Crown of Fire - Ed Greenwood [50]
The old sage's eyes twinkled merrily as he gravely replied, "Aye. Of course." He turned then, took her hand gently, and kissed it.
Illistyl shred at him, astonished. His mustache rasped across her knuckles like a bristle-brush for a moment, and she found herself staring into very blue, very keen old eyes. She shivered involuntarily;
Elminster's gaze made her feel quite naked, and more than a little ashamed. It seemed that he saw into the very depths and corners of her being, parting all the shadowy curtains of old jealousies, regrets, and small deceits. And yet his voice, when it came, was both tender and approving.
"I must go, little one," he said. "I foresee a need to face the archwizards of the Zhentarim before longand with the spells and monstrous assistance they employ in battles, I've no wish to be anywhere near Shadowdale when the fray begins. Forget not what Jhessail and I have taught thee, and follow thy good sense, and all will be well in the ending of it. Thy good reason is more important than all the power ye will ever wield."
As he released her hand, Illistyl shivered again, closed her eyes briefly as if gathering her strength, and then snorted at him, eyes flashing open. "A lot my good reason will do if Zhentil Keep's soldiers march down that road there!"
Elminster clucked, reprovingly. "Manshoon has other worries, girl, worse than ye know. Myself, for instance. He needs his armies-or thinks he does, and that's all the same to us-to face other foes." He patted her hand. "Abide here and keep the dale safe. Lhaeo will serve thee in need. Mystra shield thee."
"And comfort thee," she replied formally, and added, "mind you return speedily, Old Mage. You will be needed -and missed."
"Many have said so," he said over his shoulder as he swept down the stairs, "over the years. And when I was not there, the will of the gods unfolded anyway."
Illistyl shook her head in amused silence, followed him down one flight of steps, and then crossed to a gallery with a window over the meadow.
Below, Storm Silverhand sat calmly upon a magnificent black horse and held the reins of a smaller, fatter dapplegray for Elminster. Her alert eyes saw Mistyl arrive at the window, and she waved.
Illistyl leaned out and called, "Bring him back soon, good lady. And don't let him talk your ears off."
The bard smiled back at her as they both heard Elminster's voice reply, "And why not? Listening does the young good, and makes the patience of the old supple. Besides, my tongue rests more often than it once did."
"Truly?" Illistyl called from the safety of her window. "By the gods, you must have been an endless cataract of nonsense in your youth."
The old sage clambered ungracefully into the saddle, patted the gray reassuringly, and made no answer.
The flourishes of his hands as he lit. his pipe, however, were eloquent.
He nodded to Storm without looking up, blew a smoke ring in the direction of Illistyl's window, and set off at a trot. Storm followed, raising her hand to Illistyl in salute.
The youngest mage of the knights watched them ride until they were out of sight. Then she sighed and went down to join Mourngrym and Shaerl. She held dark fears about the days ahead.
"Not so long, now," Mirt said. "I never thought I could grow tired of the sight o' trees. Stop me vitals, but this clambering about is hard on old legs!" 'fell me truth, do," Delg answered sarcastically, sitting down hard on a nearby fallen tree with a sharp whuff of released breath. "Where, by Marthammor Finder-ofTrails," the dwarf asked as the others took seats around him, "are we going… if you don't mind my asking?"
"I don't mind in the least, friend Delg," Mirt said grandly and grinned. "I don't know."
Delg's head came up like that of a dog, bristling to strike at a suddenly seen enemy. "You don't know?"
"He says that a lot, doesn't he?" Narm said to Shandril in the silence that followed.
Shandril was too apprehensive to reply. She had been looking constantly here and there into the trees around for signs of the Zhents who must be following