Elminster in Myth Drannor - Ed Greenwood [57]
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"Though in time to come I and others shall teach you some of the spells of our People," the Srinshee said, "a time of great danger awaits you now, Elminster." She smiled. "You didn't need me to tell you that."
El nodded. "That's why ye brought me here." He looked around at the dark and dusty walls and asked, "But what is this place?"
"A sacred tomb of our people-a haunted tower, once the home of the first proud and noble House to try to make themselves greater than the rest of us. The Dlardrageth."
"What happened to them?"
"They courted incubi and succubi, seeking to breed a stronger race. Few survived such dealings, fewer still the birthings that followed, and all elven peoples turned against them. The few survivors were walled in here by our strongest spells, until the end of their days." The Srinshee dusted her hand across a pillar thoughtfully, uncovering a relief carving of a leering face. "Some of those spells still linger, though daring young Cormanthan lords broke in more than a thousand years ago to despoil this castle of the riches of House Dlardrageth. They found little of value, and took away what they did find. They also took back word of the ghosts that linger here."
"Ghosts?" Elminster asked calmly. The Srinshee nodded.
"Oh, there are a few, but nothing that need be feared. What matters most is that we won't be disturbed."
"Ye're going to teach me magic?"
"No," the Srinshee said, drawing close so that she stood looking up at him. "You're going to teach me magic."
El raised both brows. "I-?"
"With this," she said calmly, as she spread her empty hands and they suddenly filled with-his spellbook.
She staggered a trifle, under its weight, and he automatically took it from her, peering at it. Aye, it was his. Left in a saddlebag, back in a fern-filled dell in the trackless forest where the White Raven Patrol had met with far too many ruukha.
"My deepest thanks, Lady," Elminster said to her, going to one knee so that he was below her and not towering over her. "Yet at the risk of sounding ungrateful, won't those of the People who are upset by one of my race being named armathor be turning Cormanthor over stone by tree, looking for me? And won't the other elves of thy realm expect me to take up some duties to go with my rank… in other words, to be seen?"
"Seen you will be, soon enough," the Srinshee said grimly. "The center of plots and schemes aplenty, even by those who do not wish you ill. We are jaded, in the fair city of Cormanthor, and each new interest becomes something to be sported over by the great Houses. All too often, their sport mars or destroys that which they toy with."
"Elves begin to seem more and more like men," El told her, sitting down on the broken stump of a pillar.
"How dare you!" the old sorceress snarled. He looked up in time to see her smile and reach out to tousle his hair. "How dare you speak truth to me," she murmured. "So few of my race ever do… or have done. 'Tis a rare pleasure, to deal in honesty for a change."
"How, now? Are not elves honest?" El asked teasingly, for there was a brightness that might have been rising tears in her old eyes again.
"Let us say that some of us are too worldly for our own good," she said with a smile, strolling away from him on air. She whirled about and added, "And the others are too world-weary."
At her words, a darkness rose behind her, and sudden claws flashed down. El started up with a cry, but the claws flashed through her and raced on through the gloom between them, trailing a thin, high wailing that faded away as if into vast distances.
El watched where it had gone, and then turned back to the small sorceress. "One of the ghosts?" he asked, brow raised.
She nodded. "They want to learn your magic too."
He smiled, and then, seeing her expression, let the grin slowly fade from his lips. "Ye're not jesting," he said roughly.
She shook her head. The sadness