Elminster's Daughter

The scrolls rose in unison and drifted toward Huldyl in the wake of the sugarnuts, which the War Wizard gobbled more of hastily, wiping his sugar-coated fingers nervously on the front of his tunic.

Harnrim Starangh leaned forward over the table with an eagerness that matched his own. "I hereby reaffirm my earlier promise: the same amount of cash and seven more very useful spells will be yours when I've safely reached Vangerdahast and gotten away again."

Rauthur fielded the scrolls with a chuckle, eyes alight. "I'm your man, Lord Starangh, I am indeed. This is ... princely."

"Prince," the Red Wizard purred. "Now there's a title to aspire to. You could, you know, if you time things right and use just the right spells to tame Alusair to your will and bed. After she delivers you an heir, there'd be no need to sit still for the searing of her tongue any longer. A little spell-blast, a lot of mourning, and you could then do as her father did: have your pick of all the women in the kingdom."

The War Wizard's chuckle was a weak one, this time, and he shook his head, shrugged, and said, "Lord, you've more boldness in you than I do." He shook his head again, in admiration. "Wouldn't that be something, though . . ."

Darkspells let him ponder for a moment or two then said gently, "To bind the trust between us, I'll now complete that linking spell . . . if you're agreed?"

"A-aye," Rauthur replied, in a low voice. He ran a hand through the thi

"Of course." the Red Wizard said gravely, watching the last of the sugarnuts hastily disappearing down Rauthur's gullet.

"Things that befall one of us also befall the other, at the same time. These shared fates are drunke

Huldyl Rauthur smiled rather uncertainly and grunted, "My thanks, Lord. Do it."

Starangh nodded and beckoned the War Wizard over to him, rising from his chair to hold up both hands, palms outward and fingers together. Hesitantly Rauthur set aside the scrolls and held out his own hands to match.

Palms touched. The Thayan nodded approvingly and murmured a short incantation, awakening a tingling in them both that left their forearms shuddering as they stepped back from each other.

"I'm ready to proceed when you deem the time is right. Contact me at any time of day or night. I'll be pleased if you guide me through the defenses of Vangerdahast's sanctum to him sooner rather than later, if you take my meaning."

"I-I do," Rauthur assured him hastily.

Harnrim Starangh smiled thinly. "Just one thing more, Prince-to-be Huldyl. If this linking spell between us is broken, I'll instantly be aware of that and of your whereabouts at the time—and may well be forced, for reasons of prudent diplomacy, you understand, to strike out from afar with slaying magic to obliberate Huldyl Rauthur and whoever helped you remove the spell."

His smile widened and stayed broad and promising as the man called Darkspells silently faded away.

Leaving Huldyl Rauthur standing alone in the Harbortower turret, shivering in fear, with The Wanton Witch Said Yes lying fallen at his feet.

Fourteen

NARNRA TAKES A TASK

Well, we all have to work at SOMEthing—even the gods. So pick up that bucket, and let's have no more of your backtalk.

The character Farmer Juth

in Scene the Third

of the play Troubles In The Cellar

by Shanra Mereld of Mura

first performed in the Year of the Griffon

A small, bright, and airy turret thrusts up from one corner of the Palace of the Purple Dragon in Suzail: a lone chamber whose four windows are open arches that breezes blow through at will but no bird nor raindrop enters.

The door that links that turret room to a corner of the top floor of the Palace stands open—and guarded by four veteran Purple Dragons—at all times. The turret had for some years been an abandoned dovecote before the coming of Caladnei but was now a place much used by the Mage Royal to think and pace and gaze out over courtyard and gardens, and think some more.

Caladnei of Cormyr (as she pointedly preferred to be spoken of) often teleported into and out of her turret room—but she'd never been known to do so in the company of anyone else before, and the guards were quite startled to suddenly hear the deep, hearty laugh of a fearless old man from behind them.

They whirled around, spearpoints glittering, and gaped at what they saw: the Mage Royal embracing a hawk-nosed, white-bearded old man in dirty robes. Caladnei was weeping softly, and the old wizard—whom more than one of the old warriors had seen before—cradled her shoulders with a protective arm, saying softly, "There, there, lass. 'Tis overwhelming, aye, but a sight all mages should see in their lives before they've too much time to do foolish things unmindful of the glory we all share."

"Uh . . . Lady Caladnei?" one of the guards asked uncertainly, lifting his spear to menace the old man.

"Lord Elminster!" the eldest of the guards said delightedly, clapping a hand to his breastplate in salute. The gesture was echoed by the guard beside him, as the other two Purple Dragons turned to gape at their fellows . . . then turned back in horrified slowness to gaze at the old man they were menacing.

Bright blue eyes gazed at them from under dark brows, and the Old Mage nodded, winked, and lifted a finger to his lips to request their silence ere gesturing down at the sobbing woman in his arms. The two guards who'd saluted him nodded and pushed aside the spears of their fellows, silently withdrawing a pace. Elminster gave them an approving nod.

"T-thank you, Lord Elm—"

"El, please, lass. Just 'El.' Or 'Old Mage' if ye want to scold me." He took hold of the Mage Royal's slender shoulders and stood her back a pace, to look gravely into her tear-bright face. "How do ye feel?"

Caladnei managed a smile, and then swiftly looked away . . . then, deliberately, back up at him.

"Sobered. Shaken. And, may I say, vastly more respectful of you and of Vangerdahast, too, damn him. I ... thank you. That was . . . magnificent."

"Much to think upon, eh?" Elminster reached out two long fingers to touch her forehead. "This much I can do: make sure nothing fades of this. Ye'll remember everything we saw, vividly, whenever ye call it to mind. This shall be with ye always."

Caladnei shook her head wonderingly. "What a ... a ..."

Elminster chuckled. "Storm called it a 'whirlwind tour,' but I've shown ye but a handful of highlights from all this vast and wonderful world of ours. 'Twas time for ye. Ye needed it to set in perspective this fair land ye guard and to temper thy rage with Vangey. Know ye this: When I took him to see the same things, he wept even more than ye have, begged forgiveness for his rudenesses, and told me he was shamed."

"I—I feel I should do the same," Caladnei said with an unsteady laugh, ducking her head and looking up at him again.

Elminster recoiled. "What? And rob thyself of the chance to get in some really good rudenesses to me, first?"

The sorceress burst into startled laughter and clung to the old man's robes for support. He hugged her fondly then—the eyes of the watching Purple Dragons narrowed—reached down to his belt, fishing around in a pouch there for something.