Red Magic - Jean Rabe [24]
Maligor could accomplish his goals without the aid of the snake-woman, he knew, but her presence would make certain things easier. His mind once again focused on the red-haired sorceress encountered by his darkenbeast.
Maligor stood, avoiding the slivers of glass, and steadied himself. He padded toward a sunken marble tub filled to the brim with water now grown tepid. Crouching unsteadily at its edge, the Red Wizard reached into a pocket of his robe and groped with his bony fingers. Rewarded, he withdrew a small clump of dried flower petals. Crushing them between his fingers, he dropped them into the water and concentrated, trying to remember every detail of the woman's face, every curl that cascaded over her forehead.
Ripples formed on the surface of the water, pushing the flower petals toward the edges of the tub. Then the water calmed, and in the center of the water's surface, the woman's visage appeared. Maligor strained his senses to hear her.
** * * *
"Wynter," Brenna intoned in a musical voice that nearly mesmerized the listening Maligor. "It's nearly dawn. Shouldn't we be leaving now?"
"We'll eat first, then start toward Thay," replied a deep voice. The Red Wizard could not identify the speaker. "Don't worry. We'll be inside that evil country soon enough."
Thay. Maligor's mind raced. Then the woman really could be a Red Wizard, an ambassador, perhaps, stationed in a neighboring land. Red Wizards were known to let their hair grow long when they mingled with others outside of Thay. It helped them fit in with many cultures and disguised their true heritage.
"I could use something to eat, too," the woman replied.
Maligor watched her slender hand rub her stomach through the cloth of an expensive dress. The woman's hand was bedecked with rings, marking her as a person of some wealth. The Red Wizard strained to see past her to get a hint of her surroundings, but the grayness of the day kept him from seeing very far. All Maligor could make out were the legs of a massive black war-horse behind her and tall grass everywhere. At least he knew the woman was outdoors, sitting on the ground probably, and not likely within the confines of a city. But he couldn't determine any real hint of her location.
"I'll help you pack up the tent," the deep voice continued.
"Thanks, Wynter," she replied in her melodic voice. Then her lips pursed and her delicate brows furrowed. The sorceress scratched at the back of her neck and then glanced about.
High in his tower, Maligor wondered what had caught the woman's attention. In another moment, he knew. The woman's eyes snapped open and she stared straight ahead. The Red Wizard saw her face plainly in the surface of the water. Her lips flew apart in a warning.
"Wynter, we're being watched! Someone's scrying on us!"
"Scrying?" the deep voice queried, obviously unaware of what the sorceress was talking about.
"I'll explain later," she said, her melodic voice becoming harsh and commanding.
Maligor watched as her intense eyes squeezed shut and she threw her hands over her ears. The Red Wizard heard her mumble something-magical words, he knew, but he was unfamiliar with them. An instant later, the water in the tub began to bubble, wiping out the image of the unnamed sorceress. Maligor bent closer to the surface of the water but saw nothing except the bottom of the tub and the crushed petals swirling about.
"Damn!" he swore, rising shakily to his feet. Maligor paced about the tub, still intent on the woman. "I must find her," he whispered. "I must know what she's up to."
*****
"What is scrying?" Wynter persisted. "I don't understand."
"It's a form of magic," Brenna