Elminster in Myth Drannor - Ed Greenwood [138]
His face was cloaked in conjured darkness; the tense Cormanthan guards saw only two keen eyes peering at them out of its shadow, but the Srinshee said firmly, "Mentor, you are welcome within our ring."
"Move, stalwarts," the Lady Herald murmured, and this time the warriors were quick to obey.
There was another stir in the crowded hall then, as a line of folk pushed through the assembled Cormanthans. The High Court Mage strode along at the head of this procession, and behind him walked Lord Aulauthar Orbryn, Lord Ondabrar Maendellyn, and a half-elven lord whose cloaked shoulders were surrounded by a whirling ring of glowing gemstones, whom the Srinshee identified in a whisper as "the sorcerer Arguth of Ambral Isle." Bringing up the rear was the High Lady of Art Alea Dahast, slim, smiling, and sharp-eyed.
It was becoming crowded in the ring, and as the Coronal embraced the last of these arrivals, he asked the Srinshee, "Is this all Mythanthar needs, do you think?"
"We await one more," the little sorceress told him, peering over the shoulders of the guards, and finally rising so as to stand on air above them. Playfully Mythanthar began to tap her toes, until she commenced to kick.
"Ah," she said then, beckoning at a face among the gathered citizens. "Our last. Come on, Dathlue!"
Looking surprised, the slender warrior stepped forth in her armor, unbuckling the slim long sword that swayed at her hip. Surrendering it to the guards, she slipped into the ring, kissed the Coronal full on the mouth, clapped the Srinshee on the arm, and then stood waiting.
They all looked at each other. The Srinshee looked at Mythanthar, who nodded.
"Widen the ring," the little sorceress commanded crisply. "A long way, now, we need as much space again. Sylmae, did you get all the bows brought in here?"
"No," the sorceress in the ring replied, without turning. "I got the arrows. Holone got the bows."
"And I got some nasty wands," Yathlanae put in, from her place along the ring. "Some of these ladies were wearing four garters just to carry them all!"
The Srinshee sighed theatrically, and said to Mythanthar, "Don't say anything-whatever you're thinking, just don't say it."
The old mage assumed a look of exaggerated innocence, and spread his hands.
The little sorceress shook her head and started taking folk in the ring by the elbows and leading them to where she wanted them to stand, until they stood widely spaced in a ring around Mythanthar, facing inward.
Elminster was surprised to find himself trembling. He shot a look at Nacacia, caught her reassuring smile, and answered it. Then he cast a long look all around the hall, from its floating throne to the gap in the ceiling to the huge, rough sections of toppled, broken pillar and, revealed behind it, the statue of a crouching elven hero who was menacing the Court with his outthrust sword. He stared hard at it for a long moment, but it was just that: a statue, complete with a thin mantle of dust.
He drew in a deep breath, and tried to relax. Mystra, be with us all now, he thought. Shape and oversee this great magic, I pray, that it be what ye saw so long ago, to send me here.
The Srinshee drew in a deep breath then, looked around at them all, and whispered, "Let it begin."
In the excitement, no one in all that vast hall noticed something small and dark and dusty crawling among them, humping and slithering like some sort of inchworm as it made its slow way out across the bloodstained floor of the chamber-heading steadily for the ring.
Within the ring, Mythanthar spread his hands again, eyes closed, and from his fingers thin beams of light forged out, silent and slow, to link with each person in the ring. He murmured something, and the watching Cormanthans gasped in awe and alarm as his body exploded into a roiling cloud of blood and bones.
Elminster gasped, and almost moved from his