Elminster_ The Making of a Mage - Ed Greenwood [105]
The minstrel was clutching his throat, eyes staring in fear as he convulsed on his stool. He was goggling at a man who'd risen from his chair at a nearby table-a table of haughty, richly robed men who were laughing at the minstrel's fate. The table in their midst was a forest of already-emptied bottles, goblets, and skins. Elmara saw wands at their belts, as well as daggers… wizards.
"What're ye doing?" That sharp question came from a fat merchant at another table.
The mage who stood with one outstretched hand slowly clenching, choking the breath out of the minstrel, turned his head to sneer, "We don't allow that dead man to be mentioned in Athalantar."
"You're not in Athalantar!" a man at another table protested as the minstrel gagged and gurgled helplessly.
The wizard shrugged as he stared coolly around the room. "We are magelords of Athalantar, and all this land will soon be part of our realm," he said flatly.
Elmara saw the innkeeper, emerging from the kitchens with a steaming platter on his shoulder, come to a shocked halt as he heard the magelord's words.
The wizard smiled silkily around the room. "Is anyone here foolish enough to try to stop me?"
"Yes," Elmara said quietly from her corner, as she broke the strangling spell. Her hands were already moving again as she stepped aside into deeper shadows. The table of magelords-El suspected they were in truth apprentices of little power, here to escort a caravan or do some such lesser work-peered into the darkness, trying to catch sight of her. Then her casting was done. She strode forward, addressing the standing wizard. "Those who wield powerful magic should never use it to bully those who have none. D'ye agree?"
"You are mistaken," the magelord sneered, and raised his hands to work another spell.
Elmara sighed and pointed. The wizard stiffened in midincantation and clutched at his throat.
"Your own spell," Elmara informed the choking wizard pleasantly. "It seems quite effective… but then, perhaps I am mistaken."
Her words brought a roar of rage from six throats as the self-styled magelords erupted from their seats, snatching at wands and spilling bottles and flagons in their haste. Elmara watched glass topple and roll, smiled, and said the word that brought her waiting spell down upon them.
Wands were leveled and angry hands shaped gestures in the air. Words were spat and strange items flourished as the six able magelords bent malicious magic on their lone foe.
And nothing happened.
Elmara announced calmly to the room, "I can prevent these men from using their magic-for a time. I would enjoy a good spell battle, but I'd rather not destroy this inn doing it. If ye'd care to deal with them…?"
There was a moment of shocked silence. Then chairs scraped back, and men reached for daggers-and the magelords fled. Or tried to. Outthrust boots tripped magelings not used to watching where they walked, and enthusiastic fists laid low apprentices not used to brawling with anything less than fireballs. One wizard's dagger slashed a merchant across the face, and the snarling man hauled out his own knife and made good use of it.
The crash of the mage's body going to the floor amid overturning chairs brought the room to silence again. Only the one magelord was dead; the rest lay senseless, strewn about amid the disarranged tables and chairs.
The innkeeper was the first to say what many of the diners were thinking. "That was all too easy-but who among us will live when their fellow mages come down on us for revenge?"
"Aye-they'll turn us all to snails and grind us under their boots!"
"They'll blow the inn apart with flame, and us in it!"
"Mayhap," Elmara said, "but only if some tongues here wag too freely." She calmly raised her hands and cast a spell, and then went about the room touching the wizards. Men backed out of her way in haste; it was easy to see they viewed wizards