'One for him,' Nollo said as he pointed to Craster lying in a wagon, 'and two for him!' He pointed to McDodd.
Beccard was too disoriented to ask questions, but Nollo smiled as he explained, 'One each for a look, and one extra for him.'
Nollo pointed back to McDodd.
Beccard asked the obvious: 'Why one extra, Nollo?'
'Because, Pap! He's wyrm-touched!'
THE BOOK DRAGON
Mid Hammer, the Year of Wild Magic (1372 DR)
The Red Wizard Nusair Darkul peered into the crystal globe before him. The visage of his master, Nevron, the Zulkir of Conjuration, stared back. The zulkir's ironlike face held a sneer that was old, angry, and as powerful from far away as it was in person. Nusair gulped down the knot in his throat that always seemed to accompany his late night meetings with the powerful conjurer. The zulkir had little use for the Guild of Foreign Trade, where he had assigned Nusair. In Nusair's opinion, it was an office designed for little more than to spy on Samas Kul, the guild's ambitious master. Nevron usually showed his contempt with short-tempered ' tirades at Nusair. But that night, the zulkir paid close attention to what Nusair had to say. Nevron's angry voice boomed out from the globe, 'What news have you of this discovery?'
'The Scalamagdrion lies closer to us than you might think, Master-merely across the Alamber, in Mulhorand,' Nusair responded, keeping his tone as respectful as possible to head off any potential rant by the zulkir.
He had tracked the powerful book from its discovery in Myth Drannor, two hundred years past, all the way to where it had come to rest: in a collector's home, deep in the capital of Thay's long-time enemy, Mulhorand. Nusair's contacts within the enclaves had located and tracked the artifact. In some small way he regretted letting the zulkir in on the discovery. But the opportunity to ingratiate himself to Nevron was too great a thing to resist. His recovery of The Scalamagdrion could mean the difference between wasting away as a mid-level bureaucrat in the guild for the rest of his life, and earning the favor of Nevron, one of the seven most powerful Red Wizards in Thay.
'Samas Kul?' the zulkir asked, no doubt wondering if Nusair had shared his secret with the hated guildmaster.
'He knows nothing,' Nusair reassured his true master. If Samas Kul knew to whom Nusair truly answered, he wasn't sure if even Nevron could protect him.
'It would be foolish to waste such powerful summoning magic on that accursed guild. I, of course, could think of numerous alternative uses,' Nevron said. His face twisted into that maniacal sneer once again.
'Of course, Lord Nevron,' Nusair agreed. No doubt those alternative uses had something to do with the zulkir's rivals and their allies, Nusair thought-perhaps even Samas Kul himself. The tome and its magic would make a terrible weapon, indeed. Who needs an assassin, if a dragon will do the work instead? 'I'll not disappoint you, Master!' Nusair added.
'Surely you won't,' Nevron said in a threatening tone. His eyes smoldered as he watched his servant through the glass.
'The consequences for you would be most unpleasant. Are we clear?'
Shaking, Nuisair leaned over the orb. 'Crystal clear, Master' he said.
It was popular knowledge that Nevron had summoned monstrosities from the underworld that he could command at will. Nusair wanted no part of an angry pit fiend.
With that thought, the powerful zulkir faded from view, his sneer still pasted across his face, and burned into Nusair's mind.
After the disturbing meeting with the master conjurer, Nusair hurried to his library. Despite Nevron's demands, Nusair would not be able to recover The Scalamagdrion on his own. Samas Kul watched him like a hawk, and expected to see him in Bezantur, minding his duties at the guild. Instead, Nusair would send his lead apprentice, Saura Umakra. The Rashemi wizard was ruthless. More importantly, she was someone he could control. And that was critical for what Nusair had in mind.
Finally, after all the years of licking Samas Kul's boots, Nusair could almost breathe the fresh air offered only by power!
Saura Umakra waited impatiently, staring through tall, arched windows at the Alamber Sea, all but black in the muted moonlight, thrashing at the rocks below. Winter's winds raced across the water, carrying with them what little natural moisture would come to Thay's arid coastal plain. Meager rains would soon fall to wash red slides of mud into Umberlee's emerald locker. The land was ever changing, she thought. Nothing stays the same, she assured herself. Nothing.
The wind whistled as it squeezed through tiny cracks in the windows of Darkul Tower. Behind her, the warmth of a raging fire heated her back while the coldness emanating through the window reddened her cheeks. The land was roasting hot in the summer and seemed equally frigid when winter's kiss was upon the barren plain. Saura pulled her cloak tighter, attempting to stave off the chill.
Nusair's library was easily the largest room in the tower and furnished in a comfortable, if dark, manner. Tapestries the color of a crimson drake, stretched down from the high ceiling, covering most of the walls in an attempt to imprison the warmth and deny the cold a foothold. Where there was no tapestry, shelf upon shelf of leather bound books lined the walls, like red bricks bound in gold. A rug of the same color as the tapestries languished on the stone floor. Comfortable chairs, upholstered in soft leather, were placed near the stone hearth and a heavy, wooden table, carved in intricate designs of twisting dragons sat like a draconic sarcophagus in the center of the room. Upon the table were several old books, half-rolled scrolls, and candles. The tiny flames flickered and wavered in drafts that slipped through the room's windows, their light lost in the blaze of the fireplace.
The large door that marked the room's only entrance swung open, drawing Saura's attention from the scene outside. In the doorway stood the master of the tower. On his face, Nusair wore a toothy smile.
Saura looked upon her mentor with thinly disguised scorn. Nusair was a handsome man to be sure. He was tall and thin, like many Mulan men, but he was strong, unlike so many purveyors of the Art who become soft with a lifetime of study. His shaved head, heavily adorned with twisting tattoos of magical script, glinted in the firelight. He wore red robes of the finest Shou Lung silk that ended just before the floor, giving the tiniest hint of soft black shoes beneath. He carried himself, Saura reckoned, with all the arrogance of an elf king, but possessed none of the substance.
For too long, Saura had stood in his shadow and shared his bed, waiting for him to reward her with robes of red. To Saura's way of thinking, the Red Wizard's contempt for her Rashemi heritage was all that stood between her and the blasted robes. Unfortunately for her however, she would have to do his bidding to get the robes she coveted. So, she had swallowed her pride for five long years. Saura didn't know how much longer she could bare it. But retribution would come swiftly, when finally it came.
'I have awaited your arrival, as you commanded,' she said and knelt before her master.
'You have,' he agreed before waving her to stand up. 'And you'll not be sorry for it.'
'As you say, Master.' She forced a smile.
Nusair stepped forward and touched her face softly, running his manicured fingers down across her cheek. The dragon's claw tattoo that encircled her left eye suddenly flared with an angry twitch, as it always did when he touched her. She sneered inwardly and swallowed the rising bile brought on by his touch.
'I have finally succeeded where all others have failed,' he said.
He turned from her and faced the fire, letting his hand fall away to his side. Nusair was not a man of normal desires, even for a Red Wizard. Saura knew the man's obsessions better than anyone else. She was painfully familiar with his odd preferences beneath the silken sheets in his boudoir, his taste for bitter duergar ale, and his obsession for all things Draconic. The wizard's compulsive lust for ancient artifacts and his well-financed expeditions to recover them were common knowledge among Red Wizards, and often the center of jokes among them as well.
