Elminster in Myth Drannor - Ed Greenwood [35]
The burly elf let out all his breath in a gasp of white smoke, and reeled. More white vapors billowed out of his ears, nose, and eyeballs. Riluaneth's brain was afire inside his head, something that Iymbryl had predicted, with uncharacteristic dark humor, would be "a swiftly ended blaze, to be sure."
It was. Elminster barely got out of the way in time as the big, sleek body toppled past him, starting its headlong plunge down the stair. It bounced twice, wetly, on the way down.
Someone screamed at the bottom of the stair. El sorted impatiently through the magics that the gem was proudly displaying, brushing aside images of the deft castings of elves who wore superior smiles, and found what he needed.
A bloodfire spell, to burn away a burly troublemaker to nothing. A pyre without a barge might be the dwarven way, but Elminster had no time to be fussy about such things; already a triple-chiming gong had struck forth a strident chord on the floor below.
Brief brightness told him Riluaneth's remains had caught fire. El glanced over at the gaming board and found it gone-servant, pieces, and all. He wasn't the only one in this house who could move swiftly.
He might have been the only human ever to slay an elf here, though. Curses upon all cruel and arrogant bloods. Why couldn't he have run into Ornthalas in this corridor, and not into more trouble?
Below, the fire died and the blade clanged to the floor. There must be nothing left of Riluaneth now but trailing smoke and ash.
Time for him to be away from here, elsewhere in this grand house. Word of his part in Riluaneth's passing would spread soon enough. If he could somehow get to the heir first, and pass on the gem…
El bounded through the archway and down the passage beyond, sprinting with a lack of grace that would have raised elven eyebrows, but which certainly covered ground faster than they would have cared to. He snatched open a door and leapt into the high-ceilinged chamber beyond, finding himself in a place of floor-to-ceiling screens of filigree-work and lecterns with animated hands sprouting from their tops-hands that proffered open books to him as he darted past.
The Alastrarran library? Or reading room? He'd have liked to spend a winter here, or more, not dash past things without even looking at th- But there was another door. El dodged around a floating, reclining chair that looked more comfortable than any other seating he'd ever seen and made a dive for the door handle.
He was still two speeding paces away
when the door suddenly swung away
from Mm, opening to reveal a
startled elven face now inches from
his own! He couldn't stop or swerve
in time…
"He fell right here, Revered Lady!" the dancer gasped, pointing. His oiled body glistened in the flickering light of the brazier-bowls that circled around them both in obedience to the will of the matriarch of House Alastrarra.
The plum-hued gown she wore displayed every tall, curvaceous inch of Namyriitha Alastrarra from time to time, as portions of it flowed like smoke to wreath this part of her or that part of her in glistening rainbow droplets, and left other parts bare. An expert eye could tell she had no longer been young for many centuries, but few eyes bothered to practice any expertise when faced with such smooth-flowing beauty.
Fewer dared to look her way at all, when her face was as dark with fury as it was right now. "Keep back!" she snarled, sweeping an arm out to reinforce her order. Her gown rose into an elaborate sculpture of rising, interlaced spines standing up from her shoulders, but her hair burst through them now, a sure sign of unbridled rage. A servant whimpered softly, somewhere nearby. They'd only seen her thus thrice