Elminster in Myth Drannor - Ed Greenwood [146]
He was almost inside when firm fingers took hold of his left ear. He wrenched himself free and spun around, hand snatching out a dagger. "Who-?" he snarled-and then fell silent, gaping.
The lady some had known as the most beautiful and deadly in all Cormanthor smiled almost dreamily at him as she floated in the doorway, blue fire playing about her limbs. "Why, Galan," Symrustar Auglamyr said delightedly, "you please me greatly. To think that at long last you've put thieving behind you, and have come to the houses of Myth Drannans to repay them in gems for all that you've stolen!"
Galan's face twisted in utter incredulity. "What? Repay? 'Myth Drannans'?"
Those were the last words he uttered before lips that blazed came down on his-and gems started to fly out of his boots like angry wasps leaving a nest, away into the bright air of Myth Drannor.
Moonrise over Myth Drannor that first night was a time of joy. Horns blew and harps were struck in a delighted cacophony, as if a year's festivals and revels had been rolled into one frantic celebration. Thanks to the silent, invisible wonderwork that overlaid the city like a domed shield, those who'd never been able to fly before could do so now, without need of spell or item. The air was full of laughing, embracing elves. Wine flowed freely, and troths were plighted with eager abandon. The moon was full and bright, and spilled down through the riven roof of the Chamber of the Court in a bright flood.
An elven lady glided alone into the empty room, her jeweled slippers treading air above the bloodstained pave. The hems of her low-cut gown glittered with a breathtaking fall of gems, and on her breast diamonds sparkled in the shape of twin falling dragons. Only streaks of white and gray at her temples betrayed her age as she moved sinuously through the stillness, coming at last to where a small pile of ashes lay in the bright pool of moonlight.
She looked down at them in silence for a long time, the quickening rise and fall of her breast the only difference between her and a statue. A tattered song floated in through the rent in the roof above as joyous elves soared past, and the silent lady clenched her fists so tightly that blood dripped from where her long nails pierced her palms.
Lady Sharaera Starym raised her beautiful head to look at the moon riding high above, drew in a deep breath, looked down at what little was left of her
Uldreiyn, and hissed fiercely, "The Mythal must fall, and Elminster must be destroyed!"
Only the ghosts were there to hear her.
At the time of the laying of the Mythal, some of the elves of Cormanthor thought opening their realm to other races was a mistake. I'm sure some still do.
There was some small dispute and bother at the time, as there is at the birthing of any new thing that is not a living babe, but nothing that minstrels or sages need be overly concerned about. A matter of a few swords, a handful of spells, and some hasty words, followed by a party. In short, it was very like most of what human heroes are wont to call "adventures."
Elminster the Sage
from a speech to an assembly of Harpers in Twilight Hall,
Berdusk
The Year of the Harp
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Table of Contents
Prologue
Part I
Elminster took the scepter from its soft midair...
Two
Three
Four
He was still two speeding paces away when the...
Five
Six
Part II
Eight
Nine
Ten
"We're quite alone, Elminster," the Lady...
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Epilogue