03 Red Magic by Forgotten Realms

Author:Forgotten Realms [Realms, Forgotten]
Format: epub
Published: 2010-04-10T14:43:45.571000+00:00

The travelers and their slaves selected a spot on the edge of the tent town where they could talk freely and weren't likely to be invited by their neighbors to share in any festivities. Wynter used crude hand signals, indicating the dwarves should sit. They refused, of course.

When he merely shrugged and ignored them, the dwarves finally sat, looking defiant. Brenna edged forward cautiously and began working the knots loose from about their waists. She held her breath; the slaves hadn't bathed in a long while. When she had finished untying them, she backed away, put her hands on her hips, and inspected them.

"If we take them to Aglarond, I can get them cleaned up and give them a few gold pieces," she said.

"If we make it back to Aglarond," Wynter added, surprised the dwarves weren't bolting.

"We've more things to worry about than the dwarves," Galvin said as he stretched out on the ground. Brenna lay down a few feet away from the druid and watched him.

"I'm just glad I was able to buy a few slaves their freedom," Wynter said softly, not wanting any nearby campers to hear. He vividly described the condition of the pens to Galvin, then waited for a response, but the druid had had enough conversation for the day and pretended to sleep. Eight Nine

Asp clung to the shadows outside Maligor's tower. The nearby gnoll guards paid her little attention, knowing it was healthier not to question the spirit naga about her business.

She rested back on her snake's lower body, leaning her shoulders against the cool, smooth stone wall and twitching the end of her tail through the dewy grass. In her pale, slender hands, she cradled a large weasel. Asp ran her fingers through its silky fur and hissed softly to the creature. The weasel seemed to enjoy the attention and lay still for the naga's caresses.

"Maligor will be proud of me," she hissed in a barely audible tone. "I've watched him closely. I, too, can create darkenbeasts."

The naga slithered farther along the wall, away from the guards and toward the rear of the tower. Setting the weasel down amid a thick clump of grass, she scratched its neck and lay on her belly to watch it sniff a patch of clover. Then, reaching in her pouch for the powders she had "borrowed" from Maligor, the snake-woman sprinkled them on the weasel's back and began mumbling the words she had heard Maligor recite.

She kept her voice soft, not wanting to draw the attention of the guards or any slaves who might be milling about. The weasel's nose began to quiver, finally sensing danger. The moment it started to bolt, Asp's tail shot through the grass like a striking cobra and fastened itself about the animal's back legs to hold it in place.

The frightened weasel tried to squirm free, but the naga persisted with the spell. By the time Asp had finished with the words, the creature had begun the horrid metamorphosis.

The weasel shed its hair as its skin bubbled and oozed.

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