Elminster_ The Making of a Mage - Ed Greenwood [117]
It was much later when, at a gentle touch, she awoke; the innkeeper was bending over her. His guest tensed and looked up alertly as if she might spring up in a moment to give battle or flee.
Phaernos gazed down at her expressionlessly and said, "The house is closed for the night and the drinkers've gone home…you're the only guest to sleep here tonight. Tell me your name, and what you meant about… paying me with magic." At his words, two of the women drew nearer to listen.
"I'm Elmara," his guest said, "a traveler from afar. I'm no mage, but I can work a few spells. Would ye like a larger storage cellar?"
Phaernos looked at her silently for a breath or two, and then the beginnings of a smile crept onto his face. "A larger cesspit would be more useful."
"I can do that, or both," Elmara said, rising, "if ye'll let me sleep here this night."
Phaernos nodded. "Done, lady… if you'll come with me, I'll show you a bed where no magelord will find you."
The woman gave him a sharp look and asked softly, "What d'ye know of me?"
The innkeeper shrugged. "Nothing… but a friend asked me to watch out for Elmara, if she should pass this way."
"Who was this friend?"
"He goes by the name of Braer," answered the innkeeper, looking steadily into her eyes.
El smiled and relaxed, her shoulders slumping wearily. "Show me the cellar and the pit first," she said. "It may befall that I'll have to slip away before daybreak."
Phaernos nodded again, saying nothing, and they went out together. As the door swung closed, the two kitchen-women exchanged looks-and with one accord made the warding sign against Tyche's disfavor, and turned back to their dishes.
In the morning, Elmara awoke to find her wet things had been dried and hung, and atop her battered pack sat a cloth bundle. It proved to contain sausage, dried fish, and hard bread. She smiled, dressed swiftly, and went out, to find the innkeeper slumped asleep in a chair by the bedchamber door, an old sword across his knees.
Swallowing to drive down the sudden lump in her throat, Elmara slipped down the stairs and out by the kitchen door, past the cesspit and into the trees behind. Perhaps it would have been wiser not to have said anything about magelords or spells last night… but she'd been wet and exhausted, and it was done.
It would be best to be well away from Ambletrees before any word of a sorceress spread. Elmara kept to the trees as long as possible before stepping out into the back fields, heading north toward Far Torel. She took care to keep well out of sight of the road. Phaernos had said many armsmen had marched up it this last tenday, gathering for he knew not what-an attack on the elves of the High Forest, he half-hoped and half-feared.
Elmara doubted the magelords would risk themselves as the innkeeper hoped. No, they'd more likely order the woods set afire, and tell their armsmen to use crossbows to fell any elves who came to fight the flames. She sighed and strode on. She might have to spend years slipping across Athalantar like a shadow, evading the clutches of the wizards and their swaggering armsmen while learning all she could of what magelords ruled where. If she were ever to avenge her parents and free the realm, she'd have to find some way to fell a few of the stronger magelords in the backlands so watching eyes would be fewer and she could make their deaths seem the work of enemy magelords or ambitious apprentices.
Perhaps she could seduce a magelord to gain his confidence and learn all he knew before destroying him. Elmara sighed, came to a thoughtful halt for a moment, and then went on. Not only did the idea make her stomach heave, she hadn't the faintest idea of how to act enticing… enough that a wizard who could have any maid he wanted would spare her more than a passing glance. A spell to change her shape might be noticed, and she wasn't particularly beautiful. She slowed her customary brisk stride and swayed her hips, gliding along with the lynxlike allure of an