Free Red Magic by Jean Rabe

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 replied. Gazing up at the centaur’s angular face, she frowned. “It’s a way to watch people through crystal balls and other devices.”
    Wynter still looked puzzled.
    “You can’t see who’s watching you, but sometimes you can tell you’re being watched.” Brenna scratched at the back of her neck. “But only sometimes. More often than not, you’d never have a clue that someone was spying on you.”
    “How did you know just now?” the centaur asked uncertainly.
    Brenna could tell he only half believed her. “Goosebumps,” she answered simply. “I felt an odd sensation, and I had the definite feeling someone was watching us.”
    “And now?”
    “The presence is gone,” Brenna stated.
    “Good,” Wynter said, feeling more relaxed.
    “Only good to a point,” the sorceress countered. “Whoever or whatever was watching us probably knows we’re going to Thay.”
    The centaur scowled and trotted toward Galvin.
     

     
    The Red Wizard continued his circuit of the tub, convinced now that the woman was a power to be reckoned with. Maligor was furious; he had little time to devote to the mysterious enchantress. He had his own goals—and his own personal army—to contend with.
    Maligor knew he couldn’t attempt to scry on her again, at least not for a while. He’d have to wait several hours until he regained enough magical energies. Needing to take his mind off the red-haired woman, he decided to check on his forces—forces that only he knew about.
    Even Asp remained oblivious to Maligor’s secret army. Although the spirit naga was the only being in whom he placed any semblance of trust, he nevertheless limited her knowledge. He would tell her of this other army only when the timing was right.
    It is time to check on my soldiers, he reflected, pleased with himself about what awaited in the basement. He sauntered from the chamber as erect as his aged back and the liqueur allowed and motioned the