Red Magic - Jean Rabe [74]
Outside, the street was coated in thick, gray shadows; there were fewer people about now, and they walked near the buildings and congregated under the corner lamplights. A small throng was gathered about Wynter, laughing.
Brenna and Galvin hurried over to see the centaur struggling to remain on his feet. The dwarves had encircled him, their ropes twisted about his legs. One of the stocky little men was beating on the centaur's flank. The druid was angry that the onlookers had done nothing to help Wynter.
Forgetting how a slave should act, Galvin thrust the plate of beef into Brenna's hands and rushed forward, elbowing his way through to the centaur. Grasping the closest dwarf, Galvin picked him up and shook him, then carried him around Wynter until the rope was untangled. Setting the stocky man down on the street, the druid picked up a second and did the same thing, then a third.
The small crowd began to laugh again, and the druid glanced up to see that the first dwarf he had tended to was wrapping the rope about the centaur's legs again. Wynter looked at Galvin forlornly and tried to sidestep the rope. This action only resulted in his becoming entangled with another rope leash.
The beef was cold by the time Galvin had untangled all the dwarves and warned them to behave. Grabbing their leashes from the centaur, he began herding the uncooperative slaves down the street like untrained dogs. Wynter ate hungrily as he followed, Brenna at his side.
As they neared the north gate, the druid related what he had learned.
"It looks like Maligor is preparing for some kind of war. His target appears to be another wizard."
"Then he's not after Aglarond?" Brenna asked, sounding relieved.
"Or any other neighboring country," Wynter added. "Still, we're here. Let's poke around a little more tomorrow to be certain. Rumors aren't facts, and any information will be valuable to the Harpers."
"From what I gathered," Wynter continued, "Maligor is one of the most powerful wizards in Thay. He's got to be close to two hundred years old, and no one is expecting him to die anytime soon."
"The man I listened to said Maligor has been amassing an army of gnolls. Rumor has it that he has several hundred camped northwest of Amruthar." Galvin lowered his voice. "By the way, his tower is at the west edge of the city. I suspect it's that massive building we passed just before the gates."
The druid began to walk faster, tugging the dwarves behind him. When he was within fifty feet of the gate, the dwarves began to mumble among themselves and suddenly sat down on the ground, almost in unison. Galvin yanked and pulled on their rope leashes, but he couldn't budge them.
"Damn, Wynter," the druid cursed. "Why did you saddle us with these dwarves? We really don't need this problem right now." He tugged again, and the dwarves glowered at him.
As Brenna padded up quickly to help, the largest of the dwarves reached out an arm, caught her by an ankle, and pulled until she fell to the dirt road.
Fuming, Brenna scooted away from the slaves and began to brush the dirt from her dress furiously.
"Wynter!" she shouted.
The centaur wisely kept his distance from the dwarves, noting that the incident had drawn the attention of the guards at the gate. He glanced at Galvin and Brenna and shrugged.
"The slaver said I might have a few problems with them," he said softly. "They weren't very expensive."
Galvin grabbed the ends of the rope, turned, faced the gate, and pumped his legs, pulling like a draft horse. Huffing with the effort, he eventually found himself moving forward slowly, pulling the struggling dwarves.
On the barbicon above, the guards laughed and opened the gate. Galvin and the dwarves, followed by Brenna and Wynter, emerged through the gate into a tent town. The ragtag community consisted of about six dozen tents of various construction; some were large and made of stout canvas, others were merely large blankets thrown over a cord tied between two posts. Some people,