Elminster_ The Making of a Mage - Ed Greenwood [137]
Myrjala nodded. "And so?" she asked quietly.
"We need allies to fight with us," El said, "but who?" He stared at the table in frowning silence.
Myrjala took up her tankard again and stared thoughtfully at her reflection in it. "You've said more than once you wanted fitting justice to befall the magelords," she said carefully. "What could be more right than calling on the elves of the High Forest, and the thieves in Hastarl, and Helm and his knights? 'Tis their realm you're fighting to free, too."
Elminster started to shake his head, then grew very still, as his eyes slowly narrowed. "Ye're right," he said in a small voice. "Why am I always so blind?"
"Lack of attention; I've told you before," Myrjala said crisply-and when he looked at her in irritation, she grinned at him and extended gentle fingers to stroke one of his hands. After a moment, El smiled back at her.
"I'll have to travel about the realm cloaked in magic and speak to them," he said slowly, thinking it through, "because they know ye not." He sipped ale again. "And as a magelord may notice me and 'tis never wise to reveal all one's strengths too soon, ye'd best stay out of sight."
The dark-eyed sorceress nodded. "Yet in case the magelords come down on you in earnest, I'd best accompany you-in other shapes than my own, of course-to fight at your side if need be."
El smiled at her. "I'd not want to be parted from ye now, to be sure. Should we try to raise the common folk of the realm to our cause?" Then he answered his own question. "Nay, they'd flee before the first spell hurled against them, and once roused would strike out blindly until as much ruin is spread across the realm as if enraged magelords were using spells without restraint… and whether we won or lost, they'd die by the hundreds, like sheep led to slaughter."
Myrjala nodded. "You were first trained in magic by the elves… they would seem the most important allies to gain."
El frowned. "They use their magic to aid, nurture, and reshape, not to blast things in battle."
Myrjala lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "If all you're seeking in allies is folk to stand beside you and add battle-spells to your own, much of the realm will be riven in the struggle. You need to find folk with strengths you lack… and their decision to aid you or not will shape everything; you need to know if they'll stand with you before you contact the others. Moreover, you know where to find the elves… with less likelihood of a mage-lord watching than in Hastarl or the Horn Hills."
Elminster nodded. "Good sense. When should we begin?"
"Now," Myrjala replied crisply.
They traded grins. A moment later, two tankards settled onto an empty table. The tavernkeeper, frowning anxiously, hurried over to the sound-and glumly collected the two tankards from the bare board. They rattled.
He peered in. A silver coin lay at the bottom of each. He brightened, shrugged, and tipped the coins, sticky with beer-foam, into his hand. Juggling them, he headed back for the bar. These wizards' coins'd spend as well as any… and as fast, more's the pity…
*****
El stopped when he came to the little knoll in the heart of the High Forest, knelt and murmured a prayer to Mystra, and then sat down on the flat stone beside the little pool. Almost immediately his spell-shield flickered as something unseen-an elf, no doubt-tested it, seeking to learn who he was. El stood, looking around at the duskwood, shadowtop, and blueleaf trees that pressed close about the knoll. "Well met!" he called cheerfully and sat down again.
In patient silence he waited, so long a time that even an elf could grow restive. From the gloom beneath the trees strode a silent elf in mottled green, a strung bow in his hand. His face was still, but his eyes were not friendly.
"Magelords aren't welcome here," he said, setting a shaft to his bow.
Elminster made no