Elminster in Myth Drannor - Ed Greenwood [121]
El shrugged. Even if he learned who wore the mask, what then? Learning a face and a name meant little when you knew little or nothing of the character behind them. To a Cormanthan born and bred the identity of The Masked might well be a secret as valuable as it was deadly; to Elminster, it was simply something he didn't know yet.
He suspected his very unfamiliarity with the realm was his chief value to this elven mage, and he resolved to reveal as little as possible of his own true powers and nature, belittling even his experience with the kiira. Who was to say what an overwhelmed human mind could even comprehend of its stored memories, let alone retain after the gem was gone?
"Look into my eyes," The Masked commanded crisply. El looked up in time to see one long-fingered hand make an imperious gesture. There was a flash of light from all around, and a high singing sound, as the sphere burst into a sheet of golden sparks.
For an instant El felt as if he was falling-and then there was a sickening surging feeling, as if eels were wriggling through his innards, as the sparks streamed into the midst of his misty form.
Fire followed, and the wracking pain of being caught squarely in the raging, blistering heat of hot flame. Elminster threw back his head and shouted-a sound that echoed back off the high vaulting above as he fell in earnest this time, dropping several feet before he was rudely caught up in a tangle of webs.
The webs were spells spinning themselves down and around him from the smoky helix. He was caught in their coils, their substance melting into his skin and pouring into his nose and mouth, choking him.
He gagged, writhed, and tried to vomit, throat shuddering spasmodically. Then it was over, and he was on his knees on cold flagstones, the masked elven sorcerer standing on air not far away, looking down at him with a superior smile.
"Arise," the Masked said coldly. El decided to test things right now. Acting dazed, he hid his face in his hands and groaned, but did not try to get up.
"Elminster!" the elf snapped, but El shook his head, murmuring something wordless. Abruptly he felt a burning sensation in his head, like heat flowing down his neck and shoulders, and an irresistable tugging began, making all of his limbs leap and tremble. He could fight this, El thought, and resist for some time, but it was best to seem entirely in thrall, so he hastened to his feet, to stand as The Masked posed him: upright but with both arms extended, offering his wrists as if for binding.
The elven sorcerer met Elminster's gaze with eyes that were very level and very dark, and El suddenly found his limbs being pulled again. He surrendered utterly this time, and the elf made him wave his arms wide, point downwards, and then slap himself across the face, hard, once with each hand.
It hurt, and as El shook his numbed hands and felt his lips with his tongue where his teeth had rattled under the blows, The Masked smiled again. "Your body seems to work well. Come."
El's limbs were suddenly free to move as he willed. He set aside any urge to strike back, and followed humbly, head bent. A heavy feeling of being watched rode his shoulders, but he didn't bother to look up and back to find the floating eye he knew would be there.
The Masked touched the featureless wall of the spell chamber and an oval doorway suddenly opened in it. The elf turned on its threshold to look his new apprentice up and down and allowed himself a slow, cold smile of triumph.
El decided to act as if it was a smile of welcome, and tremulously matched it. The elven mage shook his head wryly at that and turned away, crooking one hand in a beckoning gesture.
Rolling his eyes inwardly but careful to keep