Elaine Cunningham: The Best of the Realms, Book I

"An amulet of containment," Hadroghexplained, pointing to the collar of gold that tightly encircled the man'sneck. "It is a magical shield that keeps the wizard from casting any ofthe spells he has learned and committed to memory. He can, however, learn andcast new spells. His mind is intact, as are his remembered spells. As are hishands, for that matter. Admittedly, this is a costly method of transportingmagically-gifted slaves, but my reputation demands that I deliver undamagedmerchandise."

A rare smile broke across Xandra's face. She had neverheard of such an arrangement, but it was ideally suited to her purposes.

Cunning, quickness of mind, and magical aptitude werethe qualities she needed. If the human passed those tests, she could teach himwhat he needed to know. That his mind could be searched at some later time, andits store of magical knowledge plundered for her own use, was a bonus.

The drow quickly removed three small items from thebag at her waist and showed them to the watchful human. Slowly, she movedthrough the gestures and spoke the words of a simple spell. In response to hercasting, a small globe of darkness settled over one of the candles, completelyblotting out its light.

Xandra handed an identical set of spell components tothe human.

"Now you," she commanded.

The red-clad wizard obviously understood what wasexpected of him. Pride and anger darkened his face, but only for a moment-thelure of an unlearned spell proved too strong for him to resist. Slowly, withpainstaking care, he mirrored Xandra's gestures and mimicked her words. Thesecond candle flickered, then dimmed. Its flame was still faintly visiblethrough the gray fog surrounding it.

"The human shows promise," the Shobalarwizard admitted. It was unusual for any wizard to reproduce a spell-evenimperfectly-without having seen and studied the magical symbols. "Hispronunciation is deplorable, though, and will continue to hamper his progress.You wouldn't by chance have a wizard in stock who can speak Drowic? Or evenUndercommon? Such would be easier to train."

Hadrogh bowed deeply and hurried out of sight. Amoment later he returned, alone, but with one hand held palm-up andoutstretched so that Xandra could see he had another solution to suggest. Thefaint light of the fog-shrouded candle glimmered on the two tiny silver earringsin his hand, each in the form of a half-circle.

"To translate speech," the merchantexplained. "One pierces the ear, so that he might understand, the otherhis mouth, so that he might be understood. May I demonstrate?"

When Xandra nodded, the merchant lifted his empty handand snapped his fingers twice.

Two half-orc guards hastened to his side. They seizedthe human wizard and held him fast while Hadrogh pressed the rings' tiny metalspikes through the man's earlobe and the left side of his upper lip. The humangave off a string of Drowic curses, predications so colorful and virulent that,astonishment and fear darkening his gray-skinned face, Hadrogh fell back astep.

Xandra laughed delightedly.

"How much?" she demanded.

The merchant named an enormous price, hastening toassure Xandra that the figure named included the magical collar and rings. Thedrow wizard rapidly estimated the cost of those items, added the potentialworth of the spells she would steal from the human, and threw in the death ofLiriel Baenre.

"A bargain," Xandra said with darksatisfaction.

Tresk Mulander paced the floor of his cell, histrailing scarlet robes whispering behind him. It had not been easy, persuadingthe mistress to provide him with the bright silk garments, but he was a RedWizard and so he would remain, however far he might be from his native Thay.

Nearly two years had passed since Mulander had firstencountered Xandra Shobalar and begun his strange apprenticeship. Though he hadnot once left the large chamber carved from solid rock, vented only by tinyopenings in the ceiling well above his reach, he had not been badly treated.He had food and wine in plenty, whatever comforts he required, and, mostimportantly, an intense and thorough education in the magic of the Underdark.It was an opportunity that many of his peers would have seized without a qualm,and in truth, Mulander did not entirely regret his fate.

The Red Wizard was a necromancer, a powerful member ofthe Researcher faction-that group of wizards who sought ever stronger and morefearsome magic. Mulander was somewhat of an oddity among his peers, for he wasone of a very few high-ranking wizards whose blood was not solely that of theruling Mulan race.

His father's father had been Rashemi, and his inheritancefrom his grandsire was a thick, muscled body and a luxuriant crop of facialhair. From his wizard mother had come his talent and ambition, as well as theheight and the sallow complexion that were considered marks of nobility inThay.

Mulander's cold, gemlike green eyes and narrow scimitarnose lent him a terrifying aspect, and though he conformed to custom and affectedbaldness, he was rather vain of the thick, long gray beard that set him apartfrom the nearly hairless Mulan. In all, he was an imposing man, who carried hissixty winters with ease upon his broad, proud shoulders. He was strong of body,mind, and magic. The passing years had only served to thin his graying hair,which he regretted not at all, for it made the daily task of shaving his pateless onerous.

Mistress Shobalar had indulged him in that as well,providing him with incredibly keen-edged shaving gear and a halfling servant todo the honors. Indeed, the drow female seemed fascinated by the tattoos thatcovered Mulander's head. As well she should have been: each mark was a magicalrune that, when activated with the appropriate spell, could transform bits ofdead matter into fearsome magical servants. Provide him with a corpse, and hewould produce an army. Or could, were he able to access his necromanticmagic.

Mulander grimaced and slipped a finger under the goldcollar that encircled his neck-and imprisoned his Art.

"In time, you will be permitted to removethat," said a cool voice behind him.

The Red Wizard jolted, then turned to face XandraShobalar. Even after two years, her sudden arrivals unnerved him, as they wereno doubt intended to do.

But that day the implied promise in the drow's wordsbanished his usual resentment.

"When?"

"In time," Xandra repeated. She strolledover to a deep chair and, in a leisurely fashion, seated herself. Two years wasnot a long time in the life of a drow, but she was obviously well aware of thehuman's impatience, and she intended to enjoy it.

* * * * *

Enjoyable, too, was the murderous rage, barely contained,in the Red Wizard's eyes.

Xandra entertained herself with fantasies of seeingthat wrath unleashed upon her Baenre fosterling. At last, the long-anticipatedday was nearly at hand.

"You have learned well," Xandra began."Soon you will have a chance to test your newfound skills. Succeed, andthe reward will be great."

The drow plucked a tiny golden key from her bodice andheld it high. She cocked her head to one side and sent the Red Wizard a cold,taunting smile. Mulander's eyes widened with realization, then gleamed with anemotion that went far beyond greed. His intense, hungry gaze followed the keyas Xandra slowly lowered it and tucked it back into its intimate hiding place.

"I see that you understand what this is. Wouldyou like to know what you must do to earn it?" she asked.

A shudder of revulsion shimmered down the Red Wizard'sspine. Xandra's smile widened and grew mocking.

"Not this time, dear Mulander," she purred."I have another sort of adventure in mind for you."

She quickly described the rite of the Blooding, theritual hunt that each young dark elf was required to undergo before beingaccounted a true drow. Mulander listened with growing dismay.