Elminster in Myth Drannor - Ed Greenwood [78]
"No apology is necessary, fair Lady," El replied smoothly, "when no offense is taken." He glanced quickly back at the revel, and saw several curious faces turned in their direction, but no one moving toward them, or nearby.
"You must know how beautiful males of at least two races find you," he added, glancing ahead to ensure that the garden was similarly empty-and knowing that it almost certainly was; this lady planned things carefully-"but I must confess that I find splendid minds more intriguing than splendid bodies."
Lady Symrustar met his eyes. "Would you prefer I dropped the pretense of breathless excitement then, Lord Elminster?" she asked softly. "Among the People, many males do not believe that their ladies really have minds."
Elminster crooked an eyebrow. "With your swift wit gliding through revel after revel to prove them different?"
She laughed, eyes flashing. "Blood to you," she acknowledged. "I think I'm going to enjoy this." She led him on through the garden, walking now, whatever magic had levitated her banished or exhausted. Her hips swayed with every step in a way that left Elminster's mouth dry; he kept his eyes firmly on her eyes and saw a little knowing twinkle growing in them. She knew full well what effect she was having on him.
"I spoke simple truth when first we met," she said, tossing that magnificent hair out of the way again, "I do want to learn all I can about humans. Will you oblige me? My questions may seem witless at times."
"Lady, allow me," El murmured, wondering when her attack would fall on him, and what form it would take. He was mildly surprised, as they walked deeper and deeper into the wild and empty depths of the garden and the last sunlight started to fade, just how thorough her questioning was, and genuine her interest seemed.
They came at last to a pale glow of moonlight in the trees ahead, talking earnestly of how elves dwelt in Cormanthor and humans lived in Athalantar. Symrustar led her exotic human to a stone bench that curved about a circular pool in the center of that clearing. Reflected stars glimmered in its depths as they sat down together in the pleasantly warm night air, and the bright moonlight touched Symrustar's smooth skin with ivory fingers.
Quite naturally and simply, as if this was something elven females always did when sitting on benches in the moonlight, she guided Elminster's hands within the wire breastworks of her gown. She was trembling.
"Tell me more of men," she murmured, her eyes very large now, and seemingly darker. "Tell me… how they love."
Elminster almost smiled as a memory flashed through his mind. In the library of a wizard's tomb lost in the High Forest there is a curious book that has no name. It is the diary of a nameless half-elven ranger of long ago, that tells of his thoughts and deeds, and the sorceress Myrjala had made Elminster read it to learn how elves regarded magic. On the subject of giving pleasure to elven maids, it mentioned using one's tongue gently on the palms of the hands and the tips of the ears.
El slipped one of his hands out of where she'd put it, let his fingertips trail down her belly, and then caught hold of her wrist.
"Hungrily," he replied, and bent his tongue to her open palm.
She gasped, trembling in earnest now, and he lifted his head out of long habit to look around.
Moonlight gleamed on a set and furious elven face. A male, there in the trees. El slid his other hand free. There was another, over there. And another. They sat at the heart of a silently closing ring.
"What is it, Lord Elminster?" the Lady Symrustar asked, almost sharply. "Am I-abhorrent in some way?"
"Lady," he replied, "we are about to be attacked." He put his hands on the scepter at his belt, but the elven maid rose and turned with swift, fluid grace, and looked into the trees.
"They'll charge us, now, in silence," she said calmly. "Hold to me, and I'll take us from this place!"
Elminster slipped an arm about her waist and crouched low, scepter out and ready. She