Shadows of Doom - Ed Greenwood [5]
Yet the Old Mage cared for all who reached out to his mind this eve, and none of them were unfriendly or unperceptive. They knew he carried a terrible measure of power he did not know how to call on. Worse, they all knew his own Art, or at least his means of grasping magic, was gone. They knew, too, that he was very tired and wanted to be alone.
One by one they wished him well and withdrew. Soft soothings echoed and re-echoed in his mind. Elminster felt their own weariness, bewilderment, and fear for Mystra and for the fate of them all, and had no comfort to give. He saluted them as they parted, until at last-as he knew would happen-only one thought-voice remained, riding his mind with the easy familiarity of intimacy.
Nethreen. Lady most mine. Elminster let her feel his gratefulness. I am right glad of thy company.
I know, Lord, came the calm reply. I know. I was ever lonely until I came to thee and found another I could trust.
Elminster smiled in the darkness, and then hastily caught his pipe as it fell. I love thee, Lady.
And I thee, Lord. Stop all this formal fencing, El. We're alone now, and you're in perhaps the worst danger you've ever really faced. Have you decided what to do next?
Elminster's sigh slid into a rueful grin. No. I've thought, but not decided. I was hoping-
That between us all, we'd decide on a path for your feet? came the dry reply. That is not laid on through life for any of us, Old Mage. You of all folk know that well. The rebuke was lost in the same ruefulness that Elminster felt, shared for a moment before it faded. When the Simbul spoke again, her mind-voice was gentle. Will you come to me? There is a hidden place deep in the Yuirwood, a refuge I've used before, as others of Aglarond did before me.
Nay, Lady. Elminster's feelings were firm and certain about this, at least. This danger is, as ye say, mine to face. Moreover, I menace any mage I am near. Even if I did not love thee, Aglarond needs thee against the spite and greed of Thay, whose meddling mages would be that much closer to me in thy refuge than they are now.
Right now, all who learn of your misfortune and would do you ill know exactly where to find you, Nethreen reminded him sharply. Don't misthink yourself into a grave, my lord! Her mental tone shifted into curiosity. Why are you a danger to any mage? Are you afraid the power in you will tempt me, or another like me?
Elminster's reply was subdued. I know not if Mystra's power will leak from me. Mayhap it will be unleashed in some sort of magical blast. In either case, it may destroy any mages near, or render them feeble witted or dead to Art as I am now.
Moreover, I am sure to attract the overly ambitious, if ever my fate becomes known. I would not want ye to face hourly visits from the likes of Ghalaster of Thay; that Calishite, Murdrimm the Hierarchmage; or Manshoon, backed by all his Zhentarim. One or a number of them, working against thee or me, might taste too much of Tymora's good fortune. Those who would seize Mystra's power will do anything, and more than anything, to get it.
What must we do, then? The Simbul's voice seemed close to tears.
If ye would help me, Elminster replied carefully, feeling his way as he spoke to her, watch over Mourngrym-and Randal Morn in Daggerdale-as I have done, and help the Harpers as best ye can. Storm will tell thee how. I need thee to take on my tasks while I am unable to do them-if ye deem the doing necessary and good, for I will not tell thee how to judge, or that I have been right in what I've done.
There was a little silence, and then the reply came, soft as a falling feather. I will, Old Mage. Remember that I love thee. That was all, and she was gone.
Elminster sat alone again in the night, waiting for moonrise.
He could not see the silent tears the lady in the tattered black gown shed then. Far away, in the highest room in a night-cloaked tower in Aglarond, the Simbul wept for her doomed lord. She hated to