Elminster in Myth Drannor - Ed Greenwood [12]
of gems. Surgath scrambled for it.
The hawk-nosed youth watched him feverishly raking rubies together and leaned forward to speak to the adventurer, in a soft whisper that carried to every corner of the taproom. "There's just one thing to beware of, good sir-and that's coming to look for more."
"Oh?" the man asked, as menacingly as before.
Elminster pointed at the coin-and suddenly it stirred, rising as a hissing serpent in the man's hand. With a curse the man hurled it away. It struck a wall with a metallic ring, dropped, and rolled away, a coin once more.
"They're cursed, ye see," Elminster said sweetly. "All of them. Stolen from a tomb, they were, and that awakened it. And without my magic to keep the curse under control…"
"Wait a bit," Surgath said, face darkening. "How do I know these rubies're real, hey?"
"You don't," Elminster told him. "Yet they are, and will remain rubies in the morning. Every morning after that, too. If you want the scepter back-I'll be in the room Rose has ready for me."
He gave them all a polite smile and went out, wondering how many folk, whether they wore serpent rings or not, would try to slay the spell image that would be the only thing sleeping in El's bed tonight, or turn the room inside out searching for a scepter that was not there. The turf-and-tile roof of the Herald's Horn would do well enough for the repose of the last prince of Athalantar.
Of all the eyes in that taproom that wonderingly watched the young man from Athalantar leave, one pair, in a far corner, harbored black, smoldering murder. They did not belong to the man who wore the serpent ring.
* * * * *
"A hundred rubies," Surgath said hoarsely, spilling a small red rain of glittering gems from one hand to the other. "And all of them real." He glanced up at the reassuring glow of the wards, smiled, and stirred his bowl full of rubies once more. It had cost him the same worth as two of these jewels to buy the wardstone, years ago-but it was worth every last copper tonight.
Still smiling, he never saw the wardstone flash once, as a silent spell turned its fiery defenses on its owner.
There was a muted roar, and then the prospector's skeleton toppled slowly sideways onto the bed. Surgath Ilder would grin forever now.
A few rubies, shattered by the heat, tinkled to the floor in blackened fragments. The eyes that watched them fall held a certain satisfaction-but still smoldered with murder yet to be done. Revenge could sometimes reach from beyond the grave.
After a moment, the owner of those eyes smiled, shrugged, and wove the spell that would bring a fistful of those rubies hence.
We must all die in the end-but why not die rich?
Two
Death And Gems
The passing of the Mage of Many Gems might have doomed the House of Alastrarra, had it not been for the sacrifice of a passing human. Many elves of the realm soon wished the man in question had sacrificed everything instead. Others point out that in more than one sense-he did.
Shalheira Talandren, High Elven
Bard of Summerstar
from Silver Blades And Summer Nights:
An Informal But True History of Cormanthor
published in The Year of the Harp
As he went on through the endless wood, the land began to rise again, sprouting crags and huge mossy overhangs of rock amid the ever-present trees. There was no trail to follow, but now that Elminster was past the line of mountains that marked the eastern boundary of the human realm of Cormyr, wherever south and east the trees rose tallest must be the right direction to head for Cormanthor. The hawk-nosed youth with the saddlebag on his shoulder walked steadily toward that unseen destination, knowing he must be getting close by now. The trees were older and larger, hung with vines and mosses. He'd long since left all traces of woodsmen's axes behind.
He'd been walking for days-months-but in a way he was glad brigand arrows had deprived him of his mount. Even in the lands claimed by the men of Cormyr, now behind him, the hills had been so trackless and heavily wooded that he'd have had to