Shadows of Doom - Ed Greenwood [23]
"Old Mage," she said as she rejoined Elminster, "let us make haste. I do not think it wise to tarry here overlong."
"And ye are right," he agreed grandly. Sharantyr was raising an annoyed eyebrow and parting her lips to speak before he slowly winked.
"It's a wonder," the lady ranger murmured to the guard, as she bent over to take him by the armpits and drag him around behind the glowing gate, "why anyone puts up with archmages long enough to let them reach their advanced powers. You'd think a lot more of them would be drowned or strangled-or have their tongues torn out by the roots-before they'd been a year or two at their studies."
The guard, flopping limply and heavily in her grasp, did not reply.
* * * * *
Elminster seemed to take a very long time getting ready to question the last guard. Sharantyr had removed the man's gauntlets, helm, and belt, using the latter to tie his hands together. After examining the mage's body thoroughly for hidden weapons or items that might be magical, she dumped it atop the guard, pinning his arms and midsection under its weight. Elminster nodded approvingly but kept on examining their booty, muttering to himself and making faces.
At length he opened both vials, sniffed them with the air of a connoisseur, tasted what his fingertip found of both, and said, "These heal, and as far as I can tell do naught else. Ye carry them both, for ye may well have more need of them." He grinned reassuringly and said, "Carry the mage's ring, also, but do not put it on. Keep it hidden in thy belt, to show as a token from him should we need such a ruse. We dare not try to use it."
Sharantyr took the proffered items and laid a hand on the Old Mage's arm. Her eyes were dark and serious.
"Elminster," she asked, "should you be getting into this sort of struggle-with mages you do not know and gates that go you know not where-in your present, ah, vulnerable condition?"
Elminster glared at her for a moment and shrugged, "Ye're young yet, Shar. Ye can't know. 'Tis not pride that makes me poke my nose into all affairs of Art that I come across. 'Tis what I am and what I do. When ye live as long as I have and have seen thy friends, foes, and homes all swept away, one after another, with the endless passing years, all that is left is what ye believe in and strive for. I dare not stay in Shadowdale, to bring danger down on it, but I'll not run away to cower or hide, daring nothing."
He patted her hand where it rested on his arm, to gently pulled free to face her. "Crawl off into a hole and die before I'm dead? Nay, this is what I stand for, and what I'll do."
Sharantyr nodded. "I meant no offense. I'm sorry. I wanted to learn your will, ere we were swept away into battles again."
Elminster grinned suddenly. "And I've told thee, as usual. Thy ears must grow very weary of my voice."
Sharantyr smiled faintly. "Such words would never pass my lips," she said with affected dignity. Then she added slyly, "but I often think them. Love stays my tongue."
" 'Tis a rare love that does that," Elminster said feelingly. He chuckled and said, "Shall we slap this fellow awake and treat ye to more of my tongue?"
Sharantyr grinned. "We shall. I'm getting too old to need sleep at night."
Elminster winced. "I'll be as swift as I can be." He laid a warning finger on his lips to bid her be silent. Unclipping his belt flask, he held it upside down over the guard's head, loosening the stopper so that a thin stream splashed on the man's forehead and ran down into his eyes.
The warrior shuddered, wrinkled his eyes convulsively. He snorted and awoke, knuckling his eyes and moaning.
"Well met," Elminster said briskly. "Thy name?"
"Mulser," the man said, and groaned. "I-it burns inside!"
"Those who defy the lords of Zhentil Keep must pay the price," Elminster said sharply. "This gate ye came here by, where does it lead?"
"Zhentil-? You are of the Brotherhood?"
"Aye," Elminster said solemnly. "My name is both near and dear to Lord Manshoon.