The Crimson Gold

by Voronica Whitney-Robinson

  “Blooded Ones,” she explained. Tazi looked at her quizzically and Naglatha laughed. “We have much here in Thay you never knew existed, don’t we? It’s too bad we don’t have more time. The things I could show you. But I digress. What you are looking at there is probably one of the finest fighting forces you will ever live to see.

  “Some time ago,” the Red Wizard continued, and Tazi could hear the pride in her words, “our finest minds turned their research toward the creation of an ultimate warrior. And instead of trying to create something from nothing and wasting energy and effort, they looked to see how they could improve upon creatures that already existed. So they turned to orcs, who have many desirable qualities, but had proven to be unruly and untrustworthy at crucial moments.

  “They refined a process where the orc young were treated in an alchemical bath of almost poisonous blood. After they emerged from the treatment, they were stronger, more pliable, and more willing to obey commands. What you see before you is only the first steps. Now that this method has proved fruitful, other species will be experimented upon next.”

  “Are there barracks of these monsters all over the Thaymount?” Tazi asked and couldn’t imagine that many creatures in one relatively small area.

  “No,” Naglatha told her. “These creations are fairly expensive. Most of the other zulkirs and tharchions only have hordes of darkenbeasts, gnolls, and other, less-unusual forces around the Thaymount. The longer Szass Tam keeps us buying and selling, though, the more bored we grow. So,” she told the amazed Tazi, “we play with things in our liberal free time.”

  Tazi looked at the troops and tried to picture thousands of these creatures nestled like pockets of vipers around the Thaymount. The image that it painted was overwhelming. What would happen if these Red Wizards ever did try to occupy the lands of their neighbors, or Faerûn for that matter, Tazi pondered, and why don’t they?

  “Milos,” Naglatha shouted suddenly, “pull up to that orchard ahead.”

  While Tazi tried to make sense of what she had seen, Milos halted the carriage next to a small grove of orange trees, well tended, with nearly overripe fruit hanging like tumors from their branches.

  “Get out,” she ordered everyone. “We’re nearly there,” she told Tazi as they dismounted in unison. “It will be our last chance to speak somewhat freely before entering the Citadel, and I would not miss that opportunity.” She pointed to the dwarf and ordered her guards to watch him as well as water the griffon. Naglatha motioned to Tazi, and the two women hopped the low fence and entered the orchard.

  “Won’t someone get angry?” Tazi asked sarcastically as she watched Naglatha help herself to a ripe fruit. The woman laughed and leaned against the tree as she started to peel the thick skin of the orange.

  “Not likely,” she chuckled. “You see, these trees belong to Pyras Autorian, and I have never met a more useless—”

  “Watch out!” Tazi shouted.

  From behind the tree, a soldier suddenly appeared with sword drawn. But as Tazi got a better look, she realized that it was no ordinary man. Its skin had a grayish cast to it and a leathery quality that no living being possessed. While its gait wasn’t shambling, it lacked the fluid movements of the living. Its equipment was rusted, its clothes tattered.

  “Zombie!” she yelled and grabbed Naglatha by the arm, yanking her clear just as the undead creature slashed at where the Red Wizard had been reclining. Suddenly, four more appeared from different areas of the orchard and began silently closing in on the women.

  “To me!” Naglatha cried, but no one came. Tazi turned her head toward the carriage and saw that the dwarf and the guards had their hands full as several armed zombies cut them off. The griffon, Karst, reared up against his tether at the approach of the undead.

  “Use your powers and do something,” Tazi yelled to the Wizard, who appeared dazed.

  “These are juju zombies,” she explained in a low voice full of dread. “My magic is useless against them.” And she shrunk behind Tazi.

  One of the undead charged Tazi with a longstaff held at chest height. When it was nearly upon her, she kicked out at its solar plexus. The zombie bent over slightly and extended its arms forward from the force of her blow but made no sound. Tazi swung up the same leg and kicked the staff from its hands straight into the air. She caught the rod in the center with her right hand and, as the creature tried to charge her again, she bent sideways at the waist and caught the zombie with a final kick to the throat. It flew back several feet and didn’t rise again.

  No longer weaponless, Tazi swung the staff, which she held against her right arm, in an arc to her left and back to her right to give herself a little breathing room. She carried the staff like an extension of her arm, moving toward a larger clearing in the orchard in an attempt to draw the zombies away from Naglatha, who was proving worthless in the battle. The woman simply frowned and pressed both her hands against her temples but did nothing else. Tazi twirled the staff so that it was parallel to her body and let it slip through her fingers until it touched the ground. She struck a cocky pose and hoped to draw the creatures toward her.

  “Come on,” she baited them.

  Perhaps sensing she would be more fun than the other woman, the remaining four closed in around her silently. With an evil grin on its face, one soldier drew its sword and charged Tazi. Swinging its weapon straight down toward her head with both rotted hands, the zombie came within inches of striking her. But Tazi swung the staff up with both hands somewhat at an angle and blocked the monster’s blow. Simultaneously, while the monster’s arms were still high in the air, she kicked it in the midsection, and the creature fell backward.

  She turned her head and shoulders in time to block another’s attack as it swung a cudgel at her back. She pivoted first and blocked the blow with the staff and continued to twist the rod, so that it struck the creature in the head. The very end of her weapon caught the zombie in the jaw and, as its head turned to one side, its lower jaw broke free with a ripping sound and flew across the orchard.

  Tazi turned in time to see the remaining two rush her simultaneously. She threw the staff up with her arms to block them, stopped their sword blows, and pushed them back with the staff. She turned her weapon parallel to her body again and planted it in the fertile soil with a solid thud. Certain that it was anchored, Tazi grabbed the staff and turned sideways, using her momentum and the support of the staff to vault herself off of the ground. She kicked her legs in opposite directions and caught each zombie with one of them. She continued her swing, landed on her feet, and pulled the staff free with both her hands. She swung the weapon in an arc again and surveyed the ground to see who was next.

  As suddenly as the attack began, it stopped. The juju zombies that were not completely incapacitated rose to their feet and stood at attention. Tazi turned with a wondering look at Naglatha, but the Red Wizard shook her head in denial. Likewise, the servants and Justikar also looked surprised as their battle had been paused for them as well. Beside Naglatha, the air shimmered.

  About the size of a full length mirror, a pool of radiance appeared, and a shape started to coalesce in the center. Tazi, breathing hard, her weapon still in hand, watched in fascinated interest as a man’s face and shoulders became clearer. He appeared to be in his forties and had piercing black eyes. With just a touch of gray at the temples of his black mane, Tazi thought he was very vigorous looking and found something about him oddly attractive. Judging by the sour expression on Naglatha’s face, Tazi realized the two were not unfamiliar to each other.

  “Ah,” began the image in the pool, “Naglatha. I am so glad you were able to get a message through to me just now.” The image looked at the battered zombie soldiers and Tazi could hear a ‘tsk’ sound escape the man’s lips. “Luckily, I was able to stop my garrison before any harm could befall you.”

  “I am most grateful, Zulkir,” Naglatha addressed him respectfully, but Tazi could see it irked the wizard to do so.

 
“I am sorry for the confusion,” the image continued, “but I did not expect any of my guests to be robbing my orchards.” A slow smile played about his lips, and Tazi realized that this could only be Szass Tam, the man Naglatha wanted to destroy. She tried to study him as best she could.

  “Well, don’t you mean Pyras Autorian’s orchards? These are still his lands, aren’t they?” Naglatha asked, and Tazi could see the calculating gleam in her eyes.

  “Yes, yes,” the necromancer dismissed, “his orchards.”

  “Well,” Naglatha told the image, “no harm’s done.”

  “No,” Szass Tam agreed. “This matter is best forgotten. Considering how close you are, I will make sure that quarters for you, your servants, and your pet are waiting.” Without warning, the image faded away.

  Tazi kept a cautious eye on the zombies, but they lined up and filed away in the direction from which they had appeared. She tossed the staff to the ground and walked over to Naglatha. The wizard had her eyes closed and her brow furrowed. Tazi stood before her and waited until she opened them again.

  “Well?” she asked Naglatha.

  “I was making sure that no one was watching us any longer,” she explained. “He is no longer scrying us.”

  “Szass Tam?” Tazi asked

  “Yes,” Naglatha nodded. “You handled yourself well,” she acknowledged to Tazi.

  “Not a scratch,” Tazi replied.

  “That incident was no accident, though,” Naglatha deduced. “I wonder how many others attending the council might meet with misfortune before this is all said and done.”

  “Right this way,” the elegantly dressed servant said as she led Naglatha down an elaborately carved corridor toward the other visiting dignitaries.

  “Please make sure that my servants are treated accordingly for my rank,” she said as she gave Tazi a parting wink. She and Justikar stood in the hall and waited for one of the other servants to assist them. It only took a few moments for a young girl, not nearly as richly decorated as the first, to appear. She smiled easily enough, and Tazi thought she was new and her probationary job was to assist the servants of the lich’s guests. Not many of them were likely to complain if their bedcovers weren’t turned down, so it was not a critical assignment.

  “This way,” she directed them in a high voice.

  She took Tazi and Justikar down a narrow but well-lit passageway. There were several doorways open along the corridor, and Tazi could see humans that must have been the trusted servants of the important and wealthy guests of Szass Tam. They looked a bit confused in the large, well-furnished rooms with nothing to do. Tazi saw one young man who simply sat on a huge bed and stared straight at the wall in front of him, totally lost. She shook her head sadly and kept walking.

  At the end of the passageway, the servant pointed to a room on the left. “I hope this will be satisfactory. We did not have any other rooms left, so I am afraid you and your companion must stay together.” And the girl lowered her gaze. Tazi suspected she was almost embarrassed that the two of them, being of opposite sex, had to share quarters.

  “It will be fine,” she told the girl.

  “You are welcome to maneuver through this corridor and you have access to a few of the work spaces along the next set of passageways. But that is all,” she warned them.

  “And how will we know when we’ve reached our boundaries?” Tazi asked.

  The plump girl lost her timid smile. “Oh,” she said gravely, “you’ll know.” She bowed and left them alone.

  Tazi stepped into the room and was surprised at how well it was furnished, considering it was being used to house slaves. She figured that these wizards went out of their way to outshine each other, so some of the opulence had to spill over to the servants’ quarters. While the girl who had led them to their room had been dressed well enough, Tazi wagered she didn’t have a chamber nearly as fine as this one. Tazi padded over to one of the large beds and sank down gratefully with a huge sigh. She looked tiredly at the dwarf and could see he was furious.

  “What?” she asked him, but her heart was not in it, and she was in no mood for a verbal fencing match.

  “Is this worth it?” he demanded. “Is your crimson gold worth all the misery that this adventure of yours is going to cause? Will you be satisfied only when everything crumbles around you?”

  Tazi jumped to her feet and prowled around the stylish furnishings. She was tired and sore and didn’t want to fight with the duergar on top of everything else. But, most importantly, his words had struck a nerve. What had started out as a simple enough undertaking had rapidly turned on her, and Tazi didn’t know for sure what she had mired herself into and what the final cost was going to be. She eventually returned to the bed and sat on the end of it. She rested her elbows on her knees and laced her fingers together.

  “I don’t know,” she answered quietly. “Maybe you can tell me.”

  The dwarf appeared surprised by her response, perhaps because he expected more bravado from her. He searched the room until he found a stool the right size, and he pulled it up to her, but not too close.

  “Why are you doing this?” he asked again, but in a softer tone, as he sat down.

  Tazi looked at the dwarf and pursed her lips for a few moments, weighing things in her mind. Finally, she started, “When I was very young, I took it upon myself to learn how to steal. Why I did it is none of your business, nor do I think you’d even care,” she said. “But I did. And the easiest place for me to start was in my home.”

  Tazi got up and moved around again. “I lived in a big house,” she explained, “with lots of rooms. There were my parents and my two brothers and more than a handful of servants, so there was a lot for me to choose from.

  “Mostly, I would take little trinkets from my mother or brothers. For a while, no one suspected me. After all,” she paused to glance at the dwarf with a sideways grin, “I was just a little girl. And, as we always had some help coming or going, the servants took the brunt of the blame.”

  “You mean your slaves took the blame,” Justikar corrected her.

  Tazi winced at the implied accusation. “No,” she said vehemently, “we did not own those people. They could come and go as they wanted. My family simply hired them to perform household duties for us. They always had a choice.”

  “Were there other jobs some of them could’ve taken instead of cleaning up after you? Did they have a vast skill set that allowed them to pick and choose their lot in life? Do you think they all had a real choice, Thazienne Uskevren?” Justikar asked her.

  His accusations did not sit easily with Tazi. “Did you want to hear my reasons or not?” she snapped, irritated that there wasn’t a single window to look out of and avoid the duergar’s shrewd gaze.

  “Go on,” he told her.

  “The servants took the blame,” she continued, “but I always managed to get the various baubles back to their rightful owners eventually. All right,” Tazi admitted as she sat on the bed again, “returning the things took a bit of convincing by a trusted family … friend,” she tripped over the word. “He taught me more than a few lessons.

  “The last thing I planned to steal belonged to my father. I had pilfered something from everyone else and considered an item of my father’s to be my crowning glory. He is—was,” she corrected herself self-consciously and lowered her eyes, “a very powerful man. Sometimes I used to think he was cold to me, but now, I suspect he was simply afraid to show me how he felt about me.

  “He was a great collector of the beautiful and the unusual. Most of the things he treasured were fairly large pieces of artwork, and I was a bit daunted by how I might hide a painting or some such,” she told the dwarf. “I snuck into his study and started to look around and see what I might be able to lift. As I prowled around the room I had only been invited into on a few occasions at that point, something glowed softly from his desk and caught my attention.” Tazi became somewhat lost in her memory and did not notice how closely the due
rgar watched her face.

  “I crept over, careful not to disturb anything, and saw this odd lump of metal no bigger than my fist. It sat, carefully nestled in a chamois cloth on his big desk, amidst stacks of papers and quills. I had never seen anything like it before. As far as I knew, it was a piece of gold, but I had never seen gold that red before.” Tazi paused to tug at her lower lip as though she was contemplating the theft right then and there.

  “Whatever kind of gold it was,” she told Justikar, “it was perfect for my plans. I pocketed the treasure and was gone like a shot. My father was livid when he discovered the crimson gold was gone,” she ducked her shoulders and smiled sheepishly. “I had never seen him so furious before. He went on and on about how hard it had been to obtain and what he was going to do with the thief when he got his hands on him.…” she trailed away, lost in thought.

  “So,” Justikar asked, “what did your father do when he found out it was you?”

  “He never found out, as far as I know,” she replied. “My older brother discovered I had the stuff, and he played a ‘prank’ on me. After it was over, my left arm was broken, and my father’s gold was lost forever. I was never able to return it to him.

  “That was years ago,” Tazi added after a long pause. “And now my father is dead, much too soon. There were things I still wanted to tell him, but that opportunity is gone now.” Tazi chewed her lower lip, unaware that her eyes were brimming with unshed tears. She jumped up and walked over to a painting and appeared to study it.

  “The house was too quiet, and my mother was desolate for a while after his death. When she was unhappy, I was all right as if somehow I could mourn my father through her. But a few tendays ago, I saw her smile again. I knew it was time for her to start to put away her grief. But that’s when I became somewhat lost,” she said softly.

  “I didn’t know how to let him go, I realized. And it came to me. I could bring back the only thing I ever stole from him, the only thing I ever ruined between us as an offering. I could say good-bye finally. That was what was worth coming to this forsaken place for and still is.…” her voice trailed away. She rubbed at her face and turned back to the dwarf.