Elminster in Myth Drannor - Ed Greenwood [34]
El took it, wanting very much to be out of the passage before one of the Alastrarras found him. He ascended past a chamber where dancers were stretching into and out of twists and backflips, obviously warming up for a performance to come. Of both sexes, they wore only their long hair, flowing free. Tiny bells were woven into some of the locks, and their bodies were painted with intricate and obviously fresh designs.
One of them glanced at the elf hurrying past on the stair, but El put a finger to his chin as if in deep thought and hastened on, pretending not to have noticed the arching bodies of the dancers at all.
The stair took him then to a landing festooned with hanging plants-or rather, with spire-bottomed bowls enspelled so as to float at varying heights above the landing, to let the trailing leaves of their living burdens just brush the iridescent tiles underfoot.
El ducked between them toward an archway visible in the dimness beyond, still affecting his "lost in thought" pose. Then he came to an abrupt halt as something barred his way.
It blossomed into cold, white brightness, curling up to illuminate the chamber from its source: the naked edge of a leveled sword blade.
The blade hung by itself in midair, but a few drifting motes of magical radiance drew El's eye from it to an elven hand-an upraised right hand in a back corner, near the archway.
It belonged to a handsome, almost burly elf who must be accounted a muscle-bound giant among Cormanthans. The elf rose with easy grace from the gleaming black gaming board on the floor at which he'd been playing spellcircles, here in the darkness, against a frail-seeming servant-a maid who'd have been beautiful if there hadn't been so much fear in her eyes. She was losing, badly, and no doubt saw ahead the whipping or other punishment her burly opponent had promised her. El wondered for a moment if winning or losing would grant her the greater pain.
The lore-gem told El that the burly elf facing him was Riluaneth, a cousin taken in by the Alastrarras after his parents died, and a source of trouble ever since. Resentful and with a cruel streak that was seldom far from governing him, Ril had delighted in teasing and occasionally tormenting the two young Alastrarran brothers, Iymbryl and Ornthalas.
"Riluaneth," El greeted him now, voice level. The glowing blade turned slowly in the air to point at him; Elminster ignored it.
There was a spell the kiira urgently wanted him to examine; a spell Iymbryl had linked with his image of Riluaneth, binding the two together with a surge of anger. El followed its bidding, standing motionless as his burly cousin glided toward him. "As always, Iym," purred Riluaneth, "you blunder in where you aren't wanted, and see too much. That'll get you hurt some day… possibly sooner."
The glow around the blade faded abruptly, and out of the sudden darkness the blade hissed right at El's face.
He ducked aside, followed by Riluaneth's quiet laughter. The sword swooped overhead and raced off into the gloom, seeking its true quarry. The servant sobbed once, utter terror making her too breathless to do more, as the blade raced at her mouth.
Grimly El bought her life at the possible cost of his own. A quick spell plucked the blade out of its flight and wrestled it around to fly away from the elven maiden. Riluaneth grunted in amazement. His hand swept to his belt, to the hilt of the knife he wore there.
Well, a human intruder could do at least one good deed for House Alastrarra this day. El set his teeth and fought off the burly elf's clawing, clumsy mental attempt to regain control of the blade. The attempt ended abruptly as El lifted the streaking blade a little, over Riluaneth's drawn dagger, and let it slide through the elf s midriff.
Riluaneth staggered, doubled