Red Magic - Jean Rabe [100]
"Szass Tam is involved in this?"
"No, not really. He's just interested. He's been watching the gnolls, and I led him to believe the gnolls were going after someone's land. I think I recall offering him half if he didn't interfere."
"Then if I am not to lead the gnolls, what do you intend for me?" she hissed softly.
"You will play a role," he stated evenly, still watching his troops.
"And if I choose not to?" she posed nervously.
"You have no choice-at least not if you wish to live and have any power in Thay. I need you, Asp, and I don't want to kill you, because in a way I am fond of you. But if you won't help me willingly, I can find a magical way to force your cooperation. Then when my plan is finished, I will have to eliminate you."
"Of course," she agreed. The spirit naga knew Maligor couldn't afford to release someone who had been in his confidence for several years. "It seems I have no choice. I will help you. But I do not have to like it. Or you."
The Red Wizard moved away from the windows, drew the curtains closed, and strode to a stiff-backed, carved wooden chair. He unceremoniously sat in it; his younger body didn't require being pampered by soft cushions. Asp slinked to his side like a petulant child.
"It will be glorious, beautiful Asp. My plan is golden." He straightened himself, placing his shoulders squarely against the chair back. "Do you know much about the tharchions in Thay? Their influence, positions, appearances?"
"I know about some of them, Maligor-from reputation and pictures only. I am more knowledgeable about the other Red Wizards and their forces."
Maligor noticed that the naga had dropped the "my lord" when she addressed him. The lack of respect bothered him, and he would correct her attitude later. For the time being, he would let her be, knowing she had lost enough pride and dignity for one day.
"There is one tharchion in particular to concern ourselves with. He is nearly forty and squat, but he has a broad and sturdy frame. His body fits his place of work. The tharchion has a husky, barrel-like chest. Although he is clean-shaven on his head and face, wisps of black hair can be seen under his arms and just above his breastbone." Maligor's description was detailed and precise.
"Despite the tharchion's high position in Thay, he chooses to paint his head, like many of the women in Amruthar and Eltabar, rather than suffer permanent tattoos. The principal design on his head is a pale orange, four-taloned hand."
"The symbol of Malar, the Beastlord," Asp interjected.
"He wears other symbols, too," Maligor added, "but I'm afraid he was sweating rather profusely, afraid of my gnolls and of being in my dungeon. Unfortunately the paint ran and I couldn't make them out."
"You have a tharchion in your dungeon?" The naga was astonished. She was keen on Thayvian politics and goings-on, far more knowledgeable than she would admit to Maligor. But she hadn't heard of any tharchion disappearing.
"Had. When I was finished with him, the gnolls ate him. His bones are scattered along the escarpment. So, no, I don't have a tharchion in my dungeons. Now, to continue with my description.
"His clothes were well made and in good repair, but they were dirty, covered with dust and powdered rock from walking about in the mines."
"The tharchion the Council of Zulkirs assigned to oversee Thay's gold mines! You killed him?"
"I need you to look like him." Maligor waited a moment to let Asp absorb everything. "In fact, I need you to look just like him-close enough that you could fool his wife, the slaves under his charge, and the mine workers. I know you have the ability to do that."
Asp glared at him. "There's been no news of the tharchion's disappearance. Someone has to know."
"I don't think so," Maligor continued, pleased with himself. "You see, the council