Realms of the Underdark - J. Robert King [67]
Mistress Shobalar had indulged him in this, as well, providing him with incredibly keen-edged shaving gear and a halfling servant to do the honors. Indeed, the drow female seemed fascinated by the tattoos that covered Mulander's head. As well she should be: each mark was a magical rune that, when activated with the appropriate spell, could transform bits of dead matter into fearsome magical servants. Provide him with a corpse, and he would produce an army. Or could, were he able to access his necromantic magic!
Mulander grimaced and slipped a finger under the gold collar that encircled his neck-and imprisoned his Art.
"In time, you will be permitted to remove that," said a cool voice behind him.
The Red Wizard jolted, then turned to face Xandra Shobalar. Even after two years, her sudden arrivals unnerved him-as they were no doubt intended to do.
But today the implied promise in the drow's words banished his usual resentment.
"When?"
"In time," Xandra repeated. She strolled over to a deep chair and, in a leisurely fashion, seated herself. Two years was not a long time in the life of a drow, but she was well aware of the human'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 seeing that wrath unleashed upon her Baenre fosterling.
At last, the long-anticipated day was nearly at hand.
"You have learned well," the Mistress began. "Soon you will have a chance to test your newfound skills. Succeed, and the reward will be great."
The drow plucked a tiny golden key from her bodice and held 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 an emotion that went far beyond greed. His intense, hungry gaze followed the key as Xandra slowly lowered it and tucked it back into its intimate hiding place.
"I see that you understand what this is. Would you like to know what you must do to earn it?" she asked coyly.
A shudder of revulsion shimmered down the Red Wizard's spine. He fervently hoped that his flowing robes hid his instinctive-and potentially fatal- response. He knew immediately that it had not; Xandra's smile widened and grew mocking.
"Not this time, dear Mulander," she purred. "I have another sort of adventure in mind for you."
The Mistress quickly described the rite of the Blooding, the ritual hunt that each young elf was required to undergo before being accounted a true drow. Mulander listened with growing dismay.
"And I am to be this prey," he said in a dazed tone.
Anger flashed in Xandra's eyes like crimson fire. "Do not be a fool! You must prevail! Would I have gone to such trouble and expense otherwise?"
"A spell battle," he muttered, beginning to understand. "You have been preparing me for a spell battle! And the spells you have taught me?"
"They represent all the offensive spells your young opponent knows, as well as the appropriate counter-spells." Xandra leaned forward, and her face was deadly serious. "You will not see me again. You will have a new tutor for perhaps thirty cycles of Narbondel. A battle wizard. He will work with you daily and instruct you in the tactics of drow warfare. Learn all he has to teach during the course of this session."
"For he will not live to give another lesson," Mulander reasoned.
Xandra smiled. "How astute. For a human, you possess a most promising streak of duplicity! But you are among drow, and you have much to learn about subtlety and treachery."
The wizard bristled. "We in Thay are no strangers to treachery! No wizard could survive