Elminster_ The Making of a Mage - Ed Greenwood [30]
Elminster looked up with his mouth full but his eyebrows raised. The innkeeper nodded. "Aye, the lands down there have always been rich, and crowded-fair crawling with folk. The greatest realm is Calimshan; the place those dusky-skinned merchants with their heads wrapped, who come here all bundled up in furs in spring and fall, come from."
"I've never seen them," Elminster said quietly.
The innkeeper scratched at his mustache. "You have been hidden away, lad. Well, to tell the tale short, there's a huge lawless land north of Calimshan, all forests and rivers, where their nobles always go to hunt game-or went, that is. An archmage- that's a wizard stronger by far than these magelords-" Broarn paused to spit thoughtfully on the dead wizard at his feet"-set himself up there and now rules most of it. The Calishar, it used to be called; I know not if he's renamed it, as he seems bent on changing all else. The Mad Mage, they call him, because he chases his whims so fiercely, and doesn't care about what he destroys in the doing; Ilhundyl's his name. Since he claimed the land, all the folk as didn't want to be turned into frogs and falcons have moved on-north, most of them."
Elminster sighed. "It sounds as if there's nowhere in all the world at peace from mages."
Broarn smiled. "It feels that way, my lord, it does. If you must hide from the magelords, go up the Unicorn Run, deep into the High Forest. They fear the Fair Folk will rise against them there, and they're right on that… the elves fear to lose more land to the axes of Athalantar and will fight for every tree. If you need to hide only from armsmen, Wyrm Wood right behind us here will do-they fear dragons. The mages know better; they slew the last dragon hereabout-and took its hoard-some twenty winters gone, but can't get us simple folk to believe that."
Elminster smiled. "And if I want to stand and fight? How can I best a wizard?"
Broarn spread his large and hairy hands. "Learn-or hire- stronger magic."
El shook his head. "How would ye trust anyone stronger in magic than magelords? What's to stop them from just taking the throne themselves after they've slain these wizards?"
The innkeeper nodded and gave Elminster a nod of approval. "A point, aye. Well, the other way is much slower and less sure."
Elminster leaned forward on the stool, and swept his hand up in a beckoning wave. "So tell."
"Work from within, as a rat gnaws away in the pantry."
"How does a man become a rat?"
"Steal. Be a thief in the back streets and the low taverns and the markets of Hastarl, close to the wizards' backsides, and wait and watch and learn. Warriors have to stand tall and wave blades… and be seen and slain by any mageling that points a wand their way, and outlaws must needs come out to seize food all too often. You've probably seen enough of the wilderlands of your realm to satisfy your curiosity. 'Tis time to learn the ways of the city, of thieving. It prepares one for ruling, some say." He lifted a corner of his mouth at his own jest. "Besides, a warrior's way is no more nor less safe than being a thief; any man can be overcome if caught alone-as you learned tonight-and if you wait long enough…"
El grinned like a wolf over dinner, rose, and took hold of the magelord's legs. "Have ye a shovel?"
Broarn returned the look. "Aye, and a nice warm manure pile to dig with it, Prince." They clasped each other's arms, as one warrior to another.
*****
"At least get some more food into you before you move on," Broarn grunted, handing a tray into the end stall.
Elminster took it; steam and a delicious smell were rising together from a bowl on the tray. "Nay," he said, "I should