Elminster_ The Making of a Mage - Ed Greenwood [69]
Elminster spun around to look at the magelord. The wizard stood as still as the rest, golden flames flickering before his staring eyes. His mouth was open, and his hands raised in the gestures of a spell… but he moved not.
What had befallen?
The flame pulsed and twisted. Elminster whirled back to face its changing flickering, and it shaped itself into someone… someone tall and dark robed and shapely, who strolled calmly over to stand by the brazier. A human woman… a sorceress?
Eyes of molten gold met his, and little flames danced in them. "Hail, Elminster Aumar, prince of Athalantar."
Elminster took a pace back, shocked. No, he'd never seen this great lady before-or anyone so beautiful. He swallowed. "Who are ye?"
"One who has been watching you for years, hoping to see great things," came the reply.
Elminster swallowed again.
The lady's eyes held dark depths of mystery, and her voice had a musical lilt. She smiled and raised an empty hand-and suddenly, she held a metal scepter. Lights pulsed and winked down its length. Elminster had never seen anything of the like before, but it blazed with blue mage-fire in his gaze, and its very look shouted that it held power.
"With this," the lady said quietly, "you can destroy all your foes here at once. Merely will it and speak the word graven on the grip."
She released the scepter, which rose a little and then drifted smoothly through the air toward Elminster. He watched it come, eyes narrow, then snatched it out of the air. Silent power shuddered in his grasp. Elminster felt it crackle and roil around in him, and his face brightened. He raised it, turning to face the motionless armsmen, feeling a fierce exultation rising in him. The lady watched him. He stood still for a long moment, then carefully bent and set the scepter down on the stone floor at his feet.
"Nay," he said, lifting his eyes to meet hers, " 'twould not be right, to use magic against men who are helpless. That's just what I'm fighting against, Lady."
"Oh?" She raised her head to stare at him in sudden challenge. "Are you afraid of it?"
Elminster shrugged. "A little." He watched her steadily. "More afraid of what I'd do wrongly. Thy scepter burns with power; such magic could do much ill if used carelessly. I'd rather not see the Realms laid waste by mine own hand." He shook his head. "Wielding a little power can be… pleasure. No one should have too much."
"What is 'too much'?"
"For me, Lady, anything. I hate magic. A mage slew my parents, on a whim, it seems, or for an afternoon's entertainment. He destroyed a village in less time than it takes me to tell ye what befell. No man should be able to do that."
"Is magic, then, evil?"
"Yes," Elminster snapped, then looked upon her beauty and said, "or perhaps not-but its power twists men to indulge evil."
"Ah," she replied. "Is a sword evil?"
"Nay, Lady-but dangerous. Not all folk should have them to hand."
"Oh? Who is to stop tyrants-and magelords-then?"
Elminster frowned angrily. "Ye seek to trick me with clever words, Lady!"
"Nay," came the soft reply. "I seek to make you think before you offer your own clever words and quick, sure judgments. I ask again: is a sword evil?"
"Nay," Elminster said, "for a sword cannot think."
The lady nodded. "Is a plow evil?"
"Nay," Elminster replied, raising an eyebrow. "What mean ye?"
"If a blade is not evil, but may be used for evil, is not this scepter the same?"
Elminster frowned and shook his head slightly, but did not reply.
Those eyes of light held his steadily. "What if I offered this scepter to a wizard, an innocent apprentice in some other land, not a magelord? What would you say to that?"
Elminster felt anger rising in him. Was everyone who worked sorcery given to fencing with clever words? Why did they always toy with him, as if he were a child, or a beast to be slain or transformed with but a passing thought? "I would say against it, Lady. No one should use such a thing without knowing first how to use it-and knowing its work well enough to realize