Elminster in Myth Drannor - Ed Greenwood [110]
"Three senior lords," her Ihimbraskar told her, "Haladavar, Urddusk and that serpent Malgath, came to Court and demanded that the Coronal reconsider the Opening. They wore stormswords, and threatened to use them."
"And do they yet live?" Duilya asked dryly.
"They do. Eltargrim chose to view their weapons as 'errors in judgment.'"
Duilya snorted. "The enemy amrathor gasped out blood as my error of judgment took him through the vitals," she declaimed grandly, waving a hand. Her lord chuckled.
"Wait, love, there's more," he told her, rolling over. She shrugged at him to continue; her hair slid down over her shoulder and fell free.
Ihimbraskar watched her tresses spread and swing back and forth as he continued, "The Coronal said their concerns were valid, had his Lady Herald scare us all with tales of the battle-might of humans, and said the Opening will go ahead eventually: after the city is cloaked in a huge spellmantle!"
Duilya frowned. "What, old crazed Mythanthar's 'mythal' again? What good will that be, if the realm is open to all?"
"Aye, Mythanthar, and it'll give us control over what these nonelven intruders do, and what magic they work, and what they can hide, by the sounds of it," her lord said.
Duilya drifted closer, and as she reached out to stroke his chest, she added softly, "Elves too, my lord- elves too!"
Lord Evendusk started to shake his head dismissively, then froze, looking very thoughtful, and said in a small voice, "Duilya-however have I kept myself from utter stupidity, all these years I ignored you? Spells can be crafted to work only on creatures of certain races, and to ignore others… but will they be? What a weapon in the hand of whoever is Coronal!"
"It seems to me, my lord," Duilya said as she rolled over to rest the side of her face against his and fix him with a very solemn eye, "that we'd better work as hard as we can to see that Eltargrim is still our Coronal, and not one of these ambitious ardavanshee-in particular, not one of the oh-so-noble sons of our three highest houses. They may consider humans and the like no better than snakes and ground-slugs, but they look upon the rest of us elven Cormanthans as no better than cattle. The Opening will make them scared for the security of their lofty positions, and so, ruthlessly desperate in their acts."
"Why aren't you a court advisor?" Ihimbraskar sighed.
Duilya rolled over atop him and said sweetly, "I am. I advise the court through you."
Lord Evendusk groaned. "Too true. You make me sound like some sort of lackey you send off into danger every day, to put forth your views."
The Lady Duilya Evendusk smiled and said nothing. Their eyes met, and held steady. There was a twinkle in her eyes as she continued to say nothing.
A slow smile crooked Ihimbraskar's usually hard mouth. "Corellon praise you and damn you, Lady,' he said, in the breath before he started to laugh helplessly.
Fifteen
A Mythal, Maybe
It came to pass that Elminster was slain by the elves, or nearly so, and by the grace of Mystra drifted about Cor-manthor in the shape of a ghost or phantom, powerless and unseen-akin, some have said, to the lot of scullery maids in service to a highborn lady. Like such wenches, woe would likely befall the last prince ofAthalantar if he were to come to the notice of the mighty. The master sorcerers of the elves were powerful in those days, and faster to make war and cast forth reckless magics. They saw the world around them, and all humans in it, as rebellious playthings to be tamed often, swiftly, and harshly. Among certain of the elven, that thinking has changed but little to this day.
Antarn the Sage
from The High History of Faeriinian Archmages Mighty
published circa The Year of the Staff
Symrustar was naked, her face a dark mask of dried blood. She stared out of the shadow cast by her overhanging hair, seeing neither Elminster nor anything