Elminster_ The Making of a Mage - Ed Greenwood [124]
The small coffer probably held gems and coins; the larger one and the chest were more likely to hold healing potions, if any were to be found here. There were apt to be some, if things she'd heard in Hastarl were true. With them, a magelord could rescue injured men and earn their gratitude, or bargain with them and force their service… and without them, a magelord could find himself at the mercy of priests and lesser men who might have healing magic, and could do the same to him.
Which chest or coffer held them, though? Elmara drew her dagger, and felt in the hair over her ear for one of the two lock-picks she still carried. A few deft turns and probes, and the lid of the coffer clicked once. She laid down on the floor beside the coffer, and carefully lifted the lid with the point of her dagger.
Nothing happened. Cautiously she raised her head to peer into it-and saw only coins. Bah!
She was working on the chest when someone came into the room-no, two people, a man who was laughing in anticipation and someone else. A maid for his pleasure, doubtless. The door slammed shut, and a bolt clacked into place.
The bed creaked just over Elmara's head. Ducking involuntarily, she pursed her lips and paused in her work on the lock. It would make a loud clicking sound when she forced it open.
She did not have to wait very long-when the man was roaring with laughter at his own jest, he made more than enough noise to drown out the sound of the chest opening. Unloading it onto the carpet while the couple bounced and rolled around on the bed just above her was a long, sweaty business, but Elmara's care was rewarded: along one side of the chest, under a robe that shimmered blue to her gaze with its own magic, were a row of metal tubes, each stoppered with a wax-sealed cork, and neatly labeled. One gave the power of flight, and the others were all for healing. Aye!
With a triumphant smile, El slid them into her boots and carefully repacked the chest, casting a longing look at the spell-book fastened into the lid. Nay; her task now was to begone from here, as fast as she could without raising an alarm.
Not so easily done. She could hardly hope to cast a spell right underneath a magelord-even a magelord in the throes of passion-without being heard.
And then she heard him grunt, above her head, and say, "Ahhh, yes, by all the gods! Now out, girl-out! I've work to do yet ere I sleep! Stay, mind-I'll be back out for you later!" The bolt was opened, and then the door, and then she heard both being put back again.
Elmara tensed under the bed. She had a few slaying spells- but a sphere of flames is little use if one wants to survive a fight in a small room… still less if one wants to do it without alerting a fortress full of armed men.
She also had something smaller; a fleshflame. Hmmm.
And then the curtains in front of her were jerked aside, and a kneeling man thrust his head in under the bed, seeking his riches.
He stared in amazement at Elmara, as her hands shot out and grasped his head by both ears, drawing her toward him.
"Greetings," she purred, murmured the few words that called up the magic, and kissed him.
Flame spat from her parted lips into the incoherently struggling magelord. He stiffened, clutched at her convulsively, and then sagged to the carpet, teeth clicking as his chin hit the floor.
Smoke drifted from the dead wizard's mouth and ears as she dragged the chest over to him, opened it again, and left him kneeling with his head in it. When he was found, perhaps they'd think something inside it slew him.
Coolly, Elmara rose from under the bed. The door was closed and bolted. Good. She ducked back under the bed, and took out the spellbook.