"Jean Rabe - The Harpers 03 - Red Magic" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rabe Jean)

owned by TSR, Inc. RPGA is a service mark owned by TSR, Inc.

First printing: December, 1991
Printed in the United States of America.
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 90-71502

987654321
ISBN: 1-56076-118-0
TSR, Inc. TSR Ltd.
P.O. Box 756 120 Church End, Cherry Hinton
Lake Geneva, Cambridge CB1 3LB
WI 53147 U.S.A. United Kingdom
 To Bruce,
for his patience and encouragement.

And to the RPGAтДв Network,
an organization not unlike the Harpers.
 One
The crimson-draped figure paced in the damp, circular chamber, his well-rehearsed path carrying him
through the darkness shrouding the smooth stone wall and to an ancient bronze incense burner. He bent
over the antique from Moonshae to permit the acrid vapors to spiral upward from the basin's scented coals
into the shadowed recesses of his hood. He drew the smoky gray tendrils deep into his lungs while the haze
from the burner and the room's lone, fat-soaked torch danced around his flowing robes.
Maligor's garb was similar to that worn by all of the Red Wizards of ThayтАФdark red, the color of blood
oozing from a deep, fresh wound. The robe's many folds concealed his form; the sleeves hung several
inches below the tips of his thin, pale fingers, and the hood obscured his gaunt, wrinkled face. The
embroidered hem, which draped on the polished mosaic floor, swirled wildly about his slippered feet as he
concluded his meditation and strode to the narrow window to gaze out over Amruthar.
The dying rays of the sun stained the city's cobblestone streets a glowing vermilion. Maligor's impressive
tower rose just beyond the western edge of Amruthar, its shadow pointing like a lance to the closing gate.
The location offered the Red Wizard a superior view of the major business district and the two-story inn
where most of his informants operated.
Amruthar conferred an impression of quiet this early evening; only a few citizens roamed the streets in
the section visible to Maligor. However, appearances in Thay, he knew, were nearly always deceptive. The
alleys and shadowed walkways were alive with cutpurses and burglars just starting their evil agendas.
Schemers bloomed and profited when the sky grew dark, and peddlers who proffered commodities too illicit
to pass off during the day even in Faerun's most wicked country.
Most of the commonfolk were huddled inside their homes, protecting their mundane existences from the
city's deviate nature. Maligor could smell the coal smoke rising sluggishly from the stone chimneys as they
prepared their meager dinners. For a moment, the Red Wizard wondered what lavish feast his slaves would
be baking for himтАФa fast that would have to be discarded, as he was too busy this evening for pleasantries.
Maligor glanced past the spacious open-air market. The crude wooden stalls were being ritualistically
boarded up for the evening to prevent vagrants from sleeping inside, the unsold goods packed onto wagons
to be trekked home because the merchants feared to leave them here, wisely trusting no one. The morning
would bring a different view, a vibrant, welcoming, bustling scene to delight the senses. The market would
be crowded with retailers hawking all manner of exotic fruits, fresh vegetables, homespun and imported
cloth, and shiny trinkets to catch the eyes of women with gold jingling in their bulging purses.
Likely there would be a slave dealer or two, despite the merchant guild's mandate that slaves must be
sold in the stockyards so that the sellers would have to pay taxes on their illicit goods. Some of the best
deals could be made purchasing flesh in the open-air market, though, because the sellers needed to move