Elminster_ The Making of a Mage - Ed Greenwood [82]
"I've learned how to hate, steal, grieve, and kill," she said. "I hope there's more to being a priestess of Mystra than that."
The wrinkled old mouth crooked. "For many, not much more. Let's see if we can do better with thee." She looked down at the bed in front of her and tapped thoughtfully at the loose earth.
"What must I do to begin?" Elmara asked, looking down at the dirt. There seemed to be nothing of interest there, but perhaps the priestess meant that she should tend plants, as Braer had wanted her to learn the ways of the woods. She looked around… hadn't there been a shovel thrust into the earth nearby?
As if the old woman could read her thoughts (as of course she doubtless could, El thought wryly) the priestess shook her head. "After all these years," she said, "I've learned how to do this right, lass. The last thing I need is eager but careless hands mucking in or a young, impatient tongue asking me questions morn and even through. Nay, get ye gone."
"Gone?"
"Go and walk the world, lass; Mystra doesn't gather toothless, chanting men or maids to kneel to stones carved in her seeming. All Faerun around us is Mystra's true temple."
She waved a bony hand. "Go and do as I bid, thus; and listen well, lass. Learn from mages, without yourself taking the title or spellhurling habits of a wizard. Spread word of the power of magic, its mysteries and lore; make folk you meet hunger to work magic themselves, and give those who seem most eager a taste of spellcasting, for no more payment than food and a place to sleep. Make maids and men into mages."
El frowned doubtfully. "How shall I know when I'm doing right-is there anything I should not do?"
The priestess shook her head. "Be guided by your own heart-but know that Mystra forbids nothing. Go and experience everything that can befall a man and a maid in Faerun. Everything"
El frowned again. Slowly, she turned away.
That sharp voice came again. "Sit down and eat first, fool-head. Bitterness lends the weak-witted wings… always try to make a stop to eat into a time to think, and you'll think more in a season than most think in all their days."
Elmara smiled slightly, threw her cloak back, and sat, reaching for the shoulder sack Braer had given her.
The old woman shook her head again and snapped her fingers. Out of nowhere, a wooden platter of steaming greens appeared in front of El. Then a silver fork blinked into being above it and hung motionless in the air.
Reluctantly El reached out for it.
The old woman snorted. "Frightened of a little magic? A fine advocate of Mystra you'll be."
"I-have seen magic used to slay and destroy and rule through fear," Elmara said slowly. "Wherefore I'm wary of it." She took firm hold of the fork. "I did not choose to look upon Mystra-she came to me."
"Then be more grateful; some wizards dream of seeing her all their lives and die disappointed." The white-haired head bent to regard the dirt again. "If you hate or fear magic so much, why have you come here?"
Silence stretched. "To do a thing I am sworn to do," Elmara said finally, "I'll need strong magic… and to understand what it is I wield."
"Well, then… eat, and get you going. Mind you try some of that thinking I suggest."
"Thinking of-what?"
"That, I leave to you. Remember, Mystra forbids nothing."
"Think… of everything?"
" 'Twould be a welcome change."
*****
The old woman watched until the young maid in the cloak was gone through the trees. Then she went on watching; a few trees were nothing to her.
Finally she turned and walked to the temple, growing as she went, her shape shifting and rising until a tall and shapely lady in shimmering, iridescent robes strolled to the temple door. She turned once more to look where Elmara had gone. Her eyes were dark and yet golden, and little flames danced in them.
"Seen enough?" The voice from the darkness within the door was a deep rumble.
Mystra tossed her head; long, glossy hair slithered and danced. "This could be the one. His mind has the width, and his heart the depth."
The temple rippled,