Elminster in Myth Drannor - Ed Greenwood [41]
The warriors and servants stared at the old mage in genuine astonishment; the Starym held themselves to be the pinnacle of all that is noble and fine among the People, and even their age-old rivals acknowledged them first among all the proud Houses of Cormanthor.
The corners of Naeryndam's mouth crooked in what might almost have been a smile as he looked around the room at all the astonished faces. With blade in hand he motioned his kin and the servants all to stand before him, on one side of the room. When no one moved, he let fire roll forth from the blade again, in long, snarling arcs of clear warning. Slowly, almost dazedly, they obeyed.
"Now," the old mage told them, "just for this once, and for a short enough time, ye'll listen-ye too, Ornthalas, risen Heir of House Alastrarra."
A groan was his only reply, but those who turned to look saw Ornthalas nodding, his white face still held in his hands.
"This human youngling," Naeryndam said, pointing down at the body beneath him with his scepter, "invoked the law of the realm. And yet all of ye-save Filaurel and Sheedra and young Nanthleene-attacked him, or tried to. Ye disgust me."
There were murmurs of protest. He quelled them with fire leaping in his old eyes and continued, "Yes, disgust me. This House has an heir right now because this man risked his life, and kept to his honor. He made his way into our city, past a hundred elves or more who might have killed him-would have slain him, had they known his true nature-because Iymbryl asked him to. And because he keeps his word to those not of his kin nor race, those he barely knows, and dared this task, the memories of this House, the thoughts of our forebears, are not lost, and we can keep our rightful place in the realm as a first House. All because of this human, whose name we don't even know."
"Nevertheless," his sister Namyriitha began, "w-"
"I'm not finished," her brother said, in tones that cut like steel. "Thou listen even less well than the young ones, sister."
Had the moment been less important, the air less full of tension and awe, the gathered House might have enjoyed the sight of the sharp-tongued matriarch opening and closing her mouth like a gasping fish in silence, as her face flooded crimson and purple. No one, though, so much as looked at her; their eyes were all on Naeryndam, the oldest living Alastrarran.
"The human invoked our law," the old mage said flatly. "Younglings, heed well: the law is just that-the law, a thing not permitting of our tampering or setting aside. If we do, we are no better than the most brutal ruukha or the most dishonest human. I will not stand idle and see ye of the blood of Thurruvyn fail the rightful honor of our House… and of our race. If ye would attack the human, ye must first defeat me."
The silence that followed was broken by a groan from beneath the old mage; the raven-haired, hawk-nosed human youth gave an involuntary cry of pain as he stirred. One tanned and rather dirty hand closed blindly on the booted elven ankle hard by it. At the sight a warrior of House Alastrarra cried out and threw his blade.
End over end it flashed, straight at the tousled head of the human, as he started to claw his way up the leg of the elf who stood over him.
Naeryndam calmly watched it come, and at precisely the right moment swept his own blade down to strike the whirling steel aside into a corner of the room. "Thou listen but poorly, do thou not?" he asked with soft sadness, as the warrior who'd thrown the blade cowered away from him. "When is this House going to start using its wits?"
"My wits tell me that Alastrarra shall be forever stained and belittled by Cormanthans from end to end of our fair realm, as the House that harbored a human," the Lady Namyriitha said bitterly, raising her hands dramatically.
'Yes," Melarue chimed in, rising from the floor with the pain of her striving against the barrier still etched on her face. "You've lost your wits,