The Simbul's gift - Lynn Abbey [13]
"A child, El. Is that so much?"
Alassra's mouth was still open when she shook her head with dismay. Of course it was a lot to ask of any man, to stand paternity for her child. It was, all things considered, a lot to ask of any child, especially if that child inherited anything of her temperament… or Elminster's.
"Mystra," Alassra whispered softly, but, she didn't need a goddess to tell her why she wanted a child. "Is it so wrong to want to see myself reflected in my child's eyes? Is it so wrong to want to see the world again the way it was when I was a child?"
Apparently, it was. Elminster, whose affection and good opinion Alassra valued above all else and whose other qualifications were superb, refused her request to come to Velprintalar. They gamboled in Shadowdale, Evermeet, and another score of places but not once, since she'd broached the subject last year, in Velprintalar.
"I told you what I wanted because I didn't want to trick you. I won't hold you responsible!" she shouted-at absent Elminster, not Mystra, though she absolved the goddess, too.
Mystra had deliberately created Alassra and her sisters. First, the goddess had selected Dornal to be the father of her Chosen Ones, then she'd possessed Elue Shundar and married them together. They produced seven daughters in as many years. In the six centuries since then, the goddess had welcomed only thirteen grandchildren-and all but one of them were Alustriel's half-elf sons, the Aerasume.
Alassra had considered herself unalterably barren. It was only recently, when her sister Dove gave birth to a healthy, human son that her hopes had been reborn. Even so, they remained slim: she'd used too much magic, visited too many uncanny places to believe that simply wanting a child would ever be enough.
"I won't hold you responsible," Alassra repeated, more softly this time, "no matter what."
She began retrieving the parchments her outburst had scattered. When she'd collected them into an almost-tidy pile, her mind was calm enough to face the mirror again and continue her investigations. Quicksilver was creeping up the crystal when a bronze chime sounded in the palace's audience chamber and, by associated magic, in the back of Alassra's mind. The quicksilver flew away from the dome. Most of it fell back into the shining pool, but a few poisonous drops struck her skin where they clung and burned.
"What now?" she demanded.
Her voice scattered the parchment again and stunned whichever palace servant had stuck the chime. With a curse that made the parchment sheets fall like stones, Alassra reached for a gnarled staff. She spoke three simple words and a heartbeat later was standing in front of the Verdigris Throne. It was her usual way of answering a summons, but it never failed to leave her household retainers flat-footed and gaping.
"Happy birthday, Honored Aunt," her guest, whose arrival had caused the summons, said with a smile.
He was tall, hearty, and wondrously pale; one of the Aerasume, Alustriel's sons who'd dedicated their lives to their mother. He wore a red signet ring on the third finger of his left hand; that meant his name was Boesild, or possibly Tarthilmor. Alassra could do almost anything except keep the names of her sister's twelve sons straight. Perhaps if she'd known them better, she could have told them apart. But she hadn't known them or their mother until after she'd lost Lailomun, after Mystra confronted her with her heritage.
There was no polite way to ask his name, and Alassra Shentrantra, the storm queen who'd face a basilisk with nerves of steel, had a phobic fear of being impolite to her still-unfamiliar family.
She said, "Thank you, Honored Nephew," and hoped he'd think she was following his example. Then she took the gift he offered, a bouquet of fragile snow-flowers.
"From my mother," he added, unnecessarily: Where else but in Silverymoon could anyone grow snow-flowers, and who but Alustriel could grow them in high summer? "I sent my gift directly to the palace kitchen: a fresh-caught string of bluefish. I remember you said they were your