“You failed me,” he hissed in the Thayan variant of Mulorandi, his gravelly voice grated on Chathi even more than usual, but it was due to the subject not the sound. “I’m sorry, master,” she responded in the same language, turning away from the view of the Sea of Fallen Stars, one of the best in all of Lasdur, to face him. Aged and wizen, only the tattoos upon his bald head and deep blood red robe implied how powerful, and dangerous, he was… like her, a Red Wizard of Thay! “I do not tolerate incompetence… You know that,” he scolded with cold rage. “You have witnessed the price others have paid.” “Incompetence,” Chathi shot back with venomous rage. “I brought you two hundred slaves for the market, with no cost or effort from you! It was my doing… my work… my… sacrifice!” “You forget your place!” he scowled, his dark eyes afire with a fury that could burn her alive. “I am master here, and whatever… sacrifice... you made was your duty to serve me. Were it not for the slaves you managed to secure you would have been punished already.” Chathi seethed in rage, her mind afire with spells that could strike him dead where he stood… if he wasn’t who he was. She was a powerful wizard, but not his equal… not yet! So she drew in a deep breath to calm her-self, bit her tongue, looked down to the floor at his feet and accepted his admonishment. She had seen his punishments; they were cruel, twisted and terrifyingly painful! He dispensed them for even the slightest transgression, which left most of her peers little more than spineless toddies, too intimidated by the possibility of failure to ever achieve anything… but not her. He saw her gain control over herself and assume a submissive stance, knowing that in a future confrontation, perhaps one day soon, she would not back down and it would end with one of them standing over the smolder remains of the other… and he feared it would be her left standing. That was the way of the Red Wizards; the master reigns over the lives of his pupils, owning them, until either he releases them to serve as the zulkirs dictate or they win their freedom… usually with his death. Chathi was his best, most resourceful and most ambitious student, if any of them was to be his death, it would be her. In truth she had succeeded beyond his best hopes; enthralling a dragon, be it a young one, to serve her and seizing whole encampments of Aglarondans, using the forest’s magic against its inhabitance and even seducing a Master of the Yuirwood to her cause. Any operation run against the Yuir was bound to be short lived, but all it had cost was a few dozen orcs, and it had gained him a small fortune in gold. But he was not about to let her out from under his thumb, not when he could enjoy making her pay for her success as if she had failed. Not only was she his best, most capable student, she was a delectable beauty; young, nubile and his to command… at least for now. “Failure always has a price,” he sneered, his lecherous glare telling her just what price he would be demanding of her.