servants attend to her wardrobe, save to carry her trunks into the room. Naglatha wanted no one to touch the things closest to her body. After a moment's consideration, she pulled out a fresh tunic and pants, made from the finest spun linen and as light as a feather. While the weather of Selgaunt had still been a trifle blustery and cool, it all changed predictably when she had crossed back over into Thay. One of the reasons the country remained so fertile and kept the local granaries fat and close to bursting was the machinations of the Red Wizards. Working in tandem was the biggest problem Naglatha could see them suffer from, but they had united long enough to spin a delicate web of spells that let the mild rains fall during the night, and kept the days warm but not uncomfortable. Perfect conditions for farming and pleasant for most day-to-day activities, she mused.
Neighboring Thesk paid for Thay's comfort with tempestuous turns in their own weather, but this did not concern the Red Wizards overly much; Thesk's climate was not their problem.
Naglatha dressed carefully, keeping her colors bland and her jewelry to a bare minimum. She could not shake the feeling that something important was going to occur today, and she did not want to call attention to herself. She wanted to blend in and observe, as she was so good at doing in Selgaunt.
When she was properly attired and coiffed, a process that took nearly an hour, Naglatha called for her two bodyguards. Silently, the men entered, and she could tell immediately that they had bathed and changed their garments per her orders. They knew better than to ignore her demands. But she preferred not to acknowledge that.
'I thought I made myself quite clear earlier,' she cast a pointed glare at Heraclos, 'that I wanted you to be clean.' He looked down at his thin cotton trousers, tunic and robe for any stain or smudges and-finding neither that nor a garment askew-then looked back at her.
Naglatha enjoyed playing with him. She sauntered over and was even more pleased when he took a slight step back at her approach. She raised her hand to his cheeks and traced the path of his newest injury. She pulled her finger back and held it in front of his face. The pad of her index finger was red, and a single ruby drop dangled there. Naglatha brought it to her lips and licked her finger clean.
'Please do better next time,' she warned him with a wicked smile.
'Yes, mistress,' he replied and lowered his eyes.
'Now then,' she addressed them both, eager to leave. 'We cannot spend all day lounging about. Have you scouted out the locations I told you to?'
'Yes, lady,' Milos replied. 'A few of the taverns have changed hands since we were last here. I don't think the Weeping Slave will have what you are searching for as its clientele have run decidedly downhill,' he added. He turned to Heraclos, and Naglatha could see that Milos was giving him a chance to gain back some favor in his mistress's eyes. Naglatha was always surprised with Milos' desire to grant second chances. She was certain that quality would be the end of him one day, and she dreaded having to break in yet another replacement.
'He is correct, Madame,' Heraclos added, sounding eager to redeem himself. 'That place caters to the lowest sort, mostly drunks and cripples, and they would be of no use. I think you would be well advised to check both Laeril's Arms and The Black Unicorn.'
'Really?' she drawled. 'And why is that?'
'It seems that Tbarchion Nymia Focar has raised the price of her little venture, and it's attracting sturdier, more adventurous types into Thay,' he finished, seemingly pleased to have that bit of information to give her.
Naglatha was silent for a moment. She was well aware that the tharchions from here, Surthay, Gauros and Thazalhar had believed that there might exist a secret passage-buried somewhere in the nearby mountains-that led to the Endless Wastes beyond. Most thought it was only a foolish dream; not even a legend. Obviously, if such a passage did exist, trade might be diverted from the Golden Way, and whoever held that information would be powerful indeed. But Naglatha thought they had abandoned the search. If Nymia Focar was offering another reward, then she must have discovered a new piece of information. The woman loved the clink of coins and hated to part with them unless absolutely necessary or unless there was a sure thing. Naglatha decided this would bear watching, but also felt that the influx of outsiders here in Pyrados was most fortuitous. One more bit of information that Naglatha took as a favorable sign.
'Well then,' she told her servants, 'I'm suddenly very thirsty. Let's be on our way.'
As she motioned to the eunuchs and followed them out, Naglatha felt her pulse quicken.
Today is the day, she thought to herself, more certain than ever.
Later That Afternoon
1 azi sipped at her ale. As was her habit, she had managed to secure a table toward the back of the tavern. The strategy afforded her two things: a certain amount of privacy and the ability to observe almost everyone else in the room. It was something she picked up from the man she could only think of as her mentor; there was no other word to describe him adequately. She had learned many lessons in her life and most had come atsa cost. However, Tazi valued all of them. For only having lived twenty-four years, she had already paid a high price for her life.
Located on the outskirts of Pyrados, the tavern catered mostly to outsiders like her. Tazi, who had secured a room upstairs after her return from the Sunrise Mountains, had spent little time in Thay proper and was now eager to return home. When she arrived in the country, she only lingered in the city long enough to obtain the appropriate permits for her foray into the mountains. Tazi hadn't wanted to pay, but she had received information from a reliable source that her trip would go that much smoother if she played by the rules. She had grudgingly handed over a fee that was practically thievery in itself for the authorization. But Tazi had passed through the garrison stationed in the foothills of the Sunrise Mountains with little trouble once she showed them her officially endorsed traveling permit.
'Coin always smoothes the way,' her father had liked to say. Sometimes he had been right.
Since returning, Tazi had packed away her woolen mountaineering clothes for more familiar ones. Upon entering Pyrados, the mild temperatures made her other attire heavy, itchy and unnecessary. She now sported snug black pants with a matching vest, and boots laced up to her calves-all made from the finest leathers. Her hair hung loose, brushing her shoulders. She left her arms bare but wore short gloves and an armband that had her favorite lock pick secreted inside. From a wealthy family, Tazi only dressed like this in the seediest quarters around Selgaunt. Where she found herself now fit that bill adequately. Surreptitiously peering over the rim of her mug, Tazi scanned the room and its patrons.
Laeril's Arms, as the tavern was named, had a motley crew of customers. Though Tazi had studied only the bare necessities of Thay's customs and history, she definitely got the sense that Thayans didn't tolerate foreigners very much or for very long. The Tharchion of Pyrados, to Tazi's good fortune, didn't hold the same prejudices. Or if she did, Tazi surmised, gold helped her look past them, and that went for the store owners as well. Tazi had nearly screamed at the price she was quoted at a local shop to replace the coil of rope she had been forced to abandon on her most recent escapade. Coming from a city of trade, she was used to bartering, but that was not an option here. The shopkeepers knew they were the only game in town and happily fleeced everyone who needed to purchase supplies. She had paid the fee, hating to be without her usual equipment, but had muttered some choice oaths while she handed over the coin. The sallow-faced shop keeper simply smiled and took her gold. He had obviously heard worse.
To her left, two women were deep in discussion. By the light of the fat candle in the center of the table, Tazi saw that one was completely bald with an extensive range of tattoos along her skull and shoulders. The other, who had a thick crop of black hair, appeared to be much shorter than her companion, though it was hard to tell for certain while they were both seated. The one with the dark hair was dressed nearly as fine as the first, but Tazi could see that the bald woman regarded the other with a touch of disdain. Between them stood a young man and, judging by his slight build and stature, Tazi suspected that he had some el-ven blood in him. While most folk of Selgaunt despised elves, Tazi had always had a soft spot for them. Her father did too, as it turned out. A few months past, she had been shocked to discover she had a half sister who had elven blood in her veins. Life continued to throw surprises at her, but, as Tazi took another swig of her ale, most were less and less pleasant lately.
The bald woman finally tossed a small sack onto the table, toward the black-haired woman. Payment, Tazi deduced. It was only then that she noticed the elf had on a collar and a fine leash. The black-haired woman smiled to her customer and turned to the young man. She yanked so hard on his tether that she brought the elf crashing to his knees. Then she handed the leash over to the bald woman. Tazi watched, sickened, as the bald woman placed her foot upon his back and forced him to prostrate himself on the filthy tavern floor. The gaunt, bald woman
