligor. You must be at your best. Anything less will bring quick death upon you and disgrace to the zulkir."

Asp wiped an index finger across her arm to collect her victim's blood, then licked it off with her thin tongue while the gnolls watched.

"Your sergeants will work with you the rest of the day. See to it that you pay attention. For Maligor!"

"For Maligor!" they chanted.

Szass Tam stared at Asp's exquisite face and wondered idly how a creature of such beauty could be so malicious. For a moment, he almost envied Maligor. Then the lich muddled over the gnoll force.

The Zulkir of Necromancy had held his position for nearly two centuries, and during that time, he had watched wizards and other zulkirs build forces, march against each other, or march against the armies at the borders of Aglarond and Mulhorand. Few of the attacks had been successful, as the wizards never worked together. When they fought each other, they simply managed to perpetuate mistrust and suspicion between the wizards; this led to political treachery and double crosses.

The lich doubted that whatever Maligor was planning would work either, but nevertheless it gnawed at him.

Szass Tam knew that Zulkir Maligor, in charge of Thay's School of Alteration Magic, had contented himself the past few decades to false dealings with lesser wizards and power plays that netted him shares of wealthy merchants' profits and goods. Maligor didn't strike the lich as the type of wizard who favored physical assaults or large-scale battles, and because of that, the lich had not viewed Maligor as a threat. He thought Maligor had been keeping the gnolls as more of a deterrent to other Red Wizards than as an offensive force.

Szass Tam, on the other hand, frequently went on the offensive. Typical of all liches, he desired nothing more than to enhance his own power at any cost. And Szass Tam's idea of power was nothing less than complete control of Thay. However, unlike the other zulkirs, Szass Tam had centuries in which to work his evil plan. Szass Tam was not of this world anymore, having progressed beyond mere human existence to an undead state. Like his undead army, he no longer required sleep or food, which allowed him all the time he needed to lavish over magical tomes and build his supernatural might. Furthermore, he possessed an unearthly patience that would let him wait a dozen decades or more before he moved against all of Thay to swallow his fellow zulkirs and proclaim himself king of the evil land. During that waiting time, he would research spells the other wizards only dreamed of and increase his army of undead.

And also during that time, he would continue to work with the Council of Zulkirs, watching each zulkir closely and keeping abreast of all their schemes and dealings. Szass Tam would continue to note their weaknesses and strengths in order to decide how best to overcome them when the time was right to strike. That time would come far in the future, when some of the current zulkirs would be rotting in their graves, waiting for the lich to enlist them into his army. For now, the lich enjoyed toying with the other wizards; he would not move against them until he was certain he could crush all of them-and preferably all at once. He would not work with them individually in the meantime. He did not trust any of the other Red Wizards, and he regarded joining forces with them as a show of his own weakness.

Gazing at the crystal ball, Szass Tam saw the naga instructing a smaller group of gnolls who wore leather breastplates and were more heavily armed. Perhaps these are Maligor's generals, the lich mused. Asp was demanding better performance. The clang of swords covered up most of the conversation; the gnolls were working hard to improve.

Tiring of the display, the lich ran his hand over the crystal, and the colors reappeared, obscuring the scene. The glow from the ball faded, and Szass Tam pushed himself away from his desk, taking up the scarlet robe he had laid across the back of his chair and putting it on over his simple, long linen tunic. The robe hung loosely on the lich's cadaverous form. The folds draped to the floor and made the costly garment appear several sizes too large.

Szass Tam did nothing to mask his appearance when he was alone or with his undead minions. Only in public did he put on a truly human face-one of a tall, scholarly man with jet-black eyes and fleshy cheeks. To walk around looking like an undead creature would unnerve too many important Thayvians. He also knew that appearances were frequently deceiving in his country and that other zulkirs and their underlings also masked their true likenesses.

His frail-looking arms were nearly lost in the sleeves of the silken robe. The edges of the garment and the trim around the hood were embroidered with gold thread seeded with garnets. The lich enjoyed the fineries of human manufacture, like his expensive clothes and jewels. Others of his foul kind preferred to remain in the clothes they died in, looking like ill-preserved mummies and smelling like the grave. Szass Tam believed clothes presented an image, and thus he always decorated himself in the latest and most costly fashions.

He glided to the bookcase nearest the door and made a slight gesture with his left hand. Immediately he seemed to grow taller. The folds of the robe, which lay about his feet like a pool of blood, vanished, and in an instant, the hem barely touched the floor. The lich was floating, his slippered, skeletal feet dangling in the air. Pointing a bony finger toward the ceiling, he rose higher, ascending slowly, like a marionette pulled by invisible strings. He levitated up several feet, moving as a ghost, until his eyes were level with the topmost shelf. For several moments, he hovered in the air, studying the bindings of the books, which were worn and unreadable because of the passage of time. He grasped a thick red book from the center of the shelf and opened it to the first page to make sure it was the work he sought. Satisfied, he descended like a feather to the floor and padded from the room, reading the book as he went.

The volume was one of military strategies, a subject that the lich usually only had a passing interest in. He was curious about it now primarily because of Maligor's gnoll forces. Szass Tam glided through the halls of his fortified keep, passing skeletons, wights, mummies, and other creatures. He had four keeps in Thay; this was the largest, situated between Amruthar and Eltabar. It was ringed with graveyards, where more of his minions slept, waiting to be called to his defense if need be. The lands around this and his other keeps were patrolled by undead-in the evening with all manner of creatures, including several vampires and ghosts under his control, in the day by living men and by skeletons and zombies cloaked in heavy robes to help hide their appearance.

Szass Tam was more of a force to be feared after dark because his most powerful undead could only walk under the cover of darkness. Still, he knew the other zulkirs considered him too powerful a force to threaten even in bright daylight.

The lich continued to pace in his keep, lost in the writings of some long-dead general. It amused him that humans sought to gain land, influence, wealth, and glory through wars, only to lose all those things because of their mortality. He knew that Maligor had lived beyond a normal human lifespan. Most of the other zulkirs had also prolonged their lives by magical means. But Maligor was the oldest on the council other than Szass Tam, and the lich knew that the Zulkir of Alteration intended to live forever. However, Szass Tam was confident that Maligor didn't have the arcane ability to turn himself into a lich at the onset of his death. Drinking potions to extend his life would not work eternally. At some point, the magic would burn him up.

Why then does he vex me? Szass Tam wondered. Why do I bother to concern myself with Maligor's petty doings? Why do I waste my time watching him, watching his spirit naga? The lich persisted in questioning his own motives as he continued to scan the book.

It is my stance in Thay, he concluded, knowing the answer all along. If Maligor grows in power, that diminishes my power-even if nothing about me or my land is affected. I can't have that. No, I must do something about it, and I must do something without the other wizards learning I am taking action. But first I must discover what my living brother is up to.

Szass Tam hated mysteries.

The lich continued to peruse the book for several more hours, then returned to his library-laboratory to find the room plunged in darkness. The candles had burned themselves out and dripped wax onto the desktop. Cursing, Szass Tam pulled back a velvet curtain, letting moonlight pour into the room. He closed his eyes and thought of someone, and several minutes later she appeared with a cleaning rag in one hand and a bundle of new candles in the other.

The thin, pleasant-looking, middle-aged woman glanced at the zulkir, who now appeared as a tall, scholarly man with jet-black eyes and fleshy cheeks. She bowed to him, smiled, and moved to the desk.

"Sorry, master," she said quietly. "I should have known to check on you, but I thought the candles would burn longer, and I really didn't want to interrupt you. Forgive me. These should last a good while." The woman, one of three dozen living servants he harbored in his keep, busied herself removing each drop of wax from the desk and from around the pewter holders with a thin-bladed knife. Then she carefully put the new candles in place and lit them. The woman knew the desk was important to Szass Tam, being a very old "gift" from his mentor.

"Do you require anything else, master?"

Szass Tam smiled and shook his head. "That will be all, Charmaine," he said. The lich favored the woman, who had served him well for three decades. He provided her only with food; instead of gold, she sought immortality. The lich had promised to have one of his vampires give her eternal life when he was finished with her employment-probably in a few more years. Then she would continue to serve him faithfully forever.

Charmaine closed the door behind her. Szass Tam pulled the curtain shut, walked to his desk, and sat to gaze into the crystal ball again. It would be the last time he used it today-prolonged use was mentally taxing, even for him. It could also be dangerous. The longer the lich's mind remained linked to a scene in the ball, the more his consciousness wanted to stay there. He ran his now fleshy hand over the ball, felt its cool smoothness, and concentrated on Zulkir Maligor.

The colors danced, coalesced, and parted to reveal Maligor's face. The crystal ball appeared cloudy because of the wards Maligor had in place. The lich was furious and concentrated harder. Still the colors swirled.

At the same instant, Maligor felt something, a tugging at his mind, a tickling sensation that made it difficult for him to concentrate and made him edgy. He tried to keep at bay the persistent presence that was trying to contact him. The force was strong-definitely another zulkir, Maligor determined. He was angry at himself for so focusing his attention on his work that he had let his guard down. Still the mind reached out to his, and still Maligor resisted. Like a child caught doing something wrong, the wizard fluttered about to cover his work, then strolled to the window.

Maligor had the power to keep the probing zulkir from disturbing his endeavors, but he was curious, and he wanted to know who wished to contact him and why. Opening the barred window and inhaling the fresh air, he dropped his guard more and let the presence come.

Maligor's eyes narrowed. It was Szass Tam.

"Zulkir Maligor," the lich intoned in a rich, even voice. "We must talk."

Maligor glanced out over the open-air market, which was crowded at midday. He caught the faint smell of chickens and other livestock and vegetables drying in the sun. He surveyed the scene for several minutes, making the lich wait.

In his library, Szass Tam merely smiled. Maligor's show of preeminence was lost on the lich. Szass Tam was content to wait and peer through the crystal ball at Maligor, studying the darkened circles beneath his adversary's old eyes. Maligor hadn't slept much, the lich knew. His fingers were stained with ink, he was tired and unkempt, and he was most certainly up to something. Still, he was not so weary that he was careless. Szass Tam strained to see past him into the room beyond to catch a glimpse of what he had been doing. All he saw was a plate of food and a half-empty glass of wine. Even that picture was hazy because of the magical wards.

What was he up to? the lich continued to wonder. Maligor's puppet, the spirit naga, wasn't with him. Perhaps she was still in the field drilling the gnolls, where the lich had viewed her hours earlier. It was unusual for the evil beauty to be far from her mentor's side, where it was easier to gather up the crumbs he left behind.

"Talk, then," Maligor said, satisfied he had made his rival wait long enough. "You have my attention for a few moments. Is this something about the next meeting of the Council of Zulkirs? That is two weeks away. And you already know my stance on strengthening the First Escarpment forces."

"I don't care about your position on the escarpment," Szass Tam replied, allowing a wavering vision of himself to appear in the air before Maligor. He knew the form would hold Maligor's attention. "I care about your gnoll forces. I want to know what you plan to do with them."

"Surely you don't think I'd be foolish enough to take them against you," Maligor said, feigning surprise. "I'm no fool, Szass Tam. My forces are not meant for you."

The scholarly vision of Szass Tam solidified, but only to Maligor. Others would have seen only air. "I respect your intelligence," the lich lied. "You are among the most powerful zulkirs in Thay, and I know your wisdom would not allow you to challenge me. But I still want to know who your gnolls will challenge."

Maligor smiled. If Szass Tam was bothered by his gnolls, other wizards and tharchions would be concerned also. The lich's interest also made Maligor aware that he would have to set his plan into motion very soon to prevent other wizards from moving against the gnolls. He remained quiet, mulling over the situation and waiting for Szass Tam to continue. He didn't wait long.

"I want to know your scheme, friend zulkir." The lich's voice dripped with sarcasm. "I want to know what you are about. I may even want a piece of your plan."

Maligor thrust his hands in his pockets and rotated his neck to work out the stiffness. There was no hiding from the lich that he had been working on something.

"Very well," Maligor said, pretending defeat. "I should have known you would take an interest in my dealings. And I am certain that if you've been watching my gnolls, others have as well. I just want to be able to move them without interference, Szass Tam. If you desire a 'piece' of my plan, I will undoubtedly have to give it to you. With your undead army, you'd wrest it from me anyway. But if you are to take your 'piece' at least give me some aid in this endeavor." Maligor fingered a lump of gold in his pocket as he considered how to phrase his false plan.

"I plan to march against a young Red Wizard from the magical School of Illusion, who is likely beneath your notice. His name is Rembert Wellford, a distant cousin to a tharchion in Eltabar, and he has recently completed his apprenticeship and has gone off on his own.

"The young man has only begun to build his forces and attempt to make a name for himself in Thay. If I don't march against him, another wizard will. He isn't a major power, and I will keep him from becoming one. It isn't that I expect him to grow to any significant stature. I don't think he has the mettle or guile. Besides, if his position was my concern, I would let him be and concentrate on something else. It is his land that interests me."

Maligor watched Szass Tam's image, content that he had intrigued the lich's prying nature, although he remained skeptical whether the lich believed him or not. The lich would be a fool to, he knew.

"The land is rich, some of the richest earth in Thay," Maligor said truthfully. "In my lifetime, I have never been concerned with crops and weather spells, but I have come to realize that those things also equate to power. The land isn't far from another expanse of property I own, so conquering it would serve to increase my territory."

"Nor is it far from some of my land," Szass Tam said.

"Hence, your 'piece,' as you call it," Maligor continued. "I will divide this land with you. Of course, I will take the larger portion, since it will be my gnolls fighting for it. Still, you will have a significant section of land. All I ask is that you use your skeletons and zombies as a deterrent. I don't want them to join my gnolls. This is my undertaking, and my force is more than up to it. I just want you to gather a group of your undead to make some other wizards nervous. It will split their attention so not all eyes are on me."

Maligor was becoming increasingly pleased with himself, certain that his plan sounded plausible.

"You wouldn't oppose me in this, would you?" Maligor queried, seeking some response from the lich.

"No," Szass Tam said simply. "Although I am curious why you have just now developed an interest in fertile land. Still, your plan is interesting. Does Rembert Wellford suspect anything? And his neighbors… are they powerful? Where precisely is this land?"

"The land is south of Eltabar, nearly directly east of Amruthar," Maligor said as he continued to finger the gold in his pocket. "His neighbors are inconsequential farmers under the jurisdiction of other wizards. While the wizards are a concern, the farmers are not-they can't possibly stand up to my gnolls. And I don't think Rembert has a clue. Even if he did, he could do nothing to stop me. If he has associates, they aren't likely to step in to aid him. Helping Rembert would only leave them open to my wrath. His former mentor, the Zulkir of Illusion, wouldn't help him either."

"You've planned well," Szass Tam said. "But Rembert's land has importance beyond its agricultural value, although you haven't mentioned that. The land isn't far from the sanctuary of the Zulkir of Illusion. It is within striking distance, a good military perch if you are considering positioning yourself against the zulkir."

Maligor didn't respond at first, letting the silence linger. He feigned looking disconcerted and cast his eyes downward at his slippered feet.

"Well, there is that about the land," Maligor admitted, allowing himself an evil grin. "I suppose the property's position is just as important as the richness of its soil."

"I want half the land," Szass Tam demanded quietly. "That will keep you from becoming too strong. And I will not help you," he added in a tone that brooked no dissension. "I will not muster any undead to draw attention away from you-and to me. I will not give you a portion of my army to aid in your plan. However, I will not oppose you, and that is of consequence. Nor will I spread word of your scheme."

"I could indeed expect no more from you," Maligor said graciously, accepting the lich's part in his ruse, "and when I am successful, half the land will be yours. We are agreed, then?"

The image of the lich wavered, became ghostlike, then melted away.

"We are agreed," the air replied.

Maligor felt the presence depart. Then he concentrated to shield his mind from any further interruptions and closed the barred windows. His plans couldn't be progressing better, he thought, delighted that the lich seemed certain of his target. But Maligor knew the Zulkir of Necromancy, knew that he was capable of backstabbing and twisting promises. No doubt the lich planned to take all of Rembert Wellford's land once it was in the hands of Maligor's gnolls. The lich wouldn't settle for a mere half, and taking all of it would be a likely double cross. Or, far less likely, perhaps Szass Tam would try to take the land before Maligor's gnolls could get there.

Perhaps the gnolls truly will have to move against Rembert to keep the lich satisfied and unsuspecting, Maligor thought. And if a young, power-hungry Rembert had to fall to mask the real plan, it would be an added benefit. Then there was Asp, the zulkir added to himself. He would no longer be lying to the naga if he really did go after an important piece of land.

Maligor padded to his marble-topped table, pushed aside his cold plate of boiled fish, and placed a page of parchment before him. Dipping a quill in honey-scented ink, he began to pen a spell. Four completed scrolls, neatly tied with cord, lay on the right-hand corner of his table. Next to them lay a half-dozen blank scrolls waiting for Maligor's attention. He sipped a glass of spiced blackberry wine between passages.

The Zulkir of Alteration was obsessed with increasing his darkenbeast army. Under cover of last night's darkness, he had moved half his force, along with their inhuman guardians, to the basement of an abandoned grain mill north of Amruthar. That left room in the tower's lower level for more darkenbeasts.

Maligor recognized his limitations. A human mind could hold only so many spells within it, only enough to let him create four or five dozen darkenbeasts a day. However, by transferring those spells onto paper instead-the scrolls in front of him-he would be able to create far more of the beasts tomorrow. He had been adding to his magical scroll collection, having nearly two dozen now. Tomorrow, or perhaps the next day, he would read them all, transforming every loose rodent and caged animal in his tower into a deadly creature.

That many darkenbeasts should be enough, he thought. Maligor paused, then decided to take stock of his other magical constructs and servants. It wouldn't do to take all of his forces out of the tower and leave it unprotected. He took mental inventory of his golems, magical creatures that were manlike in form but were made of stone and clay. They moved slowly, but they were relentless and powerful, and some were ensorcelled with special powers that allowed them to breathe flame. He also had a dozen apprentices here, only half of which he would take with him to the gold mines. The remainder should have enough defensive spells to keep anyone who might make it past his magical guards and wards and golems at bay. There were also the gnoll tower guards and slaves, should anyone be so foolish to attack his holdings.

All of that should be more than enough, if for some reason another Red Wizard decided to attack his keep while he was gone. However, he remained confident that all energies would be directed against his gnolls and their false battle plans.

Reveling in the intricacies of his scheme, the Red Wizard went to the cabinet and retrieved more blank scrolls. More darkenbeasts, he thought-many, many more darkenbeasts. He resumed penning the enchanted scrolls.

In his library, Szass Tam leaned back in his chair, staring at the clear crystal ball that sparkled in the light of the thick tapers. It was undeniable that Maligor had lied to him; the Zulkir of Alteration would have no reason to tell the lich what he really intended to do with the gnolls.

Szass Tam reverently pushed the crystal ball to the side of his desk and cleared a larger space in the center. He rose, paced to a map holder, and ran a slender, bony finger over the unmarked tubular map cases. The lich selected the center tube, which contained a map showing an overview of the central portion of Thay. He returned to his desk and pulled the map from its container. Spreading the clothlike parchment out on the desk, he placed a candle on each corner to weigh it down and prevent it from curling. Amruthar showed several inches from the western edge of the map.

Running his left index finger from Amruthar to the land now held by Rembert Wellford, the lich imagined Maligor's gnolls marching on the young illusionist.

One thing was certain, Szass Tam decided. Maligor wasn't interested in Wellford's holdings. The lich studied maps of Thay until well in the evening, formulating possible uses for the gnolls and probable targets. He was frustrated, however, finding nothing that stood out as Maligor's likely goal. He resigned himself to continuing his postulations and to keeping his "agreement" with the Zulkir of Alteration.

It was well after midnight when a weary Charmaine rapped on the door. "So sorry to disturb you, master," she said, her voice muffled behind the wood, "but one of your minions insists on speaking with you."

Szass Tam put on his fleshly form and gestured toward the door. It creaked open, revealing Charmaine, in her bedclothes, holding a candle. A ghoul stood next to her, attempting to keep its distance from the flame. The undead man shuffled forward, bits of its rotting flesh clinging to the doorframe as it passed through. The ghoul at one time had been a jeweler in Eltabar; gold glinted from around his wrists and neck where his neck chain and bracelets had imbedded themselves in rotting flesh. Pieces of expensive clothing still hung on his unnaturally thin frame.

"Will there be anything else, master?" Charmaine queried softly.

"No. You may go."

Charmaine gracefully retreated down the hall, the candlelight marking her passage.

The lich turned to face the undead creature as it ambled toward him. The ghoul had difficulty speaking, since half of its lower jaw was missing. Szass Tam opted to pull the information from its undead mind rather than translate its guttural words into understandable conversation.

The ghoul told Szass Tam of the patrol he was a part of, how they had spotted movement and heard voices in a small grove of trees and how the ghouls had hungrily moved in to investigate. In the center of the trees were three humans, one of them likely Thayvian because of his bald head, and a centaur. The bald man died quickly, but the others were unusually strong and resourceful, killing most of the ghoul patrol. It told its master how it escaped to relay this information directly, since somehow in its decomposing brain, it believed the information was important.

Szass Tam mentally pressed the ghoul for more, and it complied, telling him in detail what the surviving humans, a blond-haired man and a fire-haired woman, looked like. To the ghoul, the centaur appeared much like those who worked on the slave plantations and elsewhere in Thay. The lich didn't find the information especially interesting, assuming that the ghoul described a pair of slaves and their centaur keeper.

But then the ghoul mentioned a shiny chain it saw dangling from the blond man's neck. It was adorned with a polished silver moon affixed to a harp. The jewelry had come loose from under the man's clothing during the fight, and the ghoul noticed it because it disliked silver.

Szass Tam's abandoned his fleshly form as the ghoul continued to describe the unsuccessful battle to the half-listening lich. The lich's eyes, now pinpoints of hot light, stared into the dark corners of the library.

"Harpers," he whispered.