Elminster's Daughter

He spun around suddenly, and an unseen, irresistable force took hold of Narnra's throat and wrists and plucked her off her feet, torch and all, before she could so much as gasp.

"And ye, little Masked One? How much did ye think, before ye plunged through that gate on my heels, hmm? Or are ye so young that adventure dazzles ye into plunging after it?"

Narna Shalace found herself hanging in the throbbing air, faint white mists of sheer power roiling around her, looking down at the wryly smiling, bearded face of the old wizard.

She gasped for breath, finding herself suddenly sweating all over. Was that creeping numbness around her neck and ears his magic sliding into her mind? Was she going to end up sobbing and helpless, teeth chattering, tongue not her own? Would he slay her or leave her a half-wit, ruined by his magic?"

"I—I—I—"

"Are far too upset, Lady of the Night. I've no particular desire to work spell-murder right in front of the Mage Royal of Cormyr, who would then feel a duty to do something that could only get her hurt. All I want is something that should please us all: a sharing of the truth."

Blue-gray eyes gleamed up at hers. "The truth, lass, is a precious thing. Sharp, yes, all too rare in daily use, aye . . . and therefore all too precious. Are ye willing to deal in it?"

Narnra swallowed helplessly, stared down at him, and struggled to reply.

The Old Mage gazed back up at her and asked softly, "Or is it death ye'd prefer?"

Four

TRUTHS AS SHARP AS RAZORS

Nothing wounds so deeply as unwanted, unblunted truth.

Thauloamur Reerist, Minstrel

Clever Words From A Failed Jester

Year of the Prince

"That's not much of a choice to hand me—or anyone—is it?" Narnra snapped bitterly, anger rising in her to roll back the fear ... a little. "Do as I say, or I'll blast you to ashes or leave you forever drooling. How can you trust any 'truth' handed you under such menace?"

The old wizard shrugged. " 'Tis the same cruel choice most folk of power in this world hand to everyone else. Ye seem a bit too old, lass—especially considering the nature of thy nightly trade—to yet believe Faerun is a fair place. If ye truly do, ye're already a drooling idiot, whether ye admit it or not. I simply make choices blunter and clearer than many when I'm not in the mood for wasting overmuch time on tongue-fencing or frivolity. I'm not in the mood right now. I like Cormyr and have seen so many of these idiot rebellions in the making: the 'making' always seems to involve the deaths of many good and even some i

"And that's supposed to make me willing and obedient?" Narnra snarled.

"Nay, but a hope to survive this night should. 'Prudence,' I believe 'tis still called. Ye came back down here seeking my gate and a way home out of all this, did ye not? I'm the only way through it ye know, am I not? I'll be a trifle more willing to be helpful to someone who tried to rob and slay me in a dead-end alley not so long ago if she now tries to deal with me in at least a civil ma

The Waterdhavian lass drew in a deep, defeated breath. Despairing yet still furious, she sighed, took another shuddering gulp of air, and growled, "So ask your questions. I'll try to keep to the truth."

"Prudent," the wizard agreed calmly. "If, that is, ye wish to keep me to truth-reading and not mind-forcing ye, as I started to do to Thauvas, there. He learned wisdom quickly."

Narnra tossed her head. "Ask," she repeated quietly, hanging helpless in midair.

The mists around her glowed with sudden light, a flash of radiance that died away as abruptly as it had come.

Her captor turned his head quickly to look out into the darkness. "Caladnei, please just watch and listen and pretend ye're not here for a bit, eh? Vangerdahast will be most a

From the darkness came only silence, but after a long, motionless time the old bearded mage added quietly, "Thank ye."

He turned his head to look up at Narnra and asked, "Thy full, proper name, lass, is—?"

Gods, his nose is an even sharper hawk-beak than mine. Narnra looked down into those bright blue eyes—more blue than gray now, as his magic surged around them—and said steadily, "Narnra Shalace. My mother was Maerjanthra Shalace, a jeweler of Waterdeep. My father I never knew."

Bushy brows arched. "Maerjanthra, eh? I knew a Maerjanthra Shalace of Waterdeep, years back—a sorceress for hire, not a jeweler." He regarded his floating captive thoughtfully. " 'Tis not a common name. Describe her, as she is today."

Narnra let him see her fury as she spat, "A few bones, some dust, and probably a tangle of what's left of her hair—in a bonepit outside the walls of Waterdeep. She's dead, wizard."

The old wizard's face was unreadable. "I see. Yet in life, she had dark hair and eyes like thine?"

"Yes," Narnra said flatly, volunteering nothing more.

"How did she die?"

"I don't know. Murdered with magic, I think, but by whom, I've no idea—or they or I would be dead now."

"I see. Have ye kin?"

"No. Unless my father yet lives."

"And what know ye of him?"

The thief shrugged. "He was a man. A powerful wizard, I was told."

"By whom?"

"My mother's apprentices—gemcutters, all long fled. They were drunk when they said that."

"Mother dead, apprentices fled—where d'ye live now?"

Narnra shrugged. "The rooftops. By the warm chimneys in winter. The City of the Dead, mostly, in summer."

"Alone?"

"Alone."

"And ye earn coins enough to eat by—?"

"Stealing. As you know."

"For or with anyone?"

"Alone."

"Any friends?"

"No."

"Folk ye sell stolen things to?"

"Many."

"Name some of them."

Narnra stared into the old wizard's eyes and said evenly, "Dock Ward holds many men who ask no questions about where something came from—and take care that they know nothing about whoever's selling it. If the Watch confronts them, they always say they just found it, tossed into their yard—or window—that morning. In turn, I take care not to ask or know their names. "Tis the accepted way of such business dealings."

The mage nodded, as if remembering things far away and long ago. "Truth rides on thy tongue well."

"So reward me."

"With?"

"My freedom. The way back."

The old wizard smiled. "High payment for a few civil answers. I'll have more before we advance so boldly into rewarding, hmm?"

Narnra shrugged again. "The power to dictate," she observed flatly, "remains yours."

The wizard below her grew a sudden grin, and from beyond the mists came a faint, swiftly suppressed sound that might have been a Mage Royal's chuckle.

"Are ye a member of any guild?"

"No."

"On any rolls?"

"No."

"Pay taxes?"

Narnra made an incredulous sound. The old wizard gri

"No. I can see and hear that you're an old man and a powerful mage, yes, but no more."

The old wizard nodded, strolled a few paces away, spun around, and snapped, "What do ye do with thy days?"

"Steal. Sleep. Spy on folk to steal from. Steal. Sell what I've gained and use the coins to buy food. Eat. Flee the Watch. Steal some more."

"What happened to your mother's shop? House? Goods?"

"Snatched, seized, and spirited away, the moment the city knew she was dead, thank you for asking," Narnra said coldly. "Some slave-seeking noble sent his men after me."