Elminster in Myth Drannor - Ed Greenwood [44]
"Our lives must seem fleeting to elves," El murmured, as the path took them up into small bowers of curved seats amid shrubs, and past trickling streamlets and little pools.
"Aye," the elven mage told him, "but I meant rather the peril ye stand in. Speak as fairly in the time just ahead as ye did to the watchnorn, lad, or death may yet find thee this night."
The young man beside him was silent for some time. "Is the Coronal one I should kneel to?" he asked finally, as they came up some stone steps and between two strange, spiral-barked trees out onto a broad patio lit by luminous plants.
"Be guided by his face," the mage replied smoothly as they advanced, not hurrying.
An elf sat on nothing at the center of the paved space, with an open book, a tray of tall, thin bottles, and a footrest floating in the air around him. Two cloaked elves who wore power as if it crowned them stood on either side of him; at the sight of the human they glided swiftly forward to bar Elminster's path to the Coronal, slowing only slightly at the sight of Naeryndam Alastrarra behind the human.
"You must have helped this forbidden one win past the watchnorns," one of the elven mages said to the old elf-mage, ignoring Elminster as if he were no more than a post or bird-spotted stone sculpture. His voice was cold with anger. "Why? What treachery, reveal unto us, could reach the heart of one who has served the realm so long? Have your kin sent you hither for punishment?"
"No treachery, Earynspieir," Naeryndam replied calmly, "nor punishment, but a matter of state requiring the judgment of the Coronal. This human invoked our law, and survives to stand here because of it."
"No human can claim rights under the laws of Cormanthor," the other mage snapped. "Only those of our People can be citizens of the realm: elves, and elf-kin."
"And how would ye judge a human who has in all honor, and not through battle-spoil, worn a kiira of an elder House of Cormanthor, and walked the streets of our city until he found the rightful heir to surrender it to?"
"I'd believe that tale only when it could be proven to me, beyond doubt," Earynspieir replied. "What House?"
"Mine own," Naeryndam replied.
Into the little silence that his soft words made, the old elfin the chair said, "Enough tongue-fencing, lords. This man is here, that I may judge; bring him to me."
Elminster ducked around the mage who stood nearest and strode boldly toward the Coronal. He never saw the mage wheel and cast a deadly spell at him, or Naeryndam nullify it with a scepter held ready for just such an occurrence.
The second mage was hurling another dark magic when Elminster knelt before the ruler of all Cormanthor. The Coronal raised a hand, and that magic, rushing toward his face like a dark roiling in the air, ceased to be. "Enough spell-hurling, lords all," he commanded gently. "Let us see this man." He looked into Elminster's eyes.
El's mouth was suddenly dry. The eyes of the elven king were like holes opening into the night sky. Stars swam and twinkled in their depths, and one could fall into those dark pools and be dragged down, down, and away…
He shook his head to clear it, clenched his teeth at the effort required, and set one booted foot on the pave. It seemed as if he were lifting a castle tower on his shoulders when he tried to straighten that leg, and surge to his feet. He growled, and set about doing so.
Behind him, the three elven mages exchanged looks. Not even they could forge on against the Coronal's will, when mindlocked with the ruler of all Cormanthor.
White-faced and trembling, sweat running in rivers down his cheeks and chin, the raven-haired young man rose slowly, gaze still locked with the Coronal, until he was standing beside the seated elf.
"Do you resist me yet?" the old elf whispered.