Elminster in hell - Ed Greenwood [70]
"An alley near Piergeiron's Palace, in Waterdeep," Elminster explained as her hand went to the blades at her belt. "Laeral farspoke me."
"And?" she asked simply, putting hands on her hips and pivoting to look around.
"Time to use thy tracing spell, lass-take thyself to any Harper pin in this city that's been tampered with or had other spells laid atop it. There'll probably be a man there who's good with blades. Keep thyself alive until I teleport to thee." He kissed Storm while she was still blinking and frowning at him, then whirled away, striding along the uneven cobbles toward the palace.
Its grand and lofty entrances seemed strangely- deserted. The doors to the private wing, however, were closed and guarded by two huge men who stood like expressionless titans in their closed helms and mirror-bright armor.
The Old Mage strode up to them without hesitation and reached between them to lift the ring-bar from the doors-and almost lost a hand to the halberds sweeping down.
The point topping one followed him as he scuttled back. Its wielder's voice was less than kind as he said, "None may enter without leave."
Elminster sighed. "Leave I have, goodsirs. Pray stand aside for Elminster of Shadowdale. I am in great haste, and for good reason."
"Elminster?" The guard's voice dripped with the skeptical sneer hidden behind his helm. "Aye, and I'm the Grand Pasha and Vizier Most Mighty of all Calimshan!"
"Who are you, really," the other guard snapped, his own halberd leveled menacingly, "and who gave you leave to pass? Of those not known to us by sight, our pass-list is very short, and I very much doubt you're anyone on it!" He backed to where he could easily and swiftly slap an alarm-gong with one swing of his gauntlet. "Well?"
"I am Elminster in truth," the straggle-bearded man replied quietly, "and I have leave to pass anywhere in the city-leave given to me by Lord Ahghairon of Waterdeep, long ago."
"Pah!" the first guard responded, throwing back his head. "You expect us to believe that?"
"I care not what you do or do not believe," the old man told them mildly, "but if you delay me longer, know this: I'll send you forthwith to where you'll end up anyway, if you retain the stupidity to deny an archmage anything."
The first guard drew himself up in triumph. "You would dare to threaten a Guard Confirmed of Waterdeep, in the very palace? Why-"
He thrust ruthlessly with his halberd at the old man- and the world suddenly changed.
Elsewhere, in dusty near-darkness, the two guards found themselves blinking at each other over their halberds, and then, slowly, trembling in fear.
They both knew very well where they were: the trophy hall that gave entrance to the Hall of Heroes, the warriors' tomb in Waterdeep's City of the Dead.
Elminster strode straight through lofty halls, anger and magic crackling around him. He scattered guards and courtiers like so much dust. As chamber gave way to chamber, the guards he faced were older. Not a few of them recognized him and stood aside with salutes. "Piergeiron," he snapped at the first pair of them not to do so. They swiftly opened the doors they were flanking and waved him in.
"No, Lord, I cannot," Laeral was saying firmly. "There are too many enchantments hereabouts, layer upon layer, hundreds of them, and many old and forgotten. If I could but touch him, I could put a tracer on him that few mages could break, but-"
Heads turned as Elminster joined the small, tense group of folk. They gathered by a lone lamp, within a watchful ring of silent Tower apprentices. Laeral, Mirt, Piergeiron, and Durnan nodded to him.
Asper bowed her head and murmured, "Lord Elminster, be welcome."
At her words, Aleena and Duman's wife and daughter stared at Elminster as if he'd suddenly grown several heads, each of them spitting flame.
"I may have a solution to that," the Old Mage told them, "but we must move swiftly; Storm is our bait, and stands in peril. All who would see battle and this affair done, gather around