Джейн Рэйб - Red Magic

“Go to … the underworld!” Willeth spat.

The gnolls moved to strike the tharchion, but Maligor held them back with a glance. The Red Wizard mumbled something Willeth could not understand. It was magic, the tharchion knew, as Maligor’s hands began to glow, radiating a soft, pink haze that stretched in rays from his fingers to Willeth’s eyes.

“You will beat me to the underworld, tharchion,” Maligor said, his voice a singsong chant that mesmerized Willeth. “But before you go, you will be my friend. My closest, dearest friend. Friends share secrets, Willeth. I am your very best friend, and you will share all of your secrets with me. Tell me about the mine, friend Willeth. I want to visit the mine. And since I’m your friend, you wouldn’t want me to get hurt there, would you? Tell me about the defenses—where the magical traps and spells are placed. I mustn’t get hurt, friend Willeth.”

The tharchion’s eyes glazed over, and the pupils became small and fixed. “My friend,” he croaked. “Can’t let… my friend be hurt… when he comes to visit me in the mines. Be careful, friend, the mines … are very dangerous if you do not know where to walk.”

Then the words began to pour from Willeth’s bleeding lips, detailed summaries of the spells and creatures that protected the mine, facts about the number of guards and their weapons, and descriptions of the foremen who directed the slaves and other workers. Deep in his mind the tharchion screamed, rebelling against what he was helpless to stop. But still the words continued to pour forth, and part of Willeth was happy. It was such a good thing to help a dear comrade.

“I need to know more, friend,” Maligor purred. “You know so much about the mines, and I’m so very proud of you for that. No one knows more about the mines than you do. Tell me how much gold is mined each day. Where are the strongest veins? Only you can tell me these things, my friend. Only you know so much.”

Willeth babbled on, reciting production figures, quality of the veins, the expected life of various tunnels, and the names of the foremen who shared some of that information. Maligor memorized everything the tharchion said, filing the statistics away for later use.

Then Willeth divulged something unexpected. The tharchion wanted to please his friend, and he hoped this tidbit would make Maligor particularly happy.

“Today,” Willeth began, his voice showing as much enthusiasm as his dying body would permit, “a foreman took a slave force … to the deepest part of a tunnel that we thought was mined out. The force … was to close the tunnel, but then the strangest … and most wonderful thing happened. A portion of the mines collapsed. A dozen slaves were … killed in the process, but we had used .. . the most expendable slaves for the task. And when the dust cleared … a cavern was revealed. It was an underground cave, and the walls glistened. See the gold powder on my clothes? It came from there. We found a new vein. .. bigger than any previously discovered. I was saving the information, friend. I was … going to tell the council about it when I returned from Tantras… with a request to buy equipment. I thought… the wizards … would let me buy new mining equipment then.”

Willeth sobbed and more blood rushed from his mouth before he continued. “I’m not… going to be able to tell them now, I know I’m dying. Could you … tell them, friend?”

“Of course,” Maligor lied. “Friends always help each other. But I have one other thing to ask you, my very best friend.” He motioned for the gnolls to unchain Willeth and ease him to the floor. Maligor reached into a deep pocket of his robe and drew out a rolled-up piece of beige parchment and a hunk of charcoal.

“Please, friend, draw a map of your mine. Only you could draw such a thing. Don’t forget to include that new cave. And please hurry.”

Willeth fell to the task. The Red Wizard moved the lantern closer to provide better light. The map was crude, as the tharchion’s hand shook terribly, and the parchment became spotted with blood. It took Willeth several minutes to complete the rough drawing. Then, before Maligor could take it away from him, Willeth added X’s to indicate traps and magical defenses.

“You’ve done very well, my friend,” Maligor said in soothing tones that relaxed Willeth. “This is a fine map. It will help me to find my way about in your wonderful mines.”

Willeth coughed, and Maligor noted a flowering splotch of blood on the tharchion’s chest. The man looked up at the wizard with a pained expression on his face.

“The pain … Help me … please.”

“Of course, friend,” Maligor said. He reached down and grabbed the map and the lantern, then stepped to the doorway. He turned to address the two gnolls.

“Are you hungry? Eat him.”

Moments later, Maligor paced in the hallway, waiting for his gnolls to finish. The Red Wizard was satisfied. If other zulkirs tried to contact Willeth while he was supposedly in Tantras or became suspicious of the Willeth Lionson who would address the council in two weeks, nothing would be learned. It was possible to contact the dead or locate bodies through special enchantments. Szass Tam knew such spells and likely would try to employ them if the new Willeth Lionson did not meet with his acceptance and the lich guessed the true Willeth was dead.

But it will soon be impossible for those necromantic enchantments to yield any valuable information, Maligor mused. The Red Wizard knew the necessary spells required a body—or at least a significant portion of one—and he had no intention of leaving behind enough remains to fuel such spells.

The council will have no choice but to accept the new Willeth, Maligor concluded. And the new Willeth will be cloaked with enough protective spells to pass any cursory inspections.

The crude stomping of the gnolls leaving the cell disturbed Maligor’s musings. The sated guards grinned at him.

The Red Wizard ordered the gnolls to gather Willeth’s bones, clothes, and boots into a canvas sack. These were seasoned guards and knew enough to comply with Maligor’s orders with alacrity. But they were not without curiosity.

“Gnoll troops,” one of them began, addressing the Red Wizard but showing enough respect not to meet Maligor’s gaze. “Gnoll troops practice but not fight? Not fight for mines?”

Maligor’s eyes narrowed. He had erred in keeping two of his best guards in this cell. Slaves were easy to replace, and he had plenty of gnolls, but gnolls weren’t easy to educate for special tasks such as guard work. Now he would have to order at least two more trained; these two had just become expendable.

“Gnolls not good enough?” the curious guard pressed, shaking the bag containing Willeth’s remains. “Gnolls good warriors. Gnolls could fight for mines. Gnolls brave fighters.”

“Of course they are,” Maligor said unctiously, “and you are the bravest among them. That is why I selected you as my personal tower guards.”

“Then why do gnolls train?” The gnoll was too inquisitive and obviously wouldn’t stop the questions until Maligor supplied some answers. This gnoll had been with the wizard several years and did not fear retribution for a few simple and direct questions.

“The gnoll forces will fight,” Maligor replied. “I just haven’t decided what. You see, the other Red Wizards will be watching the gnoll army. And they’ll keep their eyes on the gnolls wherever they march. That army is very important, and may well have to fight armies the other wizards send against it. But while that army is marching, another army, a very different army, will go to the mines. The Red Wizards won’t be expecting that and probably won’t notice. They must not notice. So you see, my dear friends, my very best friends, the gnoll army is very important indeed.”