Elminster_ The Making of a Mage - Ed Greenwood [75]
"The other," he said simply. She let her healed foot fall and extended the other to him. Again the pain fled. "You've given the forest blood," he said, "which satisfies a ritual some find unpleasant." His grip on her heel became stronger, and he made a surprised sound and let her foot fall.
A moment later-he moved like soundless liquid, or a smooth-flowing shadow-the elf was kneeling by her head. "Allow me," he said, and added, "Lie still." Elmara felt his fingers touch her lightly over each eye, and linger there… and slowly, very slowly, the ache in her head subsided, the pain stealing away.
With it went all her weariness, and she was suddenly alert, eager, and awake. "Wh-My thanks, sir-what did you do?"
"Several things. I used simple magic, what you'll need to learn first. Then I winced at being called 'sir' and waited patiently to be called 'Braer' and seen as a person, not some sort of magic-wielding monster." The words were lightly spoken beside her ear, but Elmara felt her answer was very important.
She raised her head slowly, to find those eyes staring into hers from only a finger's-length away. "Please forgive me, Braer. Will ye be-my friend?" Impulsively, she leaned forward and kissed the face she could barely see. The elf's eyes blinked into hers as her lips touched-a sharp-boned nose.
Braer did not pull away. His lips did not meet hers, but a moment later Elmara felt soft fingers stroke the length of her chin. "That's better, daughter of a prince. Now sleep."
El was falling down, down into a void of warm darkness before she even had time to wonder how Braer knew his-her-father had been a prince… perhaps, she managed to think, as whispering mists rose in her mind, all Faerun knew it…
*****
"You began as all younglings do: awed by magic. Then you learned to fear it, and hate those who wielded it. After a time, you saw its usefulness as a weapon too powerful to ignore. Mastering it or finding a shield against it then became a necessity."
Braer fell silent and leaned forward, watching intently as blue mage-fire danced at the tips of Elmara's fingers. He gestured, and obediently she made the fire move up and down each finger in turn, racing along her tingling skin.
"You wonder now why I waste so much of your brief life with a child's playing about with magic," Braer said flatly. "It's not to make you familiar with it. You are that, already. It's to make you love magic, for itself, not for what you can do with it."
"Why," Elmara asked in the elven manner, reflected fire dancing in her eyes as her gaze met his, "should a man or a maid love magic?"
Her teacher remained silent, as he did all too often for her liking. They looked into each other's eyes until finally she added, "I would think that leads to bent men who wall themselves up in little rooms and become crabbed and crazed, chasing some elusive spell or detail of magecraft, and wasting their lives away."
"In some, it does," Braer agreed. "But love of magic is more necessary for those who worship Mystra-priests of the goddess, if you will, though most see no difference between such folk and mages-than it is for wizards. One must love magic to properly revere magic."
Elmara frowned a little. There were a few gray hairs in her long, unruly black mane now; she'd studied magic for two winters through at Braer's side, praying to Mystra each night… without reply. Hastarl and her days as a thief seemed almost a dream to her now, but she could still remember the faces of the magelords she'd seen.
"Some folk worship out of fear. Is their respect any the less?"
The elf nodded. "It is," he said simply, "even if they do not know it." He rose, as smooth and silent as ever. "Now put away that fire and come and help me find evenfeast."
He strode away through the trees, knowing she'd follow. Elmara rose, smiled a little, and did so. They spent their days thus, talking while she practiced magic under his direction, and then foraging