Elminster in Hell

the Hall to the human hand jutting so improbably out of the smooth marble. 'This, for example, is Elminster's work.'

'What!'' the Royal Magician snarled. 'You're sure?'

Khelben strolled over to a certain spot on the floor and murmured a word. The air glowed for a moment, he raised his hand into the glow, and when the radiance faded, the Lord Mage of Waterdeep was holding a large, ornate decanter.

'Unmistakable. I've seen this spell before. Someone sprang one of his traps-probably cast on a spot where he meets with the Simbul.'

'So, that's a Red Wizard.' Vangerdahast mused. 'Or… was.'

Khelben nodded, sipping from the decanter without bothering with a flagon.

Vangerdahast looked at the decanter rather unhappily. How many more hidden surprises did the hall's web of spells hold? He asked rather hesitantly, 'And to get rid of it?'

Khelben licked his lips and raised the decanter again. 'I'm sure you know how to call on him,' he replied. 'Even if you don't want to.'

Vangerdahast winced, as if something painful had struck him. Stepping reluctantly out through the entrance that the doors no longer guarded, he lifted one hand and murmured something.

Khelben watched, not quite smiling.

Abruptly a ring of light glowed on the floor tiles. A moment later, someone stood in its center.

She was tall and slender-some would almost have said bony, for her ribs showed clearly as she spun around. Unruly silver hair writhed about her like a nest of roused snakes. She faced her summoner. Vangerdahast swallowed.

The angry eyes of the Simbul, Witch-Queen of Aglarond, were barely three paces from his. She wore nothing and did not look amused.

'Vangerda-' she began, her voice dangerously low and soft. Blue motes of magical fire gathered above her left palm, and she turned to look into the hall.

Her face changed. She crowed in delight and raced across the floor on silent bare feet to where the hand reached up from the floor.

Bending over to peer at it-both men stared a moment, looked away, cleared their throats, and turned again to regard her-the sorceress clapped her hands and hissed happily, 'Adrelgus, yes! Foolish enough to try to slay me!'

She spun around to regard the two wizards, planted her hands on her hips, and bubbled, 'This is what El meant by my 'little present, reaching for me'!'

She clapped her hands, muttered something. The hand was abruptly gone, the marble floor as smooth and unbroken as if it had never been there.

The Simbul gave them a cheery wave, tossed her hair in a defiantly alluring pose, and snapped her fingers- whereupon she vanished too.

Inevitably, the two men stared in unison at where she'd stood, cleared their throats, and slowly turned to look at each other.

'If you're ever captured,' Khelben said in a very dry voice, 'try not to let it be by a woman… or at least, not that one.'

Vangerdahast glanced involuntarily back to the floor where the hand had been. It bore no trace at all of ever having held a Red Wizard.

'How many palaces, vaults, and castles across Faerun, which their owners think are secure,' he asked, looking sick, 'can be breached so readily?'

Khelben smiled with only a corner of his mouth. 'Oh,' he said quietly, 'you'd be surprised.'

No, no! [ripple of rage] not mages you taught or now take to bed! Early days, i said!

Bah! If mystra didn't breed you or create you, she choose you. Take me back, beyond youk birth, into whatever memories she gave you of your choosing… And let's see why.

stupid wizard.

***

The Royal Magician of Cormyr looked up into Queen Filfaeril's eyes and found them just as sparkling with anger as he'd expected. Thank you, O watching gods.

'You were right to send for me, Highness,' he said gravely.

The queen nodded, face frozen, and began pointing-at the door guards, her ladies-in-waiting, the two war wizards behind Vangerdahast, and finally, the door.

'R-royal Lady?' one of the guards dared to ask, earning himself a regal scowl and an imperious gesture toward the door. That was enough to start the hasty, wordless migration.

Vangerdahast stood motionless, facing the queen, until the stream of swift, quiet bodies was gone, and they were alone.

'Lady?' he asked, not bothering to hide his sigh.

'Vangy,' the queen said with an exasperated sigh of her own,' call me Faeril or Fee or even 'stupid bitch,’ but stop looking at me as if I've singlehandedly doomed the realm! What could you have been doing that can possibly be more important than uncovering another plot against the throne?'

'Lady,' he said, stepping forward to clasp her hand, 'I know not. I was on my way here, in answer to your call, when I–I remembered something.'

The queen let her incredulous eyebrow speak for her.

Vangerdahast gave her a sour smile and added, 'I'm not quite in my dotage yet, Faeril. It was a rather important memory-of the Blackstaff and the queen of Aglarond, here in these halls-and I can't think why it came back to me. So sudden and so vivid-all of it playing out in front of me as if I were living it.'

The queen's eyes narrowed. 'Khelben and the Simbul here? When was this, exactly?'

Vangerdahast sighed. 'Lady,' he said, 'it's no part of present treacheries. I'll explain later, when you've unfolded whatever this latest plot is. Would it be Lady Kesse-mer's, by any chance?'

Filfaeril stared at him. 'How did you know?'

The Royal Magician coughed. 'Lady,' lie reminded her mildly,'I am a wizard.'

That royal sparkle of anger was back, in full force. 'You knew, and you didn't tell me?'

Vangerdahast took great care neither to sigh nor to roll his eyes. 'Lady,' he began carefully….

'Ssso, Queen of Aglarond, at lassst you stray within my reach! One little missstake, but I fear 'tisss your lassst!'

The gloating devil's great bat wings struck her tumbling from the sky. She fell hard onto rocks. The cruel talons of dozens of laughing fiends held her captive and raked her mercilessly before she could rise, laying her bare-just in time for the great beast's whip to come down.

Mystra! What fire! Screaming and sobbing in the grasp of the fiend's minions, the Simbul could not even convulse under the lashing pain. Claws caught at her hair and her throat, dragging her head back, bending her over backward. Her blood-drenched front, laid open by the lash, turned toward a sky that matched its bleeding hue.

'Sssoo, what does a god-touched human taste like, I wonder,' the great fiend purred, stretching down an impossibly long black arm.

Spread-eagled and helpless, the Simbul could only moan as that great taloned hand closed on her breast and tightened cruelly. Nails dug into her. The fiend's flesh was hot. She could smell her skin sizzling as it burned, the stink choking her even more than the fresh pain. Somehow she managed to scream, 'No! No! Nooooo!”

Her cry sent crystals and gems humming and singing all around her in the darkness. Gasping, Alassra Silverhand stared up at her own bedchamber ceiling.