Red Magic - Jean Rabe [55]
The centaur explained that many men permanently tattooed their heads so they wouldn't have to bother about changing designs. But many of the women went to shops to have their heads painted, preferring to have different symbols from time to time as fashions changed.
The centaur trotted over to Brenna, carrying a shovelful of smashed blue and red berries. Brenna's lower lip quivered, but she stood still.
"We'll give you a dainty little barbed whip cascading over your forehead like a spray of flowers," Wynter said as he smeared his fingers into the mixture and applied it to her head. "The whip's the symbol of Loviatar, the Maiden of Pain, one of the regularly worshiped deities here." Before the centaur finished, he added a lightning bolt with a ball on one end above her right ear. "That's the Harpers' symbol for 'dangerous magic here,' " he explained.
Brenna changed into a dark orchid dress with voluminous sleeves and a rounded, lace-edged neckline. She looked striking in it, even with her bald head, and added a crystal and gold necklace to make herself fit the image of a wealthy Thayvian.
"Well, this is it for my wardrobe," she said with a touch of disappointment in her voice. "I've ruined everything else."
Wynter pushed open the barn door, which teetered precariously on one rusted hinge. The countryside appeared different by daylight. The orchards in the distance yielded the faintest fragrance of citrus blossoms. The sky was as blue as the Sea of Fallen Stars, and it stretched, cloudless, from horizon to horizon. A dirt road that had been sprinkled liberally with white gravel cut through the grass and pointed toward the east. Weeping birch and crimson maples lined the road.
Galvin had expected the countryside to look bleak and the trees twisted like Thay's evil rulers. Instead, he found it quite pleasant. He glanced at the small clump of trees behind the barn and shuddered, remembering the attack of the undead. Deciding to put some distance between this place and himself, the druid padded toward the road, with Brenna and Wynter following.
The druid could tell that the road was well traveled. Most of the gravel had been washed to the sides by the rain, and carriage and wagon tracks made deep impressions in places.
"Are you certain this leads into Amruthar?" Galvin asked Wynter.
The centaur pursed his lips. "I hope so. Elwin talked about a road before he fell asleep last night. It's the only one I see."
Galvin turned to Brenna. "If we're stopped, Wynter's the chief foreman on a slave plantation your father owns, and he's going to Amruthar to buy slaves. You're traveling with him so you can shop. I'm your slave-on hand to carry any packages."
"If I'm wealthy, why am I walking?" she challenged.
"You were on horseback," Wynter stated, "but the horses were stolen by thieves."
Brenna beamed. "Fine. I'm just looking forward to being in a city again, even if it is in Thay."
Wynter glanced at the druid. "You'll enjoy this, too, won't you, Galvin?"
The druid rolled his eyes, drew his lips tightly together, and continued ambling down the road.
Seven
The lich sat hunched over a centuries-old rosewood desk cluttered with bones of fingers, vials half-filled with assorted dark-colored powders, and yellowed scrolls curling at the corners and covered with runes and scratchings. He peered at the markings with his deep-socketed, ancient eyes and slowly scanned them.
The lich was very old. His pale, paper-thin skin was stretched across his face and limbs, making him appear gaunt, almost skeletal. Fine wisps of white hair were scattered atop his age-spotted head, and his lower lip hung loose, as if it had no muscles to control it. Despite his appearance, the lich was not infirm.
The lich was Szass Tam, the most formidable Red Wizard in Thay.
Across the far edge of the desk, almost beyond the reach of his bony hands, stood five thin