Elminster in Myth Drannor - Ed Greenwood [52]
"I'll take it," El growled, starting past her. He stopped in midstride and kicked at the hilt of a blade buried under the coins. "This?"
"A sword that cuts darkness, and the undead things called shadows-though I believe wraiths and ghosts also-"
He waved a dismissive hand and set off back down the passage toward the chest. The Srinshee adjusted the jeweled gown he'd unearthed and insisted she put on-it persisted in sliding off one aged shoulder-and sighed. They'd be here at any moment, and they-
Were here now. There was a soundless flash of light in the domed central chamber, and El stiffened, finding himself suddenly ringed with unfriendly looking elven sorceresses. Six of them there were, all holding scepters trained at him. Tiny sparks winked and flowed along those deadly things. Along the passage El saw the Srinshee coming up behind him. She snapped her fingers as she came, and a seventh scepter was suddenly in that hand, leveled and ready.
He turned his back on her slowly, knowing who'd be awaiting him in the other direction. Rulers always liked to make entrances. Behind two of the sorceresses was an old elf in white robes, with eyes like two pools of stars. The women slid sideways smoothly to make a place for him in the ring of death. The Coronal.
"Well met, Revered Lord," Elminster said, and gently set the crystal sphere he held down into the open chest.
The elf looked down at the treasures it held, and raised an approving eyebrow. Things of nurturing, not things of battle. His voice when it rolled forth, however, was stern. "I bade you choose one thing only, to take forth from these vaults. Let us all now witness that choice."
Elminster bowed, and then walked to the Coronal, hands spread and empty.
"Well?" the elven ruler demanded.
"I have made my choice," El said quietly.
"You choose to take nothing?" the Coronal asked, frowning. "'Tis a coward's way of trying to evade death."
"Nay," Elminster replied, voice just as stern. "I've chosen the most precious thing in thy vaults."
Scepters hung quivering in midair all around him, abandoned by sorceresses who were now weaving magics for all they were worth. El turned slowly, one eyebrow raised, as they whispered incantations in a murmuring chorus. Only the Srinshee's hands were still. She held her scepter tipped back so that its point touched her own breast, and her eyes were anxious.
Spells fell upon Elminster Aumar then, spells that searched and proved and scryed, vainly seeking hidden items or disguising magics on the young man's body. One by one they looked to the Coronal and gave small shakes of their heads; they'd found nothing.
"And what is that most precious thing?" the Coronal asked finally, as two of the sorceresses slowly drew in front of him to form a shield, raised scepters in their hands once more.
"Friendship," Elminster replied. "Shared regard, and my fondness for a wise and gracious lady." He turned to face the Srinshee and made a deep bow, such as envoys did to kings they truly respected, in the kingdoms of men.
After a long moment, as the other elves stared at her, the old sorceress smiled and echoed his bow. Her eyes were very bright, with what might be tears.
The Coronal's eyebrows rose. "You've chosen more wisely even than I might have done," he said. More than one of the six court sorceresses looked stunned. There were open gasps of astonished horror around their circle when the ruler of all Cormanthor bowed deeply to Elminster. "I am honored by your presence in this fairest of realms; you are welcome here, as deserving of residence as any of the People. Be one with Cormanthor."
"And Cormanthor shall be one with thee," the sorceresses chanted in unison. There was dumbfounded awe in more than one of those voices. Elminster smiled at the Coronal, but turned to embrace