Elminster in Hell

Three pairs of serious eyes met hers, and three intent faces nodded silently.

The Simbul stirred. She spoke into the table her cheek was pressed against, 'Is there any of that firequench swill left?'

After the laughter died away, Illistyl dared to lay tender, helping hands on perhaps the most powerful sorceress alive in Faerun, raising her and wiping her sweat-soaked brow. The Simbul smiled silent thanks, looked at them all, and said, 'Well-you know we failed. There's worse news.'

Jhessail and Shaerl both looked at her sharply. 'Tell,' the Lady of Shadowdale said simply.

'All Art in the Realms is going rogue,' the Simbul answered plainly. 'Everywhere, and for all who wield it- we can unleash it, but our control slips and snatches and most of the time is lacking entirely. Magic has gone wild, and we cannot stop it.'

Dread came and went on her white face. She reached thoughtfully for the decanter. 'Across Faerun,' she added, 'not a single mage, archmage, or hedge-wizard can rely on spells anymore.'

Illistyl, Shaerl, and Jhessail exchanged looks. Illistyl and Shaerl spoke together, framing the same question as one. 'In die name of all the gods, why?'

Storm answered softly, eyes on the flame of the nearest candle, 'That's just why-all the gods. They've been cast down into the Realms, to contend among us, struggling and striving as we do; Mystra among them. It's why Elminster's gone away.'

'Cast down?' Illistyl almost whispered. 'By whom? Who has such power?'

Storm spread her hands. 'In the oldest writings, he was called the Overgod, Nowadays, to those who know of him at all, he is 'The One Who is Hidden.' ' She smiled. 'If you meet him, you might ask his true name and aims- there are a lot of souls, mortal and divine alike, who'd like to know.'

Illistyl drew a deep, ragged breath, and then smiled. 'I'll get straight to work on it.' Her hands trembled as they reached for the decanter. It held far less when she put it back down.

Shaerl shook her head. 'Easy, lass, or we'll have to carry you back to the tower again.'

Illistyl crooked an eyebrow. 'Who, wench, will be carrying whom?'

Jhessail rose. 'Come, ladies,' she said. 'We've done enough harm this night. Storm needs her sleep, even if we do not.'

Storm thanked the mage with her eyes. Jhessail read the look and swept her companions swiftly out into the night.

As the candles died, one by one, the two sisters sat at the table unmoving, eyes faraway.

At last Storm moved unwilling lips. 'Did you see or feel anything when you reached for Shar? Anything at all?'

'No,' the Simbul said, staring down at her empty hands. 'Nothing. I was like the worst apprentice I have ever had-alone, wavering, helpless in the dark.'

'I saw three things, Sister,' came the eerie voice they had not expected to hear again. 'Fire, and tears, and stars-overhead, it seemed, though they were all mixed together. Our stars.'

Storm raised her head, and there were tears in her eyes. 'Sylune,' she said softly, 'my thanks. They are not dead, then.'

'Yet,' came the voice of Sylune's ghost dryly, 'yet.'

***

Storm stiffened above her cauldron, almost dropping her knife. 'There it is again,' she whispered. 'Sister, what's happening?'

Sylune was a silver shadow passing the firelight, just for a moment, ere gliding into gloom again. 'I know not, but I've mind-spoken Jhess and Illistyl, and both are restless- but know not why. Could it be a sign from the Lady?'

The Bard of Shadowdale frowned. 'She's never been so cryptic before!'

The ghostly figure of her sister smiled and faded away, leaving Storm staring at a bright copper pot. 'And that habit will stop her being so now? We'll think more on this later. For now, best get your gown on, Lady of the Harp- your first guests are on their way up your path right now!'

Storm Silverhand wiped her hands dry, cursed cheerfully when she realized she'd used her gown, and then snatched it up and over her head, dampness and all, and thrust a herb-flower into the bodice as impish ornament. Later, for the love of Mystra! It seemed everything had to wait for later, these days-

***

Anger, little mage? Now? Rage is in you like flame, stronger than when first i smote you and bound you! Why?

Later devil. I'll tell thee later.

No, caitive, you'll tell me now!

[pain]

[scream, trailing away to sobbing, images awhirl]

Don't you collapse on me, puny human! I know you're stronger than that! Feigning and cringing are for devils i trample-from you, let there be instant obedience! Instant and absolute! Do you hear?

***

Khelben lifted his head sharply. 'Did you hear something? A roaring, as of distant command?'

'Command, my Arunsun?' Laeral purred in his ear, almost playfully. 'No, but I tell you true: Jerk your head like that again while my shears are so close, and it's not hair I'll be cutting, but your ear!'

With a frown of irritation Khelben flicked two fingers, and the glittering shears sprang upright. Laeral frowned at them, quivering in her hand, and then at her lord consort.

'Shall I finish this later?' she asked dryly. 'The Lord Mage of Waterdeep is content to go out into the city shorn one side and not the other?'

'The Lord Mage of Waterdeep,' Khelben said slowly, staring at nothing, 'is troubled and knows not why. Put those away, love, and quell all castings, and feel. Just-feel. Something is amiss.'

The shears clinked upon a table, and the glowing globes of light drifting all around them winked out, fading to nothingness as they sank toward the floor. In the sudden darkness Khelben could see Laeral standing like a statue, her eyes glistening, as they both reached out with their minds, seeking whatever it was that had brushed Khelben's thoughts so fleetingly… faintly….

And then the door burst open, and an excited apprentice stood staring at them, framed against the light flooding in from the passage behind her.

'Lord and Lady Mage,' she burst out, 'I cry pardon! Ah, were you-?'

'Cutting hair?' Laeral asked calmly, as globes of light burst into being all over the room once more. 'Yes.' Her smile was only slightly wry as she asked, 'So, Kareece: What news shakes all the Realms and requires our immediate action now?'

***

I hear, devil. By Atystra, how I hear.

Call. Not to her, eiminster! I know your game, now. You must have speels ready and seek to awaken them by recalling their triggers. Try all you like-you'll fall, believe me-but remember this: my patience is not endless.

[mental lash; pain]

Yes, recall away, little man!

Longer, my memories must be longer-but each I call on is spent forever….

Aye, yielded to me and lost to you forever! Not so mighty are we now, hey?