Джейн Рэйб - Red Magic

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.