Elminster in Myth Drannor - Ed Greenwood [113]
"How far may we go, should things come to open spell battle in these 'troubles'?" Holone asked quietly.
"Oh, they will, spellsister, they assuredly will," the Srinshee replied. "You must all feel free to do what you feel needful; blast any foe at will, to death and beyond. Hesitate not to strike out at any Cormanthan whose intent you are sure of, who works against the Coronal or the creation of a mythal. The future of our realm is at stake; no price is too high to pay."
Heads were nodding in somber silence, all round the circle. The Coronal chose that moment to snore; the Srinshee regarded him affectionately as the six sorceresses smiled and rose.
"Hasten!" she bid them, eyes shining. "You are the guardians of Cormanthor, and its future. Go forth, and win victory!"
"Queen of Spells," Sylmae intoned in a male-sounding roar, striking her chest, "we go!"
This was evidently some sort of quotation; there was a general ripple of mirth, and then the six sorceresses were on the move in a graceful swirling of long hair and robes and longer legs. El cast a brief, sad glance at the Srinshee, who still could not hear his loudest cry of her name, and followed the one called Bhuraelea, making careful note of the face and form of Mladris, in case keeping silent escort to her became necessary instead.
As it happened, the two tall, slender sorceresses kept together, striding down a palace corridor with the haste of a storm wind. "Should we eat something, do you think?" Bhuraelea asked her fellow mage, as they stepped out past the last palace ward-field and turned themselves invisible. El, hovering close by, was relieved to see that they remained clearly visible to him, though their bodies now seemed outlined with a bluish gleam, like strong winter starlight reflected off snow.
"I brought some food earlier," Mladris replied. "I'll summon it before we enter his first ward." She wrinkled her nose. "Wait until you see his tower; some old males embrace the idea of Tiome as dump' rather too wholeheartedly."
* * * * *
The two sorceresses were passing a jack of mint water and a cold grouse pie back and forth as they slipped through the glowing wards that surrounded the rather ramshackle tower of Mythanthar the mage. Starfall Turret resembled a long, grassy barrow-hill, pierced along one side with windows, and rising at its north end into a squat, rough-walled stone tower. Its yard was an overgrown tangle of stumps, fallen trees, and forest shrubs and creepers. In the dusk, they looked like a dark chaos of giants' fingers stabbing the darkening sky.
"Ye gods and heroes," Bhuraelea murmured. "Defending this against stealthy foes would take an army."
"That's us," Mladris agreed cheerfully, and then added, "Thank the gods, our foes aren't likely to be any too stealthy. They're more apt to try to crush the wards with realm-shaking spells, and then follow up with more."
"Three wards… no, four. That'll take a lot of blasting," Bhuraelea observed, as they finished the pie and licked their fingers. A light flared briefly in one of the high windows of the tower.
"He's at it already," Mladris said.
Bhuraelea grimaced. "He's probably been 'at it' since he stepped out of the Chamber of the Court," she replied. "The Lady Oluevaera told me he's apt to be more than a bit single-minded. We could dance nude around him and sing courting songs in his ear, she said, and he'd probably murmur that it was nice to have such energetic young things around, and could we please fetch yon powders for him?"
"Gods," Mladris said feelingly, rolling her eyes, "grant that I never get old enough to be like that."
Out of the empty air very close by a cold voice said smugly, "Granted."
An instant later, Faerun exploded into many leaping lightnings, bright arcs that raced hungrily through the air to stab through the gasping, staggering sorceresses and snarl onward. Mladris and Bhuraelea were snatched off their daintily booted feet